The Greatest Sports Moment Ever

I am admittedly a sports fanatic. True, I tend to lean towards the sports geared towards my world—swim, bike, and run. But I can’t help but love a good sporting event. Who can ever forget during the 1999 World Cup Final when Brandi Chastain ripped off her shirt after scoring the winning goal against China? And even more what impact that had on women’s soccer and women’s athletics in general after that moment? Or how about when the very amateur United States hockey team defeated the heavily favorite Soviet Union to claim the gold in the 1980 Olympics? Sports have the ability to move us, inspire us, to change us, to take hold and make us realize that anything is possible. They give us hope, not just in sports but to what we can apply to everyday life. I grew up idolizing Jesse Owens, Wilma Rudolph, and Babe Didrikson. I was convinced that my parents named me after Jesse Owens. I would run to and from Condit Elementary, hurdling over bushes pretending I was Babe as a child getting ready for the Olympics. I was drawn to them not because of what they did in sports, but of the obstacles they overcame to excel. Sometimes I wonder if I was just a really weird kid. While everyone seemed to be in love with Corey Haim, I was researching my latest sports hero.

When I swim my mind wonders. Well, when I’m not killing myself in my main set where all I’m focused on is making the interval, my mind wonders. The other day I was thinking about what was the greatest sports moment I ever witnessed. I thought about all the Olympic swimming events…seeing Michael Phelps win despite his goggles filling up with water. Or in middle school when our 4 x 400 ended up coming from behind and winning the big grand finale City Meet. Or watching Macca win his Ironman World Championship against Andres Raelert. There are so many I can’t even begin to list them. And then I thought about how I would define what the greatest moment was. Was it the biggest in impact on triathlon? Or was it in sports or better yet society in general? My mind kept wondering back to this one moment, this one moment back in 2003. You see, this sports moment was not witnessed by many. In fact, I don’t think many saw it at all. But yet in all of my years of fanatic sports watching this one moment just keeps coming back to me. And every time I think of it--it moves me. My goggles fill up with tears and I just can’t get it out of my head…and I swim harder and banish any negative thoughts in my mind. It was the greatest sports moment I ever witnessed, and I might be one of a few people that even witnessed it.

In 2003 I was a First Lieutenant stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. The war in Iraq had just kicked off, and I knew it was just a matter of time before my unit would be called to reinforce. I wanted to make my triathlon count, because I didn’t know the next time it would…if ever. Back then there were no 70.3s. You either did Olympic Distance or Ironman. Having a heavy work schedule I chose the Olympic route. Back then the big races were Age Group Nationals, Age Group Worlds, and a few long standing races that had been around for years. One in particular was St. Anthony’s Triathlon in St. Petersburg, Florida. This race was and still is held in April, and at the time it was also a stop For the Elite World Cup race. What I am getting at is that this race was kind of a big deal at the time. It was an early tester of who is fit and who to look out for throughout the year. I did the race every year since 2001, and with deployment just around the corner I knew I wanted to nail it in 2003 because I didn’t know when I would be back. The race included an “Elite Amateur” wave. This meant that no matter your age, you could race in the first wave so that it was a true race for the top amateur. I thought we were going to be the first wave but that morning I realized that they would send off the disabled athletes first. I remember thinking something along the lines of, “I hope I don’t run over them in the swim,” and really that’s about as much thought that went into it. As I was doing my pre-race warm-up and rituals, I began to head down to the start line, a beach start in which we would run into the water. I saw a girl, around my age (24 at the time), also heading to the start. She was preparing to start right before me in the disabled wave. As she walked, her body almost seemed to resemble a “Z” shape. Her shoulders pointed one way, her hips another, and her legs buckled underneath her. She used no crutches or stabilizer and I remember thinking, “Oh, she must have cerebral palsy,” and again that was about it. Yes, I was pretty much focused on my race and my race alone.

My race took off and I had a great swim and came out of the water a few places back on the lead. Once on the bike I put the hammer down and took over the lead. This was quite exhilarating and equally scary. I was leading St. Anthony’s Triathlon, a race of over 3000 participants. I was winning, what was I doing, is this really happening…yaddy yaddy yaddy. I got to Transition 2 and my Dad yelled something and I think we were all in a mixture of shock and excitement. I took off running…and I was passed in the last few miles and ended up 2nd at this prestigious event. I was happy, but also disappointed because I realized the reason I didn’t win is because I didn’t believe that I could or should win. We went back to the hotel and I showered. I was able to retrieve my bike, break it down and pack it for the flight later that evening. I went back to the race site and visited with fellow competitors. I remember they had a good spread of food and we at lunch and just sat around waiting for the awards ceremony. I sat there, kind of feeling sorry for myself that the victory was just within my reach and I just gave it up. I went through “the pass” over and over in my head. Behind me volunteers began to strip down the race site and the bleachers for the thousands of spectators that come to watch. It was pretty much dead compared to the early hustle and bustle as awards were done and people were just sitting around.

Suddenly a movement caught my eye. At first I thought it was someone running across the course. Then I realized that it was actually someone still on the course, moving very slowly and what seemed to be a very disjointed running gait. And then it hit me—it was the girl I saw at the race start literally hours before, the girl from the first wave. Her knees buckled together and to the right side of her body, while her hips clearly pointed the other way. I remember thinking, “How can this girl even run?” it seemed so off center and painful. I don’t know why but she just drew me in. I stood up and rushed to the finish shoot, which was nearly all the way torn down at this point. I could see her coming towards the finish. Her body askew, but she was still moving, with a confidence on her face that looked like “yeah, I got this” even if it is slower than everyone else there. Something came over me and I just started cheering, and loudly, going crazy for this girl as she made her way to the finish. A few other people took notice, mainly because of my loud commotion, and stopped and clapped and cheered. Her face, there was something about her face…fierce determination, a spirit that I cannot capture in words. It was the face of someone unwilling to quit, of someone unwilling to take pity, of someone that believed in herself despite many people probably not believing in her. At that moment I witnessed the heart and courage of a lion. At that moment I witnessed the greatest sporting moment. Life has a way of throwing you curve balls. Sometimes I can be guilty of feeling sorry for myself. And then I think about Jesse Owens and Wilma Rudolph…or the girl at the St. Anthony’s triathlon in 2003. They didn’t make excuses for themselves and neither will I. I have an unrelenting will to make this life count. And while triathlon is such a big part of my life, it’s more than the actual competitions that mold me into who I want to be. Yes, it truly is the journey not the destination. Sports teach us to not make excuses, have faith and courage, and to never ever give up. And where that lands us who really cares, just as long as we believe in ourselves to make the first step.

Ironman Arizona!!

A week has passed from Ironman Arizona and while I would like to say I've been very busy thus delaying my race report, the truth is I just haven't seemed to find the motivation to write about my experience. First off, I'm not disappointed in my race. I am so green to this distance and I learned so much, and I truly believe information is power. With that said, I am not remotely satisfied or content with my performance. I can do better and I will do better. I've been around this sport long enough to realize it takes time and patience and most of all consistency. Unfortunately I lacked all 3 of these disciplines this year. At the end of 2012 I developed severe knee pain, which ended up being a wicked case of IT Band syndrome. I began running very lightly at Team RWB camp in April, and rolled into Rev3 Knoxville concerned if I could complete a 10k. Once I was finally up and running healthy, it's been a race against the clock to get the training in necessary to be competitive at these races. By looking at my results this year, I fell a bit short sided in this regard. I guess this is why I'm not terribly disappointed with my result in Arizona, or Austin or Branson or Williamsburg for that matter. As my Dad says, "You pulled this season out of your ear." And I know better than anyone to be grateful just to be out there--even if it's a little longer than I'm used to or I would like :)

With that said I rolled into Arizona completely healthy and ready to race. In my mind I wanted to go faster than my Cedar Point time and hit the low 9s. I was quite naive in this regard. Let me explain...Cedar Point, dare I say, felt easy. I swam and rode by myself and proceeded to get off the bike and run my first marathon in a 3:08, and I felt amazing the whole day doing it. Wow, little did I know this is definitely not the norm! Also, it completely reinforces how important consistency is! While I didn't have any workouts that were just killer before Cedar Point, I had so much hay in the barn that even I didn't realize it...until that hay was gone and I spent the last 5 months trying to jam this hay back in!

Race morning went off without a hitch. I wasn't overly nervous, but more dreading the unknown. I hugged my pit crew goodbye and made my way to the start shoot, all before the sun was up. We jumped in the water and I ended up next to Amanda Stevens. I knew I'd have clean water next to me because she would drop me within 10 meters! And I thought since she is an Okie it would be good luck. The canon went off and we took off, I actually had an amazing start and could see three girls to my left swimming my speed. I merged with them and swam on their feet, and realized that the pace was actually a bit hard. I lost them for a bit but kept focused on my pace and a few minute later one came back to me. The problem was that we both had been popped off and completely spent. At the turn around I realized we were pulling a long train of girls. At this point I let off the gas and forced some others to come to the front. Of course this picked up the pace and a few more gals pushed to the front. In the end this can only help everyone--if we share the load. Sadly, I don't think the other 8+ girls share the same sentiments as me! Oh well, such is life.

I had a great transition and came out around 7th. Then something strange happen. You see, I consider myself a bike/run specialist. Usually once out of the water I don't "drop" down. Hmmm, not true here. While my Garmin somehow stopped working, I felt in control the first loop and tried to just go on perceived exertion. I passed a few girls and a few passed me. Then on the second loop on the "climb" to the turn around, I began to get passed by what felt like handfuls of pro women (including several I passed the first loop), and unfortunately stuck to the wheels of the faster age group men. I was so frustrated! I would back off and stay out of the zone, but then forced to pass them all back in a huge burst of power. Looking back, this was my pitfall. These spikes in my effort just weren't smart. They zapped my energy and zapped my legs. I finally just lost them all, probably because I wasn't glued to their wheel, and I just saw the distance grow each turn around.

I was absolutely thrilled to get off my bike. I knew I biked low 5hours. I also knew I was way down in place despite a solid ride. I started running and could see the damage from the bike was not good. I was looking at some insurmountable deficits. To top it off, while at Cedar Point I had to really hold back at 7min miles the first half of the marathon, in Arizona I struggled from mile 1 just to hold 8 minutes. I really thought there was absolutely no way I would finish. The last time I felt this terrible running was my very first half ironman when the twins were 18 months and my longest run was 75 min pushing a baby jogger!

So, this is where I was. Not competitive, dishearten, and feeling like my legs were glued to the sideway. I felt like I was disappointing my coach, my family, my friends...my kids. Then I thought what would be more disappointing...finishing in a mediocre place or not finishing at all because essentially my ego is bruised. At that point I had a little talk with myself and it went something like this, “Get over yourself. Put one foot in front of the other, smile and join with the other thousand participants in what is the spirit of Ironman.” It's not always about winning or a best time or finishing in the money. Sometimes it's the satisfaction of completing something you thought was impossible. That's how my marathon went. Get to the finish line and exalt in that. Each mile hurt. I got to the finish and some poor guy was leaning over sideways and falling over himself. The crowd was going crazy because for a few moments it looked like he would be in jeopardy of finishing. And I had the best seat in the house witnessing this feat of will. I passed him with about 10 meters to go, pausing for a second to see if he needed help. He was back on his feet, smiling realizing he was going to make it. I patted him on the back and went on through, and my immediate thoughts were not "Oh my goodness I did it!!" but rather "Oh no!! I hoped when I patted him I didn't knock him down!!" I looked back and he made it, and finally I allowed the emotions to settle that I had made-in what was the hardest physical event I ever endeavored in my 35 years. This has been a long and difficult year. While I think I have a pretty good amount of humility and humbleness, apparently I need some more! That’s fine with me because I truly believe in the end it makes you a better athlete and most of all a better person. I know my readers and friends probably get tired of me quoting this, but it is so fitting for this year. Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. Winston Churchill And lastly it’s all about perspective… A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty. Winston Churchill

I have a long list of sponsors, family, and friends to thank. In the spirit of Thanksgiving I have to warn you, this will be long… I want to especially thank my parents and my coach, Kevin Purcell. They continue to mentor me through good and bad times, giving me far more than just sports. I am beyond lucky to have the support of the Tulsa community. This year would not be possible without Paula Marshall and Bama Companies. She is an amazing woman and has kept my dream of racing professionally alive. Also PowerPlay, also here in Tulsa, for support on and off the course. Kathy Hoover at Runner’s World Tulsa, I can’t thank you enough for getting and keeping me in the right shoes. Jim Richardson, my massage guru, for keeping my legs happy. Ryan Gabriel, my mechanic and friend, has spent countless hours on my bike, which is pretty disgusting most of the time! Robert Peace, Chuck Zoellner and Bill Clark spent their precious time giving me their medical wisdom to get me up and running again. Michelle Johnson, the trainer that kicks my butt weekly and has me cursing her in pain. First Endurance, Rudy Project, Race Quest Travel and Louis Garneau have the best products out there, thank you! Charlie and Rev3 for helping me get to Rev3 races this year. You guys are like family! Team RWB—I was proud to race in their kit. I can’t believe how this organization has grown! You’ve given me something bigger than myself to race for! Thank you! My training partners are more than that, I’m lucky to call them friends, especially Suzie and Kim. George V. at Jenks Aquatics continues to crack the whip on my swim. Denise, thank you for taking the trip to Arizona and helping with sherpa duties. My friends who have absolutely nothing to do with triathlon-thank you for giving me balance and continuing to help me out with the kids when I’m off to race! And despite no longer being married, I could not do this without Lucas. We both have difficult schedules and it wouldn’t be possible to train without his help and support. My family for always making me feel loved and supported. To the kiddos, Rowan, Gwyn and Jaxon, for always keeping me grounded and keeping it real. Lastly…to Ray for giving me a new outlook on life, dealing with me when I’m a complete pain stressing about training and racing and being my confidant about ALL things—you are amazing!

What A Pro Looks Like

When I first turned professional in triathlon in 2006, I had been accepted to the National Resident Team at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. I was also still in the Army, but as a new member of a small unit called the World Class Athlete Program (WCAP), which was for soldiers who had Olympic potential. Prior to my admittance in these programs, I was a “full time” soldier stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. I held positions as Platoon Leader, Company Executive Officer, and Battalion Assistant S-3 (Operations). This included a 14 month deployment to Baghdad, Iraq from Jan 2004 to Feb 2005. From the time I graduated West Point in 2000, to when I actually turned pro; I had qualified for my pro card every year in-between. But I always held back from taking the leap because in my mind that wasn’t what a pro looked like—having a real job living in the middle of nowhere, Texas. My Army time didn’t afford a lot extra time to train, and most of my jobs required me to be on my feet long hours, often in the heat. But when you get right down to it, all of these reasons for not going pro are excuses. The truth is the real reason I never took the plunge was I was afraid to. Professional triathletes weren’t Army Officers working long hours at Fort Hood, Texas. They lived in Colorado Springs or Boulder or San Diego and had the best facilities at their fingertips and oodles of time at their disposal. How was I going to compete with that?

So it seemed like destiny when I was finally in Colorado Springs. This was the life as a pro triathlete I had always dreamed about. There were very little distractions there. Food was prepared every meal at the training center cafeteria. I was surrounded by Olympians, often in a zombie-like state from the intense training at 6000 feet, and the best facilities in the world. While I was still in the Army, my official job for the Army was to train. It was surreal. And also…mundane.

Towards the end of 2006 I discovered I was pregnant, with twins. Needless to say this was a shocker. With a lot of thought we decided to exit the Army and raise the twins as civilians. This also meant giving up our spots at the Training Center and WCAP. I wasn’t sure if I would race professionally again. My number one priority was raising the twins, but again in the back of my mind I thought pro triathletes weren’t moms, and certainly not to twins. Also, we found out we were moving to Tulsa, OK. What pro lives and trains in Tulsa? Again, it went against everything I thought a pro should look like. How would I ever make it? How could I compete since I know what the “real pros” do? Further, it didn’t help that I definitely had some naysayers when I learned about pregnancy. The hard truth is these programs let me go when I realized I was pregnant. And I took this to heart. I could never be any good because they didn’t believe in me enough to keep me around. It was a huge blow to my confidence and I struggled with it for years. Luckily I also had my supporters, my biggest being my family. And sometimes this came in the form of tough love. I remembered back when I was in Iraq and complaining about how terrible it was, and how if I made it back I’d be too out of shape to ever be a pro, my brother Jeremy wrote me something that slapped me in the face and I have carried ever since. He said, “Jessica, it’s too early to throw a pity party.” He was right. And he still is. Yes, I don’t have 6000 feet of altitude, or the world’s best facilities, or someone cooking me every meal, or the latest USA gear. But you know what I do have? Hard work, resilience, humility, tenacity and good old fashioned hard headedness. Yes, in 2007 I was 30lbs heavier, had little sleep and was pretty much in the worst shape I had ever been in in my life. But I had the biggest tool any athlete has in their arsenal of weapons, belief in myself. No pity party here!

This past week I just returned from Kona to watch the Ironman World Champs. I have come so far since 2007. I would have been intimidated by the other pro women, or more so by their situation versus mine. Perhaps with my age comes a little (oh so little) wisdom. It doesn’t matter where you are, it matters who you are. That’s what a pro looks like. The ability to take a good or bad situation and to grow. Today I believe I have the best training partners in the world…for me. And I believe I have the best roads to ride on…for me. I probably measure success completely differently than most pros. I have been injured this year, and I returned to a 4th place finish in a tough field last month in Rev3 (half iron distance) Branson. I’ve won on this course. And I believe I can again one day. But the best part of that trip was having my son, who is struggling with reading, make a huge breakthrough in his progression. My life as a pro does look completely different than what I thought it would. But what I have found is this is what works…for me! At whatever level you are in triathlon, or any sport for that matter, don’t put yourself in a box. Seek other opportunities when it feels like doors have been shut in your face. The fact is with the right attitude and a little faith, you’ll land right where you are supposed to be.

Jones, You Look Like Butt.

In an effort to keep this blog more interesting and to keep a record of some of my past experiences, I've decided to share some of my stories. After all, it’s not all swim, bike, run in life, right? Growing up my family, mainly my mother, coined me "Sensational Jessica." However, I've come to realize some of this stuff you just can't make up and need little embellishment. This is the good, the bad, and the often ugly of Jessica. I don't know why, but this story came to mind this morning.... "Jones, you look like butt." 1996, first semester plebe year. I made it through Beast Barracks, the West Point equivalent of basic training. Back then (wow, that makes me feel old, I'm an "old grad" reminiscing about how tough the Corps used to be) the women still cut their hair to two inches above the collar. We were not allowed to use any sort of hair ties or clips, nor could we "make an adjustment" without the permission of an upperclassman. In other words, if your hair got in your face, which it inevitably did, you couldn't just use your hand to brush it behind your ear. We also still wore our socks up to our knees, and of course our shirts tucked in tightly, also called a dress off, into our shorts or pants. West Point is located about an hour from New York City and none of the barracks had air conditioning. As you can imagine, it got pretty warm, especially with the bodies constantly hustling and bustling about. Later as an upperclassman I would realize just how badly plebes smelt. They are constantly sweaty, and I swear the sweat coupled with their anxiety and general unhappiness produced the worst musk known to man. Any cadet knows what I'm talking about--probably it’s at its worst after the march back from Lake Frederick. However, that day is truly deserving of its own post. Back to the story at hand....so I'm 18 years old. I'm of similar height and weight as I am now, despite most claiming how much weight you would lose during Beast. I'd been assigned to company I-1, The Fighting Irish, with the motto, "Get Lucky!!!" During beast I had lived on the 5th floor of Eisenhower Barracks. There are 6 floors total, and I pitied the new cadets that lived on the top floor. It was bad enough constantly racing up & down 5 flights, not only because of the physical demand, but also because of the chances of encountering more upperclassmen. The faster you could get to your room and out of the critical eye of these disapproving upperclassmen the better. Imagine my surprise when I was assigned to my new academic company that I would move up to the 6th floor for the next two years. Great. How about them odds? I, along with every plebe or cadet for that matter, had a rigorous academic schedule. One of the many things that make West Point tough is that there is just not enough time in the day. Time management is essential. This semester I had classes most of the morning, formation and lunch with the rest of the Corps, a class after lunch. I would rush back from my last class, change into my cross country uniform, and rush to Arvin Gym for practice. Being late was simply not an option. There was no, "Sorry, I was a little behind." There is strict accountability and tardiness was met with demerits, walking hours on the area, and enough of these could mean expulsion. Bottom-line, you just don't show up late. So I've been trying to set the stage for this particular day. The month was August and it was still quite warm. I finished my last class of the day and I was racing back to my room to change for practice. Our first football game of the year was against Miami of Ohio. We would greet upperclassmen not in our company with, "Beat Miami of Ohio, Sir!!" or "Beast Miami of Ohio, Ma'am!!" Yeah, trying saying that a few times! I raced up the 6 flight of stairs. I'm sweaty and frazzled, my hair is in my face, and I have to pee like a race horse. I dropped my books in my room and took off pinging down the hallway (pinging is how plebes walk, imagine a race walker but with elbows locked out--pretty much like an idiot) to the "latrine." Ahhh yes, on the toilet now, upperclass can't get me here. I use this opportunity to push my hair behind my ears and wipe the sweat from my brow. I finish my business and go to tuck my shirt back in, making sure I dress it off correctly--which means a straight line with my buttons and belt, flat in the front and folded back. Here's the thing about West Point--you adapt quickly. You learn to move quickly and think on your feet while in constant chaos. It seems so ridiculous at the time, but you learn attention to detail and how to rise above stress. And if you don't learn to do this, along with many other rigors, then you don't make it. It's that simple. I think quickly if I have done everything to make it the 50 feet back to my room without being hazed. I have. I take off down the hallway and see one upperclassman. Cadet Rodriguez. Ugh. He's a cow, or a junior, and probably the meanest in the company. And I really get the feeling he doesn't like me much. But no worries, I'm squared away. I'll greet him with and a loud and thunderous, "Go Fighting Irish!!" and we will both go about our merry ways. I do just that and make it 4 steps past him just short of my room when I hear, "Cadet Jones, halt!!!" Crap. Crap!!! What did I do? I keep going over in my head and I know I'm squared away. I quickly about face, and he's walking towards me with a look of general disgust on his face. Maybe he's going to quiz me on knowledge. Boy I hope he doesn't ask me “The Days”...maybe it will be to recite the newspaper. Or it could be tomorrow’s lunch. Plebes must know the next three meals on board at all times. Just go with pizza pockets and congo bar, Jess. Or perhaps he will ask Schofield's Definition of Discipline. Oh, I hope it's that. I'm actually good at that one. He gets closer, his lipped curled up as if my general presence was offensive. "Jones, what is that in your pocket." My mind starts racing. We only have back pockets. I wasn't sure if I sat on something, rendering my uniform anything less than impeccable, thus unacceptable. I stuck to one of my four responses, "Sir, I do not understand." Rodriquez moves closer, now we are face to face, probably 6 inches separating his nose from mine while I stand at attention. "No really, Jones. What the hell is in your pocket?!" So I tell him the truth. "Sir, I do not know." Rodriguez is officially annoyed, "So use your hand and feel!!!" Keep in mind, he has to give me permission to move out of attention. I reach back and realize it's a pen. As I pinged (or is it pung?) from the bathroom it must have shimmied out of my pocket and about a half inch of the white top peeked out, of course at the precise moment I would encounter the meanest upperclassman in my company. "Sir, it is a pen." "Well, Jones, then fix it!!!" "Yes, sir." He moves in closer, head cocked and lip snarled even further. He raises his eyebrow and he looks even more disgusted with me. He's about an inch from my face and I'm bracing myself for him to lay into me. He opens his mouth and I'm surprised by flat and calm tone, as if he's letting me in on a secret that the entire Corps knows and he’s annoyed that he has to take the 3 seconds of his precious to let me in on the punch line. "Jones, you look like butt. Now get out of here." That's it? He's not going to yell at me for awhile? Or rip me a new one? Or ask how I even got into this place? Or how I’ll never make it? Or that I better get my “sh!t” together? Or that’ll he be waiting for me after practice so get ready? "Yes, sir!" I quickly acknowledge him. I about face and move out as fast as I can to my room. I get inside and can't help but smile. My hair is everywhere. I'm pimply. I'm sweaty. Yep, I look like butt. That would have hurt my feelings a few months ago. Now I'll go on to tell my teammates and we will laugh about it all afternoon. I still look in the mirror in the morning and when I look rough, like this morning and smile. "Jones, you look like butt." Thank you, Cadet Rodriquez.

Did That Really Just Happen?? Rev3 Cedar Point

My apologizes for a tardy race report. I had heard that the soreness after your first 140.6 can be pretty rough so I assumed it was just something I had to suffer through. It wasn't until I sat at the Dr.'s office with Gwyn on Wednesday that I realized I was feeling especially bad, which I explained felt like getting hit by a truck. It finally dawned on me that maybe this wasn't post-race soreness, but something else. Sure enough, I picked up a nasty case of strep throat on the journey back to Tulsa!! Well, at least I have good timing? In any event, I wouldn't have done my race report justice as I was barely forming complete sentences. So here I sit before the kids wake to bring you up to date. Apologizes again as this could be a long one!

Thank you Eric Wynn for the beautiful photo! Two weeks before Cedar Point, I raced the Rev3 Maine Olympic. No, you didn't see a race report. I wrote one, but made the decision not to post it. And no, the report wasn't ranting about my penalty--incidentally, the head referee Charlie sought me out at Cedar Point and personally apologized. Wow! Seriously, I was so touched! Just a brief explanation; at Maine we started behind age groupers. As we were biking away, I was just behind Nicole and we were passing age groupers. I staggered off of Nicole, which forced me to ride to the left of the lane. I got pulled over by the official, my penalty being "riding in the middle of the road." I tried to explain to him that I'm a pro; if I wasn't riding there I would be in violation of Pro rules. No dice. The guy just didn't get it. And to make matters worse I didn't realize you have to have both feet on the ground. I stood there well beyond the actual time to serve, and my mental state was completely deflated. I was able to run back to 5th, but in the end I needed those valuable points for the series and I have a suspicion this penalty has the potential to bite me in the ass all the way to the very end. So I decided not to post my report not because of the penalty. Maine seemed to be the culmination of the highs and lows, leaving me completely emotionally spent. We've all heard, "God doesn't give you anything you can't handle." Which my response is, "I wish He didn't trust me so much." In all seriousness, I will give you an excerpt from my Maine report:

My best friend Jenn keeping my spirits up all weekend. Those closest to me know I've been having a tough year. There are days when Coach Kevin and I have completely hit the reset button. We even discussed that the entire year might be a reset button. Something deep inside me keeps me going. Call it hard headiness, stupidity...or maybe gumption or resilience. I don't know. I've made it no secret that triathlon saved me from going down a very dark road. After returning from Iraq I struggled. But each morning I had something waiting for me, something to think about, something to give me hope. Perhaps this year I continue with triathlon because I have to prove to myself that I'm still strong, I'm still here, I'm still fighting.

Getting ready for lobster post Maine with Jenn and Courtenay. So once the Maine dust settled, I spoke with Kevin on Friday. We were talking about the points, the season, my fitness. My original race schedule had Cedar Point as my first full distance. But we got to July, life was crazy, and realized it was too much to ask out of my life. I said to Kevin something along the lines that I wish I had a little more faith in myself back in July because I was so close to being able to do a race this long. My swims and bikes were training as if I was doing a full. What wasn't prepared was my run--my longest being 90 minutes. So the more we talked about it, checked out the start list, went over the points for the series and what doing this race would mean strategically, the more excited we both got. Finally, 8 days out before Cedar Point, I called Charlie to tell him I was in! The following days were spent getting ready. It was actually pretty easy as I had barely unpacked from Maine. I made the decision to fly in on Friday, which Kevin was a little nervous about since it was pretty late for a race this distance. But the reality is I wanted to be home with the kiddos and cause as little disruption to their life as possible. I did my interviews right when I got there, looking nice and greasy for the cameras! They asked me several times about winning. I told them my goal was to move up in the series. And really I was more interested in making that marathon, a distance I've never covered either!

Pro Panel with Erin Spitler, a real sweetheart! Saturday the weather was crazy and it threw a little wrench in my usual pre-race swim, bike, run. But I was amazingly calm, trying not to expend any more energy worrying. I hit up the pre-race meeting and pro panel. I was back to my room and resting by 1:30. I went to bed at 9, only to wake up at 10 in a complete panic! Was I really about to do this tomorrow? What did I get myself into? What was I thinking? Why did I think this was a good idea? I'm not prepared for this!! People train the whole year!!! Ahh man, this is not good. I got up, banished the thoughts, got some Melatonin and went back to bed. I slept like a baby until 3:45 when it was time to get up and eat. I remained calm, watching Friends and drinking coffee, until it was time to get down to transition. Right before I left I said, "Do I really have to do this?" I also knew the answer to it. Just go get it done. Smile while you're doing it. Think of Trevor, my little brother, in route to Afghanistan. This is nothing. This is fun...you get to do this!

Nice and early sporting some bed head. I set up my transition and before I knew it I was headed down to the swim start with the most beautiful sunrise. Before I knew it the horn was sending us off and I immediately fell in behind Carrie Lester. We were making good time, but things got confusing and with about 1000m to go somehow we got gapped. I just kept a hard tempo going not sure where she went, continuing to pass pro men until the end. Once out on the course I was waiting for Carrie to come by me, which would definitely help with visual on the bike. However, I got word about 30 miles in she was ahead of me. I'm still not quite sure what happen and looking at the results she ended up beating me out of the water by 2 minutes! What was I doing? I was swimming hard, I didn't die out there, was my sighting that terrible? Needless to say, I was a little aggravated, especially since now she was biking with Malaika and my steady gap now was opening up! Darn it!! The upswing, is it forced me to ride my race, my watts--which probably were much more conservative compared to the more seasoned Malaika and Carrie. And by looking at the time I knew I was close to Malaika’s winning split a year ago, so while my legs didn't feel especially spunky I knew I was still in this race. And thank goodness for my Quarq as I would have been in no-man's land that entire bike!

Photos thanks to Nils Nilsen. Finally made one of his shots! I arrived at T2 and took the time to lace up my shoes, the PI Streak 2, and took off. I heard that I was 8.5 minutes behind, which I thought wasn't too bad. We made the decision to wear a Garmin. Yep, I'm a believer now. I was given strict instruction to run at 7:45-7:50 pace the first 30 minutes. Our whole strategy was to get to the last 13.1 miles as fresh as possible. I followed the instructions and it felt like I was walking. I made sure my stomach was settled, which it was, and thought of it as a "warm up." At 4 miles in, I had word I was 12.5 minutes behind. I wasn't discouraged at all! Truth is, I felt great! And I knew to lose 4 minutes in 4 miles means they were taking it out hot and hopefully that would be to my benefit later on. The next miles I steadily increased the tempo. Half way through I got would I was roughly 8 minutes behind. I felt great and told myself, "this is where your race starts." From there I was making big gains and I just let my body do what it's been taught to do my entire life: run! There were several out and backs and I just smiled the whole time at my friends, at how lucky I was to be doing this, and that I can't believe I feel this good! Kevin, he really is a genius! I passed Malaika around mile 22 and started to wonder if I could get Carrie. At mile 23 I got word she was 3 minutes up, and I knew that would be a tall order. I think mentally at this point I put it in cruise control, soaked up the crowds, and really enjoyed the moment. Wow, did I really just do this? 2nd place, fastest run of the day, but more importantly I executed a smart race where I was in control the whole day, finishing in a time of 9:19:39! And most importantly, I got to share the moment with some very special people, near and far! Truly, there is no way I could do it without them!

Thank you Daniel Smith for snapping a pic! So here I sit, barely doing anything the entire week! Ha! We are trying to figure out the rest of the season. The sickness definitely is a hurdle, but I wouldn't change a thing. The whole experience was amazing, and I can't thank Rev3 enough for being my biggest supporter of this journey! I'm lucky enough to call their crew friends. And of course to my sponsors: Rev3, Recovery Pump, Powerbar, Pearl Izumi, John R. Jones, PC, Kestrel, Challenge Tires, Rudy Project, Blue Seventy, and to Team Red White and Blue...each make this dream possible, thank you! To Coach Kevin Purcell for believing in me, being patient and understanding, and always knowing what's best for me. My awesome family for always being on "Team Jessica" and never being embarrassed that their daughter, sister, mom is still an athlete :) To my amazing friends here in Tulsa that train with me through thick and thin. I couldn't do it without you--not just being the best training partners, but the best friends! Suzie, Kim, Ray and Duncan, thanks for sticking with me!! Your support means more than you know! Lastly, to Rowan and Gwyneth. You two always keep my grounded, keep me smiling, and force me to find my strong! I'm one lucky lady!!

Rev 3 Wisconsin

It's obscenely early as I sit and wait for my plane home Tulsa, so I figured I'd be productive and knock out my race report. This weekend I had the opportunity to race another Rev 3 event, this time in The Dells, Wisconsin. Without boring you with logistical nuancies of the race, let's just say that after my Quassy fiasco I was unusually anal about my travel arrangements. I arrived to the hotel around 8pm on Thursday after encountering only a few hick-ups.  I built my bike while I waited for my food to be delivered and tuned into some Olympics. Overall it was fairly uneventful, which is just great in my book!  The following morning I linked up with the Rev3 crew as I really wanted to meet everyone behind the scene. I have to tell you that it was quite humbling. I feel like that saying, "they work so hard" is an understatement. By the time their boots hit the ground, it's non stop to put on not just a race, but a weekend of events for athletes and family to enjoy. And what impressed the most is the interaction within the staff; they seem more like family. I can't say enough to sing their praise. If you haven't done a Rev3 race, you are missing out plain and simple! I linked up with The Mary Miller to check out the bike course. How many blondes does it take to read a map?? Ironically we both pride ourselves on being good at directions. Turns out two blondes don't make a right. Unless that's a right turn when you should be turning left! Once we figured out the course, I was pleased that this was going to be a hard, fair course.  There were two substancial climbs, with the rest being undulating hills. Also, the wind was going to pick up as the day went out, which was another element to factor in. The run course was also quite hilly, overall the course was deceptively difficult.  Afterwards I had a quick pre-race interview which got me thinking even more about my race strategy. When asked about predictions, I stated that it would be foolish of me to make any. The truth is we all train hard and you just don't know what each person is coming into the race with. Some might be in a build for an iron distance, others tapered and ready to go. Some might be recovering from injury...the point is you never know, so never count anyone out because anything can happen, especially on a course like this! Once I got back I chilled back in the room with my trusty Recovery Boots until dinner. I got to catch up with my teammate Richie and his wife Melissa. I've said it before and the same applies to Richie--it's great to see nice people do well. He didn't get to this point overnight and he is a great example of years of hard work paying off! Saturday morning I met up with my other teammate Malika for my usual swim/bike/run. I had a little bike drama with my wheel rubbing, which I was stressing about. However, I looked over at Malika who calmly told me she broke her seat clamp, and would have to borrow a bike to race on Sunday. Suddenly my bike drama didn't seem so dramatic! After the pro meeting it was back to chilling, a little dinner, then an early night to get ready for an early morning. Race morning finally arrived. The hotel was walking distance to transition, so I took my time to head over there. The weather was quite cool  and once I got my bike set up and warm up complete, I headed down to the swim start.  I got a little worried because I felt a little too calm. So times those nerves are good to get you going yet I seemed to have none! Once the race started I immediately felt strong and was in a good draft. However, they distinctly told us to keep the buoys on our left and this draft was heading down the center of the swim course. I sited a gal to my right who was keeping the buoys on the correct line, I jumped behind her but the realized the other gals were aiming towards the very last turn around buoy, and we were on a longer course. Turns out later I was following Malika, as we were both confused at the other line. I tried to hop back with the pack but now I was gapped. Doh!!! Dumb dumb!! I stayed strong and a couple times thought I could catch back up. No bueno! I felt great and strong and kicked myself for my tactical error, but focused on minimizing the gap I created. Once out I heard 1:52 down on the leader  wasn't too bad. Once I got to the bikes I focused on staying patient, trusting my training, and be confident that the girls would come back to me. I'll admit, a few times I started to worry.  But finally at mild 40 I saw a speck ahead, then another at 47, then finally Malika in the final few miles. Wow, I guess it worked because a few times I worried I was out of it and now I was headed into T2 in 2nd. I ran out with Malika and got an update that Nicole was 3 min up the road. What an outstanding ride she had! My run legs felt strong, not necessarily "fast", but good enough to hold on to 2nd. Overall I was pleased with my effort. This year I've walked away from each race with one (or two) discipline that was absolutely off. I felt strong the entire day and proved myself that the work eventually pays off. Once again I have to thank my incredible sponsors and supporters! Rev3, Recovery Pump, Powerbar, Pearl Izumi, John R. Jones, PC, Kestrel, Challenge Tires, Rudy Project, Blue Seventy, and to Team Red White and Blue! Coach Kevin for his always level head and encouragement. And to my family and friends for your constant love, help, and sometimes a swift kick to my arse!!

BSLT 70.3 2012!

Buffalo Springs looked like it was not going to make it on my schedule this year. I'm focusing mainly on Rev3 events with Portland coming up after Quassy. However, I have a family reunion the week of Portland in Knoxville and logistically getting to the race and back home to Tulsa looked to be a little tougher than I first anticipated. Plus, I would have to cut my family time short and it's not very often I get to see my siblings(been 2 years since I've seen 2 of my bros) and while I love racing, I stand firm with...family first! So a week after Quassy I got to do my first century ride of the year with Tulsa Tough. I talked it over with Kevin and threw out the idea of taking a short trip to Buffalo Springs instead a few weeks later. It would be perfect because it's logistically an easy trip, plus we had a few Tulsans making the trip. I decided to throw my hat in the ring, and suddenly our Tulsa roster grew and before we knew it we were loading up the bikes on Friday to make the nearly 8 hour drive to Lubbock. This trip was also in conjunction with "girl’s weekend" with Gywnnie. This would the first time she had ever spent any extended time apart from her twin brother. To say she loved all the attention is a bit of an understatement. I have to throw a huge "THANK YOU" to my friends. I know you guys aren't completely used to 5 year old antics, so thanks for your patience the whole weekend! This race had a completely different objective for me. Yes, I always want to show up to the start line and give my very best effort. But sometimes as Professionals we can forget to enjoy the experience around us. This race I wanted to savor the experience; savor having fun with my family and friends and take a step back and remember why we get into the crazy sport to begin with. Buffalo Springs is the perfect place to do that. It just has the low key feel to it and Mike and Marti put on an outstanding race that presents little fuss going into it. Saturday rolled around and our crew made its way to the race site to check it out. We did the usually swim/bike/run and we were joined by my Mom, who drove in from Houston on Friday. We also brought the trailer bike so Gwynnie was able to go out on our pre-race spin and run with the whole gang. Huge thank you to Ray. Obviously for taking care of all of us the entire weekend, but for hauling Gwyn up and down those hills. She had a blast and looking over at her on our spin, I felt like I had to pinch myself on how lucky I am. She makes you look at the whole experience differently. When I was standing up going up a hill on the bike, she looks over at me and says, "How do you do that Mommy?" The next day during the race she hopped on the bike and started shaking the bars left and right, explaining, "This is how my Mom does it!" It's the little things that make up the good stuff in life! Joanna (a new pro in OK) and I hit up the pro meeting that afternoon. It was short and sweet, but best of all entertaining. Immediately following the meeting Gwynnie and Kasey Jacobs (Jessica's daughter) got a quick hair-do from Amanda Lovato. I joke that you can't be around Amanda without something coming out pink. The girls loved the pampering!! That evening Joanna cooked up a storm in our hotel. We were joined by Jess Jacobs and her family, along with my Dad's high school football coach, Coach Ragus and his wife Maragret. I'm sure most people know what a big deal football is in Texas. My Dad's high school team was a two time State Champion under Coach Ragus. My Dad went on to play and start for the University of Houston and was also the Captain of the team. To hear stories about my Dad's work ethic made me really proud. Also, talking with Coach Ragus and Margaret made me realize why they played such a pivotal role in my Dad's life. To say he was progressive during my Dad's high school years would be an understatement. It's amazing how in tune he is with all of athletics. In fact, they even named a Natatorium after him in Lubbock! Finally race morning came bright and early. Before I knew it we were lining up to race. The water was deemed wet suit legal and unfortunately I only have a full sleeve Blue Seventy. The wetsuit is very comfortable, but once we started swimming I realized I was just too warm. On the flip side, I finally had a great swim, catching a ride from new pro Christine Anderson who I know is a great swimmer. Unfortunately we went off course for a bit. I realized what we were doing so I yelled out to her, but she couldn't hear me. I got back on course and the paddle boarder rounded her up. By the final turn buoy she had caught back up to me and we made our way back. When we ran out of the water I realized my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest and I was completely out of breath. Yes, I had swum a bit harder than usual, but I realize now this was the first sign of me getting dehydrated despite massive amounts of fluid intake prior to the race. I was out on the bike after a quick transition. I chose a different wheel set up, opting for front and rear Zipp Firecrest 808 outfitted in Challenge Tires. Last year I used a disc, but lately I've been having a real problem with the disc rubbing my frame when I stand to climb. We are still trying to get the disc right in the "sweet spot." With all the climbs here I just wanted to put my mind at ease. I will say that the 808s felt a lot more agile cornering and climbing. However, on the flat, windy sections I was kind of wishing for my disc! Ahhh, the grass is always greener, right? I got water at every station. I diligently took my nutrition and salt. I rode in no man's land nearly the entire ride, except for the few age group men that passed me. The winds kicked up and I was ready to get off my bike in 2nd and ready to crack out a good run. I ran out of T2 and knew immediately I was in trouble. I have never felt like this. I went between wanting to throw up to pass out. I felt short of breath and had no sweat coming off my body. I focused on getting to each aid station and wanted to stop the entire run. Gwynnie was out on the course on the trailer bike cheering me out and I'd flash a smile to her each time I'd see her. Jess passed me pretty early on. I also knew there was no way I'd be running down anyone. This race became one goal...survival!! At the turn around I saw I had a nice cushion on the rest of the field, so I just tried to put one foot in front of the other. By the final 2.5 miles I thought, "I don't think there is any way I can finish this." I will say the power of the mind is incredible because I made it, and immediately went to get my first ever IV bag in a race. But let me tell you, that IV is worth its weight in gold! I felt like a million bucks shortly after! Gwyn was a little freaked out by the whole thing, but I assured her in didn't hurt. Pretty soon she was all over my while I was getting the fluids in, so she obviously got over it! We collected Duncan, Suzie, and Joanna after a brutal day. We went back to the hotel and had a birthday celebration for Suzie. We loaded up and checked out of the hotel, but had 4 hours to kill before awards. We hit up Target to shop where Gwyn exclaimed, "Where's Duncan? We lost the old man!!" Luckily we found him and headed to Starbucks where we ran into the champ, fellow Oklahoman Amanda Stevens and her awesome hubby Randy. Gwyn got a new tattoo hit and tried her hand. Thank you Amanda for letting my daughter practice on you. This is what you get for beating me!!! hahaha!! We hit up awards and then hit the road for our drive home that night. Gwyn was out within the first half hour. I was jealous!! We finally got home around 3am. A huge "thank you" again to Ray for driving the grumpy triathletes home after a really long day! This trip was one of the best I've ever had. As for the race, I'm taking home some real positives. Things are going in the right direction. I had a great swim and bike, both faster than the year before. I finally took a look at my run time and will admit that I shuddered a bit at first, but I have to be proud that I stuck it out because God knows I didn't want to! Thank you to my incredible sponsors: Rev3, Powerbar, Kestrel, Pear Izumi, Recovery Pump, Rudy Project, BlueSeventy, Challenge Tires, John R. Jones, PC and Team Red White and Blue. To Kathy at Runner's World for being one the most generous, kind hearted people I've ever met! To Coach Kevin for sticking with me, to my amazing friends for taking this trip, and to my Mom for always being such a support! Love you all! Until next time!