Chicago, Round 4

August 28th, 2016. Chicago Triathlon. Again. There's something about being able to sleep in your own bed that keeps me coming back. I know the route, I know what to expect, and it's my home turf. What more could a girl want? I was ready. I was trained. I was strong. Let's do this!

The swim. By this point, I knew exactly what to expect. I also knew that I was slowly starting to max out on my swim gains. Unless I started getting even leaner, which I was slowly doing, but it had been rough going. Always rough going. The fat girl inside just always wants more food! But I digress. The swim. It was a great morning. I felt strong again. Came out of the water 8th in my age group. Wowsa! 24.39. Getting faster, apparently!

The bike. I was ready to throw down. I knew the route, I knew I got to be Batman again, and I had the clip in pedals to really drop the hammer. And I did. 1:16.33. Another 4 minutes off! I was 4 minutes off of last year! Awesome!

The run. As soon as I started, I knew it wasn't meant to be. It was so hot. I hadn't hydrated enough. My legs didn't have it. The run walk that had gotten me this far was starting to let me down. And by that, I mean I started to let me down. I didn't know it at the time, but I was over-trained. I didn't taper enough with the thought that I was going to "train through" this race in preparation for Arizona 70.3. Mentally, I had that though process, but subconsciously, it was devastating. My final run time was 1:06.32. 3 minutes slower?! Unacceptable. Overall time was 2:59.47. Still a PR. I should have been proud of myself. But I knew I could do better. I knew I hadn't left it all out there. I didn't fail, not to any external force, but to myself? To my standards? I had failed. And that failure fueled me better than any success could.

At least I looked fierce!