Race day was March 28th, but this story begins a few weeks early.

5 Weeks Pre Race Day: I CRASH! It’s supposed to rain, but it’s So Cal, so it doesn’t. I debate with Brian, my friend and training partner (such inadequate words for him, but what’s adequate?, I don’t know), whether we should meet for a ride. We should. I get out a little earlier than him so do a few extra miles into Culver City, and head back west to meet him. The guy on the beach cruiser in front of me is going slow, but decides to veer far left (because of dogs? I’m not sure in the moment) right when I am passing him to the far left. I have no where to go. Still clipped in, no time to even slow down, I tumble to my left and land hard on my left side then back. My head hits HARD and I instantly have a headache. I am blurry and crying and unaware of what else hurts besides my head.

5 Weeks Pre Race Day (Ten minutes later): I am loaded into the ambulance with a neck brace. I feel incredibly foolish with a neck brace, and even more foolish crying. Brian arrives and gets our bikes in the ambulance and holds my hand and I keep crying. I tell the medic that my head is a 10 on a pain scale of 1 to 10, but maybe so is my elbow. Brian tells me this won’t get me out of the triathlon, and I tell him that he should know me better. My first thought was that I still needed to do the triathlon.

5 Weeks Pre Race Day (Thirty minutes later): I try to move my arm, I can’t. I try again, the pain is off the charts. My head is about to explode and my arm is immobile. We spend the next 4 hours in the ER in our spandex, and the doctor and nurse don’t notice the cut on my elbow until 2 minutes before releasing me. It wasn’t the most thorough exam ever, to say the least. And I think my neck might be in worse shape for having the neck brace on for 3+ hours.

4 Weeks + 6 Days Pre Race Day: Visit Orthopedic doctor, more xrays, confirms that I have two fractures in my left elbow and a pinched nerve in my neck. Lots of bruising on my lower back. The Xray technician tells me I smell better than anyone he has ever Xrayed. “Vanilla lotion”. He says I must be known for it, he will never forget it. It almost is inappropriate, except that I hear this from many people. I’ve worn this lotion for 20+ years and likely will never stop because these compliments feel nice, even when a bit awkward. I ask the orthopedic doctor “Do you think I can do the triahtlon in 5 weeks?” “If you do everything I say, but you certainly can’t train between now and then.” So I had thought last year I should taper earlier anyway.

4 Weeks + 4 Days Pre Race Race Day: My elbow is bigger than my knee, my forearm is bigger than my calves. And I don’t have small calves!! See the image below, my elbow was in there somewhere….BUT, I see the orthopedic doctor again, and he tells me that I’m already healing like a 19-year old. “NIKKI, YOU HAVE THE BODY OF A 19-YEAR OLD AND ARE HEALING VERY QUICKLY.” This is a direct quote I will use for a very. long. time.

The Next 4 Weeks: I am religious about physical therapy. I do the exercises at home. I do heat, stem, ice, repeat, over and over. I try to straighten my arm. I hold apples with my chin to get my neck strong. I rest my elbow on a rice bag every where I go. I feel overwhelmed being late to work every day (later than usual), fitting it all in. But somehow I do. When people say to me “I don’t know how you do it all?” I often wonder “Do I have a choice of not doing it all?” That’s never a choice. This is different, to be honest. I could have bailed on physical therapy. I could have sat out the race. I am not winning any awards by doing it, I am not earning any money. But there’s something more important to me that I get out of it. Maybe I’ll uncover what that is exactly while I sort through my race day thoughts. Not a small part of it is that I have always known how tough I am, and this injury, while painful, barely seemed enough to stop me.

My Taper: Between February 22 and March 28th, I do physical therapy that looks equivalent to me flexing my neck muscles, straightening my left arm, and trying to hold a 200 page book with my left side. I go on a run 3 weeks post accident and my sit bones and back hurt so much I am pretty sure that I broke them all but no one diagnosed it. (The second and third and fourth run felt exponentially better….apparently, my back wasn’t broken, I just had to work out some kinks). I swim 3 times — one 1200 yards (800 of it kicking), one 1600 (800 of it kicking), and one 1800 yard swim. All easy. I go on one 30 mile bike ride to be sure I can take it. I think I can, but very few others believe this to be true. Meanwhile, Kai goes on a rampage taking photos of me while I am stretching. They are leg and tummy shots. He gets impatient with me taking time to stretch and do the PT I can and fit in the small runs, and releases his frustration by deciding to be a photojournalist. Unbeknownst to me he texts some of the photos to my friends and uploads one on my Instagram page. I almost delete it, but then see my BFF Agatha say the photo is hot! And I do a double take, and think, it’s not bad! Why delete? It’s been no fun being injured and not being able to work my body like I like to, so if I get a good picture out of it, so be it.

Race Day -1: I check into the house we rented. So beautiful! Right on the beach. Charming, spacious. You can watch the waves crash from every spot in the house. A far upgrade compared to the Holiday Inn last year. Brian makes dinner. He thinks this is so simple, to me it feels like luxury.

Race Day – 5:30 am: Brian and I ride the 4 miles to the start of the race. So to be clear, we log 4 miles in the dark on the bike before the race even begins.

Race Day 6:30am: I set up my transition and think that I certainly have the hang of transitions down by now.

7:15am: I am in the corral with the other women in my age group. I see a face that is vaguely familiar, and realize it is a girl (woman) I swam with in high school. We talk. I feel a bit like I am still 16 years old, but wiser and likely slower in the water.

7:17am: The elite men are out of the water and run by us. Wow. They have great bodies. They have really good bodies! I am pretty sure this thought stays in my head for the next 13 minutes or so. If you saw their bodies up close, you would see there is no shame in this.

7:30am: In the water up to my knees, waiting to be let out to the start line 50 yards into the water. Seals come and play in front in front of us – 4 or 5 of them. I’m in awe of them. I know some people would be scared to swim with them, but I am amazed that I get to enter their world even if just for a bit.

7:33am: I START! The official race has begun. I hope that my elbow and neck survive it. I say one quick wish to the universe….to my Grandpa Ray….to Lauren…to the god of good karma. To whoever is listening.

Swim (Mile 1): I actually feel great! I feel on my game. The other women go out fast, but by 1/4 mile in, I am passing them one by one. I see the girl I used to swim with in high school and we swim together for a bit, then I pull ahead. I feel stronger as I go along. I feel like the best memories of my best swimming self. Maybe there is something to be said for tapering? My elbow feels fine….I don’t even feel it….okay, I feel it a little at about 3/4 mile. A little more each stroke after that. Okay, to be honest, it hurts, but I still feel fast. I’m 3rd woman out of the water and in a see of men as I run to my bike! My friends are there cheering me on, I’m so grateful for them! I’m smiling!

Transition 1: I’m only woman in the transition area of my age group. All other bikes still racked. I can’t get my wetsuit off because I suddenly have no power left in my left arm. It hurts to pull. It’s a bit hard to pull a wetsuit off just with one arm….and shoot, my tri shorts are coming off with it. Damn it. This isn’t very graceful. As I try to squirm out, the girl I went to high school with comes (the bike right next to mine!) and she is off and biking in like 1 minute. I am still getting my shoes on! So my transitions aren’t going to be stellar today. FINALLY, about 6 minutes later (this is pathetic) I have my helmet on and I run to the exit with my bike. I make a pit stop at the port-a-potty — what is one more minute going to hurt? And thank god I do, I realize my helmet is on BACKWARDS. (Remember when I did a triathlon with extra pants on without realizing it? This is worse, but at least I realize the mistake). And CRAP — my Stinger nutritiion falls out of my back pocket into the port-a-potty. THIS IS THE WORST TRANSITION EVER. I smile, because what else can I do? I almost cry thinking I have no nutrition now for 56 miles but then realize that I had some nutrition packs in my bike as well, so keep the smile.

Bike Mile 1-10: I’m happy to be on the bike. But it’s cold and windy. I feel more wet than last year … there was no cloud covering, no head wind last year. But I trust it will warm up in no time. My legs feel strong, I remind myself to relax my neck. Don’t think about my elbow. I know the course this year, so am not worried about hills or what is to come. But shoot, this means I’m already bored. I need to get out of my mind. People feel more spread out already, I’m not really riding with anyone. So I need to just think of something …. work? No. Work is crazy chaotic. Very good, but stressful, and I need to stay relaxed. The kids?….They are with my mom, having fun. I love them. That doesn’t get me too far. I spend the first 10 miles trying to think of what I can think of to get me out of my mind.

Bike Mile 11-20: It’s still cold, still windy. Why do the flats feel so hard? Oh yeah, because the headwind. Why does my neck hurt? Oh yeah, because I have a pinched nerve. Why does my elbow hurt?? STOP. Don’t think of these things. Just ride and get lost in other thoughts. I think of some of the songs I have on constant rotation right now. Chris Brown – New Flame. Man, I love that song. Dierks Bentley — Say You Do. Man, I love that song. How can I love both these songs?? I’m not sure many people singing Chris Brown can also sing to Dierks. But I love the lyrics of both. I love a love song. I love love. These songs start me thinking about all my dates since last year’s Half Ironman — there have been lots! Mostly good, some very good, some better than others. I think of some of the good ones and smile. The bar was set high by a special few I care about and I am grateful for them. I think of the worst one and laugh out loud (story for another time!). I start taking an inventory of mileage…and I realize that last year, Brian passed me about Mile 20 of the bike. I realize I’m at Mile 20, and there’s no sign of Brian. Maybe I’m doing decent. I’ll pretend. There is something to be said for a balanced approach to training, and I think I found it.

Bike Mile 21-30: My elbow hurts. My neck hurts. The wind is cold and I am cold. My thighs feel tight. I try to loosen them up, warm them up a little. I try to get lost in my thoughts again. I’m passing a few guys, they are all really heavy. Really big. It can’t be easy to do this with all that extra weight. Some women pass me. How do they go so fast? I need a bike coach. I had one date planned with one cyclist this year – and it’s the only first date I cancelled. We were going to ride together then get breakfast, and I realized when he was planning the start time of the ride to coincide exactly with the sun rise (because he doesn’t like to ride in the dark, but doesn’t like to ride with the crowds) that it wasn’t a match. This isn’t a surprise considering what I said (wrote) about the men we met after riding the Century Ride in Solvang. I’ve learned a lot and had a lot of fun dating, including that life can be adventurous and unpredictable. But I can say for certain that while I might need a cycling coach, I will never date a cyclist. Never say never unless it’s a certainty. My elbow hurts.

Bike Mile 30-40: The hills begin! I am starting up the first hill. How did I climb a hill after bonking at Mile 70 of the Century Ride? This sucks. My legs hurt. But wait, I’m good at hills. I go slow and steady and I get up them and feel great along the way. I need to remember this. A couple guys pass me, but not many. Wait, Brian just passed me! We say hi, it makes me happy. I keep my feet light, like he reminds me to on other rides. I go a lot faster down the hills than I did last year. This isn’t because I’m brave, it is because I want to get off this bike! But I am a little brave, and much more comfortable on the bike. I drop down into my aero-bars more often to relieve some pressure from my neck. I’m trying to coach myself out of this, but I’m hurting. But I focus on the fact that I am a wholly different cyclist than I was a year ago, even injured.

Bike Mile 41-50: I remember the youTube video that Brian sent to me this week, that his wife had sent to him. About listening to yourself. About coaching yourself with positive thoughts, telling yourself you can do this. I start self coaching. I think I literally say out loud: You are tough. You are a fighter. You have survived harder things. I say all these things. I tell myself I will feel better with each mile. Each time I want to say WTF ….. why is this taking so long?…I try to reframe. I say something positive. So it’s cold, I’ve been colder. So my neck hurts, it’s a small part of my body. So my elbow aches, the hard part is over. But damn it, this wind won’t stop and I should be enjoying the flat part now but it doesn’t feel flat.

Bike Mile 51-56: I just want to get off the bike. There is no other thought. Get me off this bike!

Transition 2: I AM SO HAPPY TO BE OFF THE BIKE! Much smoother transition, and I smile seeing the Red Bull I took as a joke this morning. I’m actually happy for it. This would have been my fastest transition ever had I not paused to drink the entire can of Red Bull. I’m 1000% positive I’ll be happy I took the extra two minutes for that. It’s not like I’m winning any prize money! I have the visor that Brian’s wife lent me instead of my sunglasses and this is so much more comfortable. I’m happy. I notice that I smell a little like vanilla, too. This is miraculous! I think of my friend Casey, from college, who had dinner with us after the NYC Triathlon last summer, and how he would joke that I always smell good. I miss Casey.

Run Mile 1: I AM SO HAPPY TO BE OFF THE BIKE! I see Tim, who did it last year but sat out this year for no valid reason other than he is wise! It’s more fun to cheer! I tell him my neck hurts. My elbow really hurts. But I say it with a smile so I don’t think he really heard me. Or believed me. I don’t think Tim ever believes me.

Run Mile 2: I feel great! My legs feel loose already. I’m keeping my pace slow and steady, as I started way too fast last year and I want to descend the miles.

Run Mile 3: I FEEL GREAT! it’s easy. I love the visor. There is ice at the aid stations. There is so much more music than last year. So many more people. This is incredible!

Run Mile 4: I see Tara (Brian’s wife). She runs with me for a bit. I’m smiling and happy and grateful for her. She says I look strong. I tell her I know I can negative split this run. We run by the house we are all staying at. My friends are handing out ice and playing music and having too much fun. My cousin is with them — all having a blast. They are so lucky I am insane enough to want to do this race again and that I’m a good planner….we found a great house!

Run Mile 5: I pass them again running back north, and Tim pours a huge bucket of ice water on me. My shoes are soaking, but I’m happy. It is hot and the ice felt great. I’m 1000% sure I am going to negative split this. I am euphoric.

Run Mile 6: I hear the song Turn Down for What? and smile. Sasha loves this song. She dances so spastic when she hears it, I can’t help but smile thinking of it. I’m running wtih a crew of people — maybe 7 or 8 of us — all of us smiling and staying steady. I couldn’t be happier.

Run Mile 7: The hills don’t seem nearly as bad as last year! I was in great shape last year, but tapering thanks to the injury is paying off. I love this!

Run Mile 8: Hhhhmmm….. it’s getting hot. My legs are feeling tired. I kind of want to walk. Don’t walk! Am I still happy? I am not sure….

Run Mile 9: My legs are shuffling a little. I am slowing down. But there’s good energy, good music, and I will get through this. I am still 80% sure I can descend this. I compare myself to how I felt last year — 1000 times better. I compare life to how it was last year — 1000 times better. My training this year involved way more socializing, many more dates, a few (few*) less rides and runs. More adventure and more peace. A lot of pride….man, I handled this past year, this past two years, pretty damn well. I certainly can handle 4 more miles of a run. And it’s mostly flat! I’ve trained on Los Liones hill all year…this will feel like nothing. Nothing compared to a straight 5 mile uphill. I get my second wind.

Run Mile 10: Second wind doesn’t last long. I want to stop. I am about to run by our house again, and I see a fire truck outside of it. Is that for me? It must be. Wait, it’s not. They don’t even know I’ve lost my second wind already. Did one of my friends fall? Is my cousin okay? What is going on? They are all gathered around a woman laying on the ground next to the fire truck. It’s not me, but I have to remind myself of this!

Run Mile 11: One of the guys I’ve been running wtih since Mile 4 tells me I’m keeping a good pace. I smile and say thanks, he’s helping too. It’s a nice little exchange, and I pretend I don’t want to stop. At Mile 11.5 I run by our house again. The fire truck is still there, but my friends see me coming this time. (The woman who needs help is being helped by the firemen). Tim asks me what I want — water? a coke? my walkman? A shot of whiskey? I say I want to walk. I WANT TO WALK. (I also sort of do want a little shot of whiskey, but can’t even let that become a real thought.) Kate starts to run with me. We run about 20 yards and I say let’s walk. We walk. I say I’ll start walking when I get to the next house, then I say, well, actually, the next one. The next tree. the next aide station. I walk a good 1/2 mile. I’m grateful that Kate thinks it is impressive that I am walking. Part of life is just having friends that are impressed with you even when you aren’t impressive.

Run Mile 12: Well, I am 90% sure I won’t negative split it, but I start running again. My feet and legs don’t feel horrible, but my neck sure does.

Run Mile 13: I keep running. Last year at this point I had no thought, I was blank. This year, I am very aware of 1) being happy, 2) being proud, 3) my neck hurting, 4) I can’t wait to have a cider, 5) i can’t wait for the massage table!, 6) i’m pretty sure I’m sunburned, 7) I am pretty sure I am going to this again in 2016.

Run Mile 13.1: I pass a woman on the way to the finish line. I smile for the camera. I am about 10 minutes slower than last year, but considering the injury and headwinds, I’ll take it. Brian’s wife is there to cheer me on and snap a photo. I find Brian right away. He’s smiling, which makes me smile.

Race + 20 minutes: I am at the massage table, and my neck feels like new. This masseuse has magic hands. Can I stay here forever? It lasts a solid 25 minutes — not bad for a free, post-race massage. But Brian’s lasts 10 minutes longer. I’m insanely jealous. I’ve never been more jealous of anything. Ever.

Race + 40 minutes: We wait 30 minutes to take shuttle back to start to get our bikes. The shuttle drops us off a solid 3/4 mile from the start line! We should have just walked.

Race + 60 minutes: Brian and I bike home the 4 miles back to the rental house. That makes a solid 79 miles + for the day! And we are smiling. Our friends are there. My cousin is there. More friends come over. Friends from work, friends from high school, friends from swimming. We drink. Brian and I here how our house was the fan favorite along the race course, giving people anything they wanted. One racer even made a pit stop and took a shower in the house during the run! The cider tastes good, the laughter feels contagious. I still have sweat and salt on me but I somehow feel fresh and clean. Friendship and love and fun can do that. The ocean sounds relaxing and inviting. I’ve written about missing Brooklyn, about trying to find roots here. In this moment, these hours, that follow the race, I don’t miss anything. I feel rooted down with people I love and respect and have fun with. I feel myself. I’m happy.

Race + 4 hours: We go to Bagby Beer! Jeff Bagby, a friend from high school, sees me and gives me a hug and lifts me a solid 4 feet off the ground. I feel light as a feather and recall the same hugs being given by the same guy when we were 16. That’s 25 years ago….really? I don’t feel 25 years older. His brewery is awesome! I see some guys I went to high school with, I introduce them to my friends from life now. My smile extends from ear to ear. These are all good people around me, around each other. I feel tough as nails and kind and gentle all at once. This blog doesn’t do it justice, but these races are about lots more than just the swim-bike-run. And that feels good, even with a hurt neck and elbow.