What the hell is Ditch the Tiara?

Redefining the word beautiful...one dirty, sweaty, bruised up mile at a time, with a few downward dogs along the way...

Monday, June 22, 2015

IRONing things out.

Fuck. It's June 22nd.  and?  and.  and, well, I don't know. I just don't know. How did the first six months of 2015 escape me. I  moved again.  and it makes the ninth time.  I am so over it, but I wanted to be closer to work, closer to my absolute favorite place to ride, closer to my Joyful friend, and closer to the person that I actually call "home."  and he's exactly .2 miles away.  So it's like we're practically living together, but we're still in charge of our own laundry. And one day, I'll accidentally throw his whites in with my pinks, and I'll frantically call my mom to ask her how to get his clothes white again.  Guess I should invest in a lot of bleach.  {{{OH yeah.  Remember my duct tape post? #9? I am single again...apparently you CAN have more than one true love. I hope I find him.}}} Um. Turns out that your one true love, can actually be your only true love. And that if you do lose each other, you can find each other again. And I can thank God for that.
*I really do need to say thank you to one particular piece of duct tape that held me together during a very shitty time.  I love you Joy. Thank you for helping me to "fill up those balloons and let them go." 


Ok. So. Now. June 22nd.  You are up to speed on my personal life, you really didn't miss out on much. Now, for the good stuff. training.  racing. Ironman. What's up with all of that? Since deciding in October to stay off the bike, and out of my running shoes, I turned my focus to the gym.  More specifically the weight room, 6 days a week. There were days that my entire cardio routine consisted of 10 minutes on the stair master, then 2 hours lifting, pumping iron. lol Yes, my skinny butt is tougher than you think! And when I decided to return to cycling and running, I was scared that I had lost all of my fitness and would be starting all over again.  But that didn't happen. It was as if I never took the time off.  I couldn't believe it.  I feel so much stronger on the bike. I feel solid on the run.  and I don't feel injured. 2014 was a disaster. 3 hamstring tears, an adductor strain, a groin pull, high hamstring tendonapathy, bursitis and obturator nerve entrapment. But my stubborn ass listened to my doctors and I healed.  I still have a teeny, tiny, wee bit of annoyance on my right glute/hamstring, BUT it doesn't keep me away from what I love to do, and it continues to fade away with time.  I ran 14 miles Saturday. Rode 7 hours yesterday and I feel like a million dollars. I finally feel like a triathlete again. 


My biggest struggle these past few months, has been deciding whether or not I actually wanted to race another ironman this year. Three in five months last year was a blast, but I was hurt and I made things so much worse by being stubborn.  Forcing myself to R.E.S.T over the winter was probably one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life.  I have been an "ironman in training" since 2008. Rest is not a word in my vocabulary, never has been. My mom said I took my first steps at 6 months.  Not even as a frigging baby did I rest! BUT if I wanted to walk, let alone race again pain-free for the rest of my life, I had to rest. And I thought I was going to die. I really did. 

I have identified myself with some sort of endurance sport since 1998. I'm the girl that gets asked all the time, "You training for anything?  When's your next race?"  My friends had/have stopped asking me to do things socially because I would/will respond with a very apologetic "no, I have to get up early to train." So lame.  I was/have been so. fucking. lame.  Doing ironman is supposed to be for FUN.  I don't get paid.  I don't win.  Ironman is lonely.  and I hate being alone, so why did I choose to isolate myself so much, train alone, passing on invitations from friends to run or ride with them. Events of my past can definitely answer that question.  But it's the past.  I need to let go.  I need to LET IT ALL GO.  Easier said than done for me. I know. But I also know I am not alone with these types of struggles.  I know SO many people reading this right now feel the same way, throwing themselves so deeply into something to escape. It's easy to do. But you and I never really escape, do we? What we were running from just sits there, waiting patiently to make us feel worse. Which it often does. And at that point we really are capable of making a decision.  Keep running from your past wrinkles in life.  Or iron them out, once and for all.

Soooooo....will I do an ironman this year, now knowing what I know about myself?  I think so. Probably. Maybe? Right now I'm training for Redman (again) at the end of September. But if I decide later this summer that I don't want to do it, then I won't.  And I won't feel bad. Or guilty. OR that I am letting people down. Well, I might at first, but I know the right people to talk to about that, to get out of that old mindset and be OK with my choice.

I know for certain that I am doing two other triathlons this year. A 70.3 called Pigman with Joy. It's a fun distance for me. And she's a fun person, so it should be a blast! And then I am going to do...dare I say this...as I have declared that I would NEVER ever do this distance.  EVER.  [ENTER: HEAVY SIGH AND A DEEP BREATH] I am going to do ~ choking on my own words, eyes closed tight ~ A ... SPRINT! DISTANCE! TRIATHLON!  Holy shit. There.  I said it.  It's out.  I can now breathe.  I was originally going to race the Olympic distance. But for once, this race is not about me. I'm not. doing. it. for. me.

I will be a triathlete for someone else. A 29 year old named Andrew. He loves cats and the Beatles. He's a riot. He's funny. And he has cerebral palsy. So on Saturday, I will pull him in a raft. Pull him in a trailer hitched to the back of my bike (I hope he likes PINK!) And push him on wheels during the run.  And I can tell you right now that I will be a happy, emotional mess when we start, tearing up in my goggles, as I have at previous ironman races. My <<< triathlon jazz hands >>> will be wilder than ever, my arms will be raised higher in victory than any ironman finish. And you will see the biggest smile I have ever flashed, plastered to my face. I love this kid and I haven't even met him yet. He's my hero.  He's my inspiration. and he is the only reason that I will EVER do another Sprint again.  This race is about HIM. Not me. I will be his body, while he is my spirit on Saturday. And I'm going to proudly represent my team, #bettydesigns, fiercer than ever.

I would like to very humbly ask that you make a $10 donation to Athletes in Tandem, so that many  people like Andrew can experience the same joy and pride that we have all had the privilege of feeling.  We are all able to make the very conscious and often times, selfish choice to participate in triathlon.  We choose to feel that pain.  He does not.  He never did.  and wouldn't it feel good to share that pure joy we get when racing with someone else?  Please consider it. $10. The price of a lunch at work when you're too lazy to brown bag it.  The cost of a few Bonk Breakers and some gels to train and race with.  Please think about it. And if you are unable to donate financially, I absolutely understand.  So then I ask you to find a way to donate your time to the triathlon community. It's my family. And it can be yours too. 


AND THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY DONATED! 

Friday, April 10, 2015

Femme une femme

When I was 14, I only had one thing on my mind.  Boys. {Wait a minute. Strike that.  Reverse it. Thank you.}  I still do. At the age of 42.  Some things will never change.  ever.  like in the *history* of EVER.  and as a big time girly-girl, I'm pretty much the furthest thing from Gloria Steinem. but I AM one fiercely independent Scorpio. SIDE NOTE: And I WOULD, because I COULD, kick your ass if you messed with me or my family...with lip gloss on of course.  So I guess I'm somewhere in the middle, not really giving a shit about things, people or situations I can't control. If people want to be ignorant assholes and bash on women, or our rights, go for it. and they can also go fuck themselves while they're at it, because if I get upset about it, I am giving "them" power.  and that is not something you're going to get out of me.  Don't get me wrong, I consider myself equal, (and even at times better - what can I say - I'm a Scorpio) and I believe in my gender's rights.  But I am not going to picket and protest.  My beliefs are mine, and I don't need to publicly share them. At the end of the day, the only person's opinion of myself, as a woman, that matters is my own. But I do not condemn, nor find fault in, the women that DO openly voice themselves. I fiercely support them in my own way, and especially one in particular.

I am related to a real spit-fire of a non-girly-girl, that has such a special place in my heart. She's a total badass. And not because she's my godchild, and kindred Scorpio, with her birthday falling just one day after mine. But because she DOES give a shit about what society thinks of women, and openly voices herself. I give her massive kudos for her conviction. Why her in particular? because she's only 14. Boys?  Meh - take 'em or leave 'em...for now.  I am not going to say she hates pink buuuuuutttttttttttttttt...she kinda does. High heels, lip gloss, and lots of make-up?  Nah. While I had a wicked Barbie doll collection growing up, she fancied those Uglydolls (which ARE kind of cute) and Sock Monkeys. This kid's pretty much the anti mini-me, and so wicked cool because of it. She's her own free spirit.  Like me. Drives her mom crazy. Like I did. (Did ma. DID!) And I suppose she's not really a kid anymore, but she will always be to me. 

Earlier this year, one of her class assignments was to write a poem.  I'm not even sure what the class was, or the topic. It really doesn't matter. I just know she put some serious thought into the message that she wanted to share with her class, and I guess now the world. When I received the email from my sister, with this kid's point of view on the equality of women, my jaw dropped. My skin tingled. And then I cried.  I am not inspired easily.  Motivated?  Heck yeah. But it takes someone, or something so out of this world amazing, to inspire me.  and I can honestly say, without hesitation, that this kid is at the top of my "inspiration" list. 

Her words. Her wisdom. Her win for women. 

"You're an Over the Top Feminist..."
A Poem Explaining Why.

I am a feminist.
Why?
I am not here to hate the other sex, I am here to quiet gender roles like others try to quiet me.
I am here for the girls who feel obligated to change themselves for men who don't deserve them.
I am here to fight for my gender to not be called a bitch when being direct, but to be taken as seriously as a "powerful leader."
I am here to be looked at like a person, and not as something that can be bought, or made, like a doll on my son's shelf.
Teach boys and girls the same.
I am ready to fight and break down the wall society has made to try to block me out, to make me less important.
Because girls shouldn't feel sorry for not shaving, for dressing more "masculine" because they want to.
I will use my words as swords to cut through the mess we have made. I will as "dedicated" as a king, but I am not a king, nor will I ever be. I am a queen, I am a girl.
I am just as important as you.
I am strong and powerful and beautiful, and not bossy, not annoying, not stupid...but you can't rule without a king, right?
Wrong.
I am equal.

Chew on that haters. 


Thursday, April 2, 2015

Duct tape.

I am under serious construction right now... emotionally, mentally and physically. (aaaaaand I have decided this blog absolutely needs a facelift too...Ditch the Tiara finally has its own domain name, but I am just too lazy to start working on it!!) 

At the end of last year, I applied for all sorts of construction permits.  I was starting to pick out upgrades that I had hoped would give my mind and body a better place to live in. I knew that my "home" needed to be renovated. I tried to slow down, take time for me, rest more, train less, etc. etc. etc. Recently, I have been notified that all of my permits have been D. E. N. I. E. D.  So I'm stuck.  in the middle of this mess. Walls are half built. Floors are half tiled. Door frames are erect, but nothing to seal them shut. Where the fuck are the doors? How am I supposed to keep the good shit in, and the bad shit out?  I'll tell you how.  With some good ol' fashion duct tape.  That's how.  But sparkly. and pink.  It really exists you know, sparkly, pink duct tape?  Yeah, it's out there.  And it's fucking fantastic. And for now, it's going to have to do. It's the shit that's holding my life together.  

my newest life accessory

Side note. I have recently come to love lists. 1) They're perfect for breaking up the monotony of a regular sentence. 2) They help me to organize my thoughts. 3) I guess they're supposed to help me organize my thoughts, hence the whole point of THE list. 4.) Making a list right now will allow me to briefly, and efficiently, fill you in as to  why the hell I currently need lots of sparkly, pink duct tape.

1. I have not run since October 19th. 
2. I have ridden my bike exactly 3 times since October 25th. 
3. I love to run and I love to bike.  
4. I am not sure, nor is my orthopedic doctor, why it hurts to run, but hopefully when I see him tomorrow we'll finally figure out why.
5. At least it doesn't hurt to ride my bike anymore. 
6. I wonder how long I can make this list. 
7. I think my hamstrings are healed and are not the source of the pain. 
8. Oh yeah. I am in pain, hence the no running thing. OH WAIT...refer back to #4.
9. I am single again...apparently you CAN have more than one true love. I hope I find him. Again.
10. Work is kicking my ass, but it doesn't hurt as much as it does to run. 
11. I went through something really depressing and totally awful earlier this year.  Thankfully time is healing this wound. 
12. I want to run.  
13. I have NO idea if I am going to do an Ironman this year, let alone any distance triathlon.
14. I have NO idea if I even WANT to do an Ironman this year, let alone any distance triathlon. 
15. Add up numbers 1 through 14 and it equals, well, it doesn't really equal anything because it's a list, not an equation. der.
16. Buy more sparkly, pink duct tape.  

ps. duct tape is code word for the best and sweetest friends I have ever (and never) met. 




Wednesday, February 25, 2015

2015. girl refined. girl redefined.

2014?  It had quickly come and gone. and it was one hell. of. a. year.  It suffered the good, the bad and the ugly.  2 torn hamstring in 3 separate places.  3 Ironmans. 2 marathons.  My parents moved to Colorado.  I myself moved 3 times...fuck, I feel like such a gypsy. Cruise to Mexico. Lost my wonderful grandfather. BUT...the best part?  The part that simply amazes me...leaving me in complete disbelief, amongst the wonderful things that did happen, despite the massive bumps in the proverbial road traveled? The best part was that I fell in love. Not the teeny bopper kind of love, where I am smitten and in lust, and I will move on in a few days, if not sooner. But the kind that made me think, How in the world did I live my entire life up until this very moment without him kind of love. The kind that happens only once.

He puts the smile on my face, and the beat in my heart. He completely embraces my silly~glittery~pink~girly~sparkly self. He is my best friend. He is willing to take "gangstuh" selfies with me and flash <<< jazz hands >>> at races. He makes me feel appreciated. adored. admired. for all of who I am, for all of who I was, and for all of who I want to be. He makes me feel ALIVE...and he is the very reason that I have found the inspiration to start writing again...he has given the Tiara Ditcher a heartbeat...and she is refined. she is redefined. and she feels alive...


...and the second best part?  Is that he is totally H.O.T.  yup, the Tiara Ditcher is definitely alive! 
Love!



Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Betty Designs DISCOUNT


I am going to be sponsored again by Betty Designs for 2015.   I am thrilled to represent such wicked cool gear, designed by the Queen of #badassisbeautiful, Kristin Mayer. She has done it again and is offering up a big, fat 20% off discount now, through Midnight on Sunday November 30th! 

Please use DISCOUNT CODE welcometeambetty15 at checkout and you'll absolutely love how early the Black Friday sale has come! #bettydesigns


Happy Thanksgiving y'all!  









Sunday, November 2, 2014

2014 ~ The Year of the Betty

Despite some devastating hardships this year, both financially and emotionally, I feel like I can finally see the light that shines oh-so-brightly from the end of the tunnel.  I sincerely do my best to keep my chin up and stay positive, as my pops has always told me to do when times are tough. But there are just those days that I can't even get out of bed, let alone *lift* my head. I imagine you would never believe that at one point this year, I had $15 to my name. literally.  Or that on more than one occasion, I cried myself to sleep, wishing to never wake up. I try to keep this out of the public eye, but it is my reality and I cannot pretend to be someone I'm not. All that glitters isn't always gold. Just because I am always caught smiling on camera, doesn't mean that my life is a fairy tale...

It has been three years since my life was seemingly torn to pieces. Divorce and the loss of a baby consumed me for a long time, as I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.  Experts say that it takes approximately two years to recover from a divorce. Well, throw in the loss of a life, and you most certainly can add one more year for good measure.  Three years. It has been three long ass years, but I feel like I can finally say that everything feels like it's finally falling into place. slowly. As Marilyn Monroe once said, "Good things fall apart, so better things can fall together." 

2014 helped things fall together for sure.  It has been such an exciting year, for so many reasons. Despite being hurt for most of it, my racing season was truly phenomenal. Nothing short of a miracle if you ask me. In just five months, May - October, I did more physically despite having torn my hamstring in March, than I ever have in a year! I raced three iron distance triathlons, as well as an olympic, and ran two marathons.  I'm stubborn and headstrong.  Rest?  Yeah, that will happen when I die.  But in all fairness to my body, to which I owe countless hours of gratitude, I will "rest" this winter.  and by rest, I mean I will spend a lot of time in the gym strength training and stretching.  I owe it to myself if I want to have a successful 2015 racing season.  and by successful, I mean NOT INJURED.  

Despite the very low lows I felt this year, both physically and emotionally, the one thing that I could always count on to get me out of my emotional funks, were my phenomenal teammates from Betty Designs.  Kristin Mayer is a beautiful soul, with an incredible vision. And when she put together the 2014 racing team of Betty's, she carefully selected women who would empower one another, and lift each other up.  She was dead on...I love these women like sisters.  
I. am. a Betty!
simply put, when I wear my skulls and butterflies, I am... 


empowered.  happy.  full of life.  confident.  thrilled.  at peace.  nurtured.  excited.  motivated. inspired.  ready.  humbled.  uplifted.  grateful.  fired up.  honored.  carefree.  loved.  
fortunate. untroubled.  invigorated.  passionate.  connected.  beautiful.  thankful.  playful.  encouraged. triumphant.  gracious.  energized.  supported.  a badass. 
I am all of the things I have spent my entire life striving to be. 


   

To my dear Betty Sisters...you keep me motivated and inspired to be the best ME I can be.  For that, there is no amount of gratitude that can capture my feelings for you.  2014 was phenomenal and I am beyond excited to see what 2015 holds for us.  I love you girls for showing me just how much #badassisbeautiful !!! 

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Redman 2014

...and 48 days after Ironman Boulder, on September 20th, I did it all over again.  One last hurrah for 2014, completing my iron journey...three in as little as four months, four in 13 months.  140.6 miles?  Yup.  I'm addicted to the distance.  I guess there are far worse things to be addicted to, believe me...but I'm pretty sure I am addicted to those too...

This fun little baby to Oklahoma City (OKC) was born last winter, when my friends Jennifer and Jeffrey, ten year veterans of announcing this small town race called 'Redman', invited me to be their guest athlete.  OKC in September...  hm...  It could be super hot, humid and windy that time of year.  It may have taken me about 20 seconds to decide.  I'm in! 
So on September 18th, I set out for a 10+ hour drive with my biggest fan (my mama!) and off to OKC we were. Did I mention that I HATE road trips that involve being in the car for more than 4 hours?  The destination is always Ugh City. Population: One pissed off ME!!! Anyways, upon arriving to our final destination, I could feel the moisture in the air as my overly-processed, forcibly straightened hair instantly curled...yesssssss! And my skin was glowing. AND I could breathe...we had made it.  Hooray! The weather was absolutely perfect for this Midwest girl.  Hot. Humid. Windy.  I was going to be right at home. and we all know ironman *is* where my heart is.
World's best Ironmom
I had the perfect day-before-the-race day, as I chilled out with my mom, leisurely getting my gear (and ass) ready for the next morning. It's just crazy that nothing about racing gets me nervous or anxious any more.  I am totally in my comfort zone come time to hit the water.  It's as if I was born to do this. for FUN of course. Lord knows it's not to make a living!

As expected, I slept like a rock.  I sprung out of bed, excited as hell that I was going to be able to spend the day doing something amazing.  I ate, suited up in my skulls and butterflies, and headed to the start.  As we arrived at the lake and made our way to the beach, I watched the flags whip around wildly and knew immediately that this might (ok, would) be the most challenging swim in my seven years of this sport. Oh. my. mother flippin' god.  My swim goal was immediately reduced from 1:19, to just hang-the-fuck-on-for-dear-life-and-finish.

So.  with jazz hands in tow and a freakishly positive attitude, a dude in a kilt playing bagpipes lead us to the water.  It was go time.  and somewhere around 7:25am, off I went.  for about 100 meters.  and I stopped.  breathless and with the feelings that I had been in a college bar fight. with a linebacker. a MASSIVE linebacker.  Unfortunately, I only breathe to the left and guess which direction the wind was coming from for 2/3's of my first lap? Let the prayers ensue.  and each one started with, "Dear God - please don't let me die today.  It would so not be cool to die on a Saturday."  I swam a few strokes.  Tread some water.  Got pounded by waves. Doggy paddled forward as best I could.  Stopped.  Swam some more strokes. Tread some more water.  Got pounded by bigger waves. Doggy paddled forward as best I could. Repeat. and this little routine I got into lasted for two hours.  TWO BLEEPIN' HOURS.  and the moment I emerged from the water, a good 2.6 miles later as confirmed by every single person with one of those fancy water-proof Garmin watches, I made my way to the sand.  triumphant.  victorious.  and so grateful that I survived.
T1 was a blast.  There was something like less than 45 women doing this race...did I mention that under 250 (if that) athletes did the full? Yeaaaaaaaaah...this was quite a difference than the usual 2500+ field I battle against. So my point of T1 being fun was because there was just one volunteer manning the tent the whole day...and she was I.N.C.R.E.D.I.B.L.E!  Best energy in a volunteer that I have ever felt, and she was on top of her game.  I entered T1 exhausted and starving, as that was the longest time I had ever spent in open water.  She already had my bag open and all of my things neatly laid out.  It was pretty easy for her considering I was one of the last ones out of the water. She gave me serious words of encouragement and a big hug.  I got out of there as quickly as my body would allow me to, and FINALLY made my way to my bike.  It was easy to spot considering there were about 4 other bikes left on the racks.  ahhh, just like the good ol' days.  

I made my way out of the lake area, with some sweet-ass cross and head winds that decided to be my number one spectators for 112 miles.  yay.  As I exited the dam, some complete asshole ran me off the road.  He wasn't paying attention as he made a three-point turn, which involved the back of his car coming right at me. I popped off the road, thankfully able to hold on, as I rolled down the grass and into some rocks.  Near death experience number one of the ride (unfortunately it occured twice!)  I swear my heart rate jumped over 200bpm, right after it stopped...holy shit, that has never happened to me before.  112 miles is a long way to ride, and so rather than give you the play by play of how awesome it was, [ENTER: WICKED SARCASM] I will tell you this: it WAS my slowest 112 mile ride ever, as in EVER ever, as I stopped at every single aid station to graze, pack ice down my jersey and shorts, stretch and pray. Did I mention yet that it was over 100 degrees with the heat index and the winds were 18-20mph?  Um.  that was pretty sweet.  Like praying-for-your-life-to-baby-Jesus sweet.  I did my best to keep my chin up though, and stay positive.  and let's not forget those prayers to baby Jesus...please get me off this bike alive!  

T2. I made it!  The lil' guy upstairs came through. and T2 was even MORE fun than T1.  Again, all of my things were neatly laid out by our transition angel, and I think I spent almost 20 minutes just "messin' around."  I visited with my friend Jennifer, as I told her all about my super FUN bike ride. I even had a chance to call my boyfriend (don't ask how) to let him know I was still alive, despite the Day of the Dead poster mocking me on the tent wall.  Alright.  It was time to test out the legs.  Would they work?  and the pretty persistent glute and hamstring injury that had no issue sticking with me all summer long...would it limit me to another kick-ass 6 hour marathon walk?  Well, it was time to find out. and off I went.



and...they worked.  my legs actually worked.  slow and steady at first.  It's pretty typical for me to take 8-10 miles to get warmed up.  Having been hurt (like, all year), I hadn't spent a hell of a lot of time working on my run transition off the bike. I spent more time just trying to *run.* It hurt for sure.  My glutes HURT. But I didn't care.  I didn't. care. at all.  I let my passion take over and for 26.2 miles, I smiled.  and I ran.  and stopped at all the aid stations. and made friends with volunteers and spectators. and smiled. and ran some more. and flashed copious amounts of jazz hands. and smiled. and started picking off all the people who crushed me in the swim, and kept ahead of me on the bike. and I passed them... one by one.  Not competitively though.  I just dug deep and ran. Despite the heat, the wind and the humidity...the hardest iron-distance triathlon of my life was becoming my absolute favorite race ever. as in EVER ever.

The volunteers far out-numbered the amount of us traveling 140.6 miles.  It was magnificent.  I don't think I have ever felt such a strong camaraderie among athletes either.  We were all suffering, at varying degrees, but we all did our best to encourage each other on.  As the sun set, the heat and humidity remained, crushing egos and destroying souls.  But as you may now know, I LIVE for these conditions.  I flourish in them.  Not in speed, but in spirit.  and for 5 hours and 15ish minutes (I have NO idea what my time was), I smiled. and had the time of my life *running*...




and then it happened.  after a 15+ hour day, left feeling like a small rag doll that had been tied to the back of a semi-tractor trailer, traveling across the country's rockiest roads at 400mph, I became a 9X Ironman. And you want to know something? (as sick as this sounds)  I had a fucking blast. Sadly, there were only 129 finishers - 34 females and 95 males.  Something like 38% of the field DNFd.  Do you know how lucky I feel?!?  LUCK. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE! And the moment I crossed that finish line, I am pretty sure I uttered the words, "I will never do this race again!" Um.  never say never?  

I really need to say THANK YOU you to my mom, Jennifer and Jeffrey Kragh, Betty Designs because #badassisbeautiful and to every single person, both on and off the course that day, for making my dream of snagging another 140.6 mile finish come true. I love y'all to death!  This was a  CLASS ACT race, despite the tough conditions, and I would recommend it to anyone that wants to prove to themselves that they are so much stronger than they think...