Susan's Race Report

apologies for how long it’s taken for me to write this up and for how long it is. But, as I said before, this experience has become so much larger than what it is, it was hard not for me to find more meaning in it the more I thought about it. This is obscenely long. To summarize: I finished in 7:09 with no major injuries. I do hope you’ll read this through.

New Orleans

I knew I had started an adventure from the moment that Jocelyn picked me up from the airport. At 12:30 at night Jocelyn rolled up to the front of the airport to pick me and my boxed bike up. In her tiny four door hybrid.

I asked if the seats went down and she responded with a strangely calm “No.” After what I was almost certain would be a futile attempt, we managed to shove the box into her back seat, were it became very apparent that the box was wide than the car. By several inches on both sides. We did the awkward “Maybe if we angle it” trick for a few minutes before we finally settled on taking my deconstructed bike out of the box, putting it and the pieces in the back seat and taking apart and folding up the box so we could use it to return with.

The next few days were a whirlwind of race prep and errands. Picking up forgotten necessaries, putting the bike back together, going to the race orientation (where I was again warned of gators on the bike), seeing the progress of CIA’s projects and reconnecting with old friends. I also got to see my sister, niece and cousin who had conveniently scheduled their spring break in New Orleans. I also got to see Jocelyn, master multi-tasker, at her best. While I was there Jocelyn was also managing a skilled carpenter who was volunteering his time for Project Marlo, helping lead reflections for several high school groups who had come down to serve AND throwing CIA’s monthly First Fridays – open socials which bring folks from the community and recovery groups and double as both stress relief and amazing networking events. How she managed to do all of it well AND make sure every need I had was met AND take me to transition at 4:30am on race day, I’ll never know. Rest assured, every penny invested in CIA is resulting in 100x as much output!

There was a strange sense of homecoming about finally returning to the city I’d spent so much time. It had been almost two years since I’d been back to New Orleans and it felt odd to not be driving a 15 passenger van or supervising college students. At the same time, the noise, the people, the accents, the food – all felt like nothing had changed.

Race Day

After an unusually good night sleep for the night before a race, 4:30am saw Jocelyn and I watching inspirational ironman clips on YouTube (think eye of the tiger playing behind footage of impressive looking triathletes) before leaving for transition. It was still dark out as I racked my bike and laid out my gear which I’d checked over at least four times the day before. Meanwhile I looked around me and begin to wonder if I wasn’t in over my head. The NOLA Half-Ironman was the first domestic qualifier for the official Ironman series Half-Ironman championship. I was surrounded by people with fancier spandex, chiseled muscles, aerodynamic helmets and bikes that cost more than my student loans.

As I walked the 1.2 miles to the swim start (wow was that intimidating), I started to panic. Who was I kidding? Less than two years ago I had been smoking a pack of cigarettes every two days. I still didn’t run faster than a 9 minute mile unless something was chasing after me. I was out of my league and I wasn’t good enough. I was already preparing my “I didn’t finish…” speech in my head when the woman next to me patted me on the shoulder.

“Don’t look so nervous! You’ll be faster than me I promise!” She smiled up at me and introduced herself. Karen was a 5’3”, pudgy 45 year old mom of two who worked as a nurse. After the stress of Hurricane Gustav gave her a week’s worth of panic attacks, she had resolved to become “more unstoppable than a hurricane!” The Ironman seemed like her best option. “They’re gonna be faster than me,” She said gesturing to a groups of inhumanly in shape women walking in front of me. “But I’m not stopping. I’m gonna finish even if it takes me 10 hours. Even if they take my timing chip, I’m finishing.”

So maybe I’m not sponsored by Clif and I have a Big Gulp instead of six pack abs, I thought. I’m here to finish. As my dear friend Annie Selak reminded me ‘Do you know what they call the last place finisher of an Ironman?”

‘An Ironman.’

Swim

The sun had just started to come out as I zipped up my wetsuit and waded into Lake Ponchatrain with all the other 25-29 year olds. A whistle blew, I dove forward and my race began. Other than the fact that I was swimming in Lake Ponchatrain, where the city drained into after the Hurricane, it was perfect conditions. The temperature was perfect, there were no waves and the cloudy water kept me from getting a glare while I was sighting. Folks spread out early so I settled into an easy rhythm. To be honest, I actually enjoyed it. I thought of all the love and patience people had given me the past six months and how lucky I was to know so many fantastic and kind people. Before I knew it, I was wading out of the water. I glanced down at my watch – 45 minutes. A full 15 minutes faster than I’d thought I would take.

Bike
Part I

Energized by the swim, I transitioned to my bike, eager to get started. The sun had started to come out and it was turning into a beautiful day. After a few small tours, I got onto one of the main straight away for the bike. The weather was perfect, the wind was a light breeze and I felt great. My cadence was high and I was going 20mph. I felt giddy – the ride seemed ideal. Everyone else seemed to be having a great ride as well. People cheered as I passed them – one guy yelled “Who needs aerobars? You’re kicking ass!” – and folks were chatting and encouraging each other.

Although you aren’t supposed to ride too close to each other, you end up talking to a lot of people on the bike as you pass them or ride ahead of them. More and more I began to realize that everyone had a story. A woman who survived Cancer. A man who had just lost his job but not his spirit. A college student who, 5 years earlier could barely walk after a car accident. A grandfather who swore he’d get his cholesterol down so he could see his grandkids graduate. A woman who had just last week moved back into her house after being displaced by Katrina.
Heartbreak. Loss. Faith. Renewal. Determination. It was all out there, cranking those pedals, slowly covering those miles. I felt lighter than I had in months. The sun was out, I was doing something I loved and I was surrounded by amazing people. I had an experience of joy that I hadn’t known in months and I thought of something my spiritual director had said to me a few weeks ago. “You do anger very well Susan. You acknowledge it, you don’t hide it, you don’t take it out on people and you channel it to do good. But you do joy much better.”

Part II
I remember hearing a man yell over my shoulder as I pedaled away from a water stop “Just 20 more miles to go!” My excitement at being over halfway done allowed me to ignore a slight queasiness I was feeling (most likely from too much gatorade-esque fluids and not enough water). I turned off of highway 11 and into headwinds.

15 mph headwinds that continued to barrel down at me for the next 20 miles.

It’s a demoralizing feeling to look down at your bike computer and see that even as you are doing your best with tired legs, you’re still barely hitting 14 miles per hour. And just as that joy on the first half of the ride did, a malaise seemed to descend over everyone. No one was talking. No one was shouting random compliments. We were on a barren stretch of bayou road with only the sun, the pavement, the damnable wind and each other for company. People were blatantly drafting each other (which is illegal in triathlons) just to move forward.

I started counting down miles on my odometer one by one. A nerve in my left arm started tweaking and shot bursts of pain straight from my wrist to my shoulder on and off. My thighs had started to twitch uncontrollably as I road up to what should have been the last water stop, ten miles before end of the bike course.

What should have been. A teenager in a green shirt yelled an apology “We ran out of water!” as some of us started to slow down. To call water stops crucial is like calling the Pope a Catholic. My mouth was sticky. I’d had too many Clif Shot Bloks and not enough water. I was tired, my legs hurts, something was wrong with my left hand and this wind, this F&%ING wind, hadn’t stopped. I saw road support loading a guy who looked like he had heat exhaustion on to a truck. For a moment all I could think was “I get on that truck. I go back to transition and call it a day. I’ve already done almost two-thirds of this race. No one will think less of me. I’m tired.”

The real test of endurance races is not a physical one. How fast you can run has nothing to do with what really matters in these races. Every day of training – every run in the rain, every fall on the bike – is a preparation for the moment when every fiber of your being wants to stop. Not just a fleeting burst of pain or fatigue but that soul crushing sense of being finished in every aspect of your person.

What I’ve learned over the past year is that it is in that moment that you prove yourself – not at the finish. It has nothing to do with your physical body and everything to do with who you are at your core. In those moments you move forward because of shear will power alone.

The thing that kept me riding into those headwinds for those last 20 miles wasn’t my nice Cannondale, my clip in shoes or the countless hours I’d logged on the bike. It was the same thing that kept me from giving up on even the worst of my students in Wheeling. It was the same thing that kept me showing up to work everyday in JVC even though I worked at a place where no one got better and nothing got “fixed.”

I was moving forward because of who I was, who God had made me to be. It had nothing to do with my physical capabilities.

I could stop. I could get off my bike. But that wasn’t who I was. “The Pretender” by the Foo Fighters echoed in my head.

“What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another pawn in your games?
You're the pretender.
What if I say I will never surrender?”

I thought of everyone I knew who had quit on me and the people I love. The ones who bailed when things stopped being fun. The cheaters, the liars, the fakes - and how I would never be one of them. I would never give up on the important things; never back out on the people who needed me. I would stay faithful. I would keep listening for God. I would endure.

I stared down my demons and crushed all the fear I’d had of who I might someday become. In that moment, I knew I’d achieved what I was meant to. I still needed to finish the race, but I was already an Ironwoman.

Run

I rolled into transition on the bike after 3 hours and 20 minutes – ten minutes shorter than I thought I would take, but still tired and frustrated by the bike. I saw my first spectators – Jocelyn and Jamie (her student intern/general minion) and headed into transition. I dropped to the ground with a thud, thankful not to be sitting on a bike saddle anymore. I switched shoes, put on my visor and used the port-o-potty. What I didn’t remember to do was put on my sun screen, which I would be sorry for later.

As I walked out of the transition, the woman next to me said, “Do we really have to do this?” and I responded, “I keep waiting for them to yell ‘Just kidding!’ and hand me my medal.”
I had been dreading the run, not only because I HATE running, but because I was worried about being the only person walking especially given how hard core the majority of this crowd was. To my consolation, I saw that as soon as I got onto the course, most folks were trotting by at a very slow pace. Every now and then, someone would sail past, but sure enough they had an “R” written on the back of their left shin and not their age. R was for relay. They only did the run.

It’s hard to describe the run. I was doing a 7 – 2 system. Run at least seven minutes and then walk two, running longer when I could. I was on the course for 2 hours and 45 minutes (told you I’m slow) but it did not feel that long. Every moment was an internal struggle. I passed hours simply doing things like telling myself not to look at my watch until I passed that tree or just run 45 more seconds. The miles passed. I turned and began to run down the beautiful shaded City Park.

At mile 7, I hit my physical low point of the race. Suddenly I was overcome with nausea. I staggered into a walk and started to dry heave. I knew if I stopped moving, I’d never start again so I threw my arms on top of my head and walked, sweat pouring down my face. I must have walked a half mile before the feeling subsided and I started to jog again.

My cheering sections on the run were fantastic. I saw Jocelyn and Jamie again at mile 6 and Emily and Lauren, friends from New Orleans at mile 9 and 11. They were decked out with signs, purple wigs and Emily even jogged part of the race with me. At mile 10, just I turned on to Esplanade, I saw my sister, niece, cousin and a swarm of some of my former students at Wheeling who have moved to the NOLA area. Seeing them perked me up enough that I ran for a longer stretch than I had in miles (which was still only for a bout 5 minutes, but hey, you take what you can).

Finally the last three miles passed and I turned onto Decatur, one of the busiest streets in the French Quarter. The streets were packed with cheering families, drunk frat boys and confused tourists who weren’t sure if this much spandex was normal for New Orleans or not.

I jogged across the finished line and someone handed me a very shiny medal. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment as I looked over my shoulder at the finished line. It didn’t feel like I’d been movement myself forward through my own power for 7 hours and 9 minutes. It didn’t feel like I’d just accomplished the thing I’d been training 6 days a week for 6 months for. I felt great. It felt surreal. But it didn’t feel over.

And so maybe that why as Jocelyn was jumping up and down and screaming “70.3 Freaking Miles!!” I smiled and said, “Want to do it again next year?”

Because it’s not over. The city still rebuilds, the people still face challenges. Every achievement is amazing. Every family moved back in and every new daycare center are massive milestones and cause for celebration, but none of them are the final word as the city continues to renew and continues to need us.

And so it is with us. Every achievement no matter how great or small isn’t the last word on a life. There is still more to endure. There is still more laughter. God is still calling us to love and be loved– yesterday, today and every day for the rest our lives. And so we press forward in hope, knowing a little more about who we really are with every mile.

To close five LONG pages, I just want to say a humble thank you to everyone who has been on this journey with me. Your love and prayers have kept me afloat and kept me going in the darkest of days. When I came back to get my cell phone after I finished my race I had 22 text messages and 17 missed calls. I have never felt so surrounded in love as I have during this experience and I am deeply, profoundly and speechlessly grateful. You have been my “cloud of witness” as I’ve run this race and my experience of grace alive and at work in my life.

“We continually remember before our God your work of faith, labor of love and endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Thess 1:3

Unitard Pictures

Sorry for the delay friends - but here are the unitard pictures. One will be selected, signed and mailed to all the great folks who donated.

As Promised....

Because when you've given all then you give your dignity

Thanks for giving! Enjoy Susan in class with her unitard!

Susan is my hero!

Official Time: 7:09.

Swim: 46 minutes
Bike: 3:20 (she obviously would have been faster if it weren't for the headwinds for the last 20 miles...)
Run: 2:45 (she was tired... and you try running a half marathon after competing for 5 hours!)

1796 out of 2800 plus competitors.
454th out of 644 women.

Susan was greeted by numbers of folks including: Jamie Broussard (Jocelyn's volunteer who got roped into this), Audrey Stewart and Gabe and Dominic Stewart-Guido (local friends of CIA), Emily Bussen (Jesuit Volunteer in New Orleans when Susan was in Houston), Lauren Pelascini (Emily's roommate and fantastic purple wig-wearing friend!), Beth Blasiak (former Wheeling student and current New Orleans nurse at University Hospital), Sara Brown (former Wheeling student and currently working at Bering Omega Community Services (her and Susan's previous JV placement), Jess Blissit (for Wheeling studnet and current Habitat for Humanity-Slidell AmeriCorps volunteer... going on 2 years), Andy Nilson (for Wheeling student, lived in the Mother Jones House that Susan worked for/with, currently works for Habitat for Humanity -Slidell), Kristen and Cecilia Buecker (Susan's sister and niece respectively), Carie Long (Susan's cousin), Geoffrey Hennies (current CIA tech guru), Dan Quigley (current volunteer carpenter with CIA) and a group of 25 high school boys from Xavier High School in New York (a CIA Thoughtful Response Team of volunteer group) that greeted Susan at the finish line.

Thank you Susan! Your endurance inspires us to persist in our work and our ministry. Thanks for bringing us along on this wonderful journey of faith and action...

Today is the day!

It's 7:52am and Susan's wave of racers begins their swim! I can't believe it... 6 months of preparation coupled with a lifetimes worth of pain, suffering, joy, heartache, success, faith...

Pray for Susan as she swims for the next hour...
Pray for Susan as she bikes from approximately 9am-12:30pm...
Pray for Susan as she runs from Approximately 12:30-3pm...

We also ask you for your continued prayers for our schools and our children...
our hospitals and all those under of un-insured...
our churches and those who offer social services to many of our poor...

Endurance isn't just about today... it's about all those moments that have taken us up to today and that will move us along past today and into a better way, a better life, a better tomorrow.

Just Swim

So I'm back in New Orleans for the first time in almost two years. It's been surreal to return to a place that's so close to my heart. I've gotten to spend most of the day with Jocelyn and her volunteer carpenter extraordinaire Dan. I've gotten to see the great progress they are making on Project Marlo (the poles look great guys!) as well as see how many services CIA offers to folks as well as how connected to the community they are. Jocelyn and Dan drove me through the Ninth Ward today so i could see some of the progress. Since my first trip down post Katrina in December 05', I've gone through (and sometimes worked in) the Ninth Ward. I've seen the initial detestation - buses on top of boats, houses lifted off foundations - the eerie quiet of an abandoned neighborhood - slabbed lots, silence on unmarked streets - and now the signs of life and rebuilding.

Sure there is still along way to go in this devastated neighborhood where only 19% have returned, but a school has been functioning there a little over a year and Brad Pitt's Make It Right Project is building like crazy! Already 6 totally green and safe house are up and residents are moved back in and construction is thriving on at least another 6.

It's a great reminder to me to always focus on the horizon - on what can be - even when progress seems slow. I'll need it, especially during the swim. With open water swims you can start out going fast and furious only to find you seem no nearer to the horizon than when you started. it's only when you settle in to a good steady (and sometimes seemingly slow) rhythm and focus that you move forward.

Which brings me to another song on my workout playlist. This one caught my attention for obvious reasons - could a triathlete not love a song about one of the three disciplines? - but I also love that it talking about moving forward even when days are dark, even when you aren't sure what you can hope it. So in the journey to run to something, not just from it, sometimes you just have to move forward even in the absence of sun...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEGXlniaaug

"Swim"

You've gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
Swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the door
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your lovers your sisters
And brothers your friends
Yeah you've gotta swim
Through wars without cause
Swim for the lost politicians
Who don't see their greed as a flaw

The currents will pull us
Away from our love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the door
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
Cracking me open now
I swim to brighter days
Despite of the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I'm not giving in
I swim

You gotta swim
Swim in the dark
There's no shame in drifting
Feel the tide shifting and wait for the spark
Yeah you've gotta swim
Don't let yourself sink
Just find the horizon
I promise you it's not as far as you think
The currents will drag us away from our love
Just keep your head above
Just keep your head above
Swim
Just keep your head above
Swim, swim
Just keep your head above
Swim

A Blessing for Susan and all those competing in New Orleans this weekend

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the rain not fall upon your race,
May Pontchartrain’s trash not slow you down,
May images of muffalettas greet you at every turn,
May the alligators eat your dust,
And, until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

This blessing was generously contributed by Jessica Mueller
and the folks at Shabbat House in Oakland, CA.

Down to the wire

I can't believe it... the day is getting closer. Susan will be here late Thursday night, and she'll compete in the first-ever New Orleans IronMan 70.3! Amazing...

Thank you to all those who have continued to pray and race with us. Our PayPal account was up to $2,452.62 today! Keep it coming folks!

As we prepare for Susan's arrival, the following plans are in the works:

1. Our First Friday Social (a program that has been consistent since our founding) is scheduled for this Friday. We'll be throwing a pasta feed for Susan and hopefully getting more commitments from folks to cheer her on along the route just as she has heightened awareness of New Orleans and our efforts these past few years...

2. Talk about down to the wire. Our completed application for Federal Tax-Exemption has finally been filed. THANK GOD! We had up to 27 months since our incorporation to file... now it really is just a matter of months...

3. Dan Quigley is a student at University of Colorado at Boulder and has been volunteering with us for about a week and a half. He was practically born with a hammer in his hand and a carpenter's belt strapped to his waist! so... we are able to work when we either have money or have a skilled volunteer. Dan and I are hoping to finish putting a new fence up at one of our sites with Project Marlo, but yesterday we were told that we put our posts too far back... now we've got to dig them up and start over... oh well... I'm just glad our neighbor caught us now while the adjustments wouldn't be too drastic.

4. Anna and Marlo were touring Milwaukee and Chicago this past week and spent much time introducing Project Marlo to folks. These two must be beat with all the conversations they've had these past 10 days! On a related note, Anna was able to pick up a new-to-us truck in Ohio... so now instead of driving fence panels in my wonderful little hybrid, we've actually got our own truck!

5. Lastly, we've been trying to get momentum to actually have consistent events with our local kids. Some volunteers are hoping to organize Saturday events for a few neighborhoods. If you are at all curious as to why CIA would be interested, visit this site and take a moment to watch the story. not to be overly dramatic, but we have an opportunity to help a kid change his/her life around simply by being present and showing that we care.

All in all, we've been down to the wire with most things... and a little bit of hope goes a LONG way. So, thank you for your support, thank you for your friendship, most of all, thanks for racing with us and offering jolts of hope... and hopefully... that is what endures.

Running Away From, Running Towards...

As it gets close and close to race day, I've been thinking about something my friend Kenny Buckler told me. He said that all endurance athletes are either running away from something or running towards something. The best and most whole of them are doing a little of both.

It's been easy for me to look at my "career' and see what I was running from. After all, the big push that started me running these races was a break up. I've been trying to out swim, out bike and out run my insecurities and demons for almost a year. I've made tons of progress in some parts of my life, but lately it's felt like I've hit a brick wall. What forward progress have I made?

Most folks know that my life is run by music. My life is on a soundtrack and without it, I'm only functioning at half capacity. I've been listening to the same exercise playlist (with a few changes) since last May. As I was going over the songs today, I realized that even my playlist was running away and toward something. The songs that had accompanied my runs and bikes for months had a flow to them. So in an effort to focus on the race I thought I'd share some of the songs that have been in my head for the last few months and what they mean to me:

The Pretender by the Foo Fighters

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKhnmUdmz74

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began

Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in... again
The need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are ever ready
Are you ready?
I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defense

Spinning infinity, boy
The wheel is spinning me
It's never-ending, never-ending
Same old story

[Chorus (x2):]
What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?

In time or so I'm told
I'm just another soul for sale... oh, well
The page is out of print
We are not permanent
We're temporary, temporary
Same old story

[Chorus x2]

I'm the voice inside your head
You refuse to hear
I'm the face that you have to face
Mirrored in your stare
I'm what's left, I'm what's right
I'm the enemy
I'm the hand that will take you down
Bring you to your knees

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend

[Chorus x2]

[x2]
What if I say I'm not like the others?
(Keep you in the dark)
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
(You know they all... pretend)
You're the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?

So who are you?
Yeah, who are you?
Yeah, who are you?


I love this song not only because it's great to push you through that next hill but because it puts into words that feeling of needing to get away from the Pretenders in your life. Whether they are people or things, we've all got something we define ourselves against. I will not be like them. I will not do that. This song lets me scream in the face of all the betrayal and rejection that I'm "not like others." I will not quit. I will not be like you. And nothing proves you won't surrender like finishing a Half Ironman.

But its not enough not to be something. The question is who will you be? What are you running to?