Sprinkles and Spandex

This weekend I got a bit down on myself. I’ve had a lot of stress since Texas surrounding what my next goals should be, mixed with a desire to be FAST like so many other amazing (superhuman?) athletes that saturate our sport. I guess I’ve gotten to that point where I’m faced with the question “who am I as a triathlete?” 
I read one of my first blogs after starting triathlon the other day. It was filled with wonder, excitement, and just a complete acceptance of whatever race day may bring. I didn’t recognize that voice whatsoever. Not that it’s completely a bad thing. Ironman distance forces you to take training seriously in order to be successful, and I’ve gained so much confidence over the years. But at the same time, I found myself missing that joy, the complete disbelief of what my body might accomplish, and the total gratitude that came with the entire experience.
The last few years that I’ve lined up at the start of a race (I have only raced long distance courses since mid-2015), …

I have lots of feelings about this race. Mostly a mix of overwhelming relief that it’s over, but yet gratitude for a strong finish on one of my toughest race days. I don't feel I have any natural, athletic talent. However, I do pride myself on being mentally strong. I think that’s something that’s been instilled in me from an early age- a drive to never quit, even when everything is breaking down and nothing seems to be going the right way.  My brain just says "Just one more step. Just one more. One day or mile you might not be able to, but right now you CAN." I've found that the point where the body actually fails rarely actually comes. That’s what I love about this sport, and also why it’s so addictive. That’s also the part of me that was tested more than ever at Ironman Texas.

It's not that I had a bad race, or that anything major went wrong. It was more like a series of tiny disappointments mixed with a complete inability to get my head where it needed to be i…