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Prepared to embrace the suck...

Prepared to embrace the suck…

This past week has been a flurry of activity for me.  Work, Puppy, meal preps, laundry, school and sports for Courtney, preparing for Jake’s up and coming High School graduation and oh yeah, this seasons first 70.3 for me in Connecticut,  I am a hot mess. I decided to throw caution to the wind, show up and try to finish this race. I’m not sure, but I think my Mom is right. I AM CRAZY.

I am so underprepared for this race, it makes me nervous as hell.  I have been having intermittent bouts of mini panic attacks and full on freak outs, which are usually followed by an overwhelming feeling of nausea and “WTF am I doing this for” moments.  I decided two weeks ago, I am going show up and prepare to embrace the suck and all this course has to offer me and the other triathletes participating.

I went to my parents house last week after work, plopped myself on the couch like an overly dramatic teenager, kicked my shoes off and put my feet on the edge of the coffee table.  I threw my arm up over my head , leaned back and started to watch MASH with my parents. Now, normally this would be the part that my Dad would remind me that the coffee table was not the appropriate place to put my feet and to please remove them.  He didn’t. Weird. I could feel his gaze on my right side and slowly looked over at him and smiled, still waiting for the request to remove my feet. “Hi” I said. He reached up, scratched his head and said, “You know, Trace, You don’t have to do this race.”  “I do, Dad. I have to do this race.” Dad said: “But why? Why do you do this to yourself, it’s so hard!”

I paused for a brief moment, smiled and said “Because, even though I freak out, I actually love it, Dad!  There is a saying in triathlon that if it was easy, everyone would do it.” “I’m going to show up, give it the best I can give it and see what happens.  Even if I don’t finish, I still showed up”

“I guess that’s half the battle then…showing up.”

Yes, Dad.  Yes it is.

This past week, my Mom has helped me develop my on course nutrition (Almond Brittle, the recipe is in the helpful info links.)  I have trained with the Untapped Maple products and the brittle with zero problems and I’m confident it’s just one less thing I have to worry about.  I have watched all the videos on YouTube of the course and I’m mentally preparing to work really hard on the hills and not fall off the bike.  I have been swimming in my wetsuit in my parents pool, trying to figure out how the hell I can propel myself through the water with only one strong arm.  I have been doing my HIIT training and running intervals the best I can. I dropped off my bike at Cycles 54 this week for the pre race tune up and some new gear ( I actually bought more water bottles, GIGGLE.) . (http://cycles54.com) I did all of my food shopping and even finished most of my laundry.

Am I as prepared this year as I was for last year?  Absolutely NOT. Do I think I am going to finish? Honestly, I DON’T CARE.  I was able to coerce Ladybug and her Friend Ellana to come with me this year as my support crew.  Neither have been to a Triathlon before, sprint or otherwise, so what better way to introduce them then to a Half Ironman.  So, I purchased them some VIP tickets to give them the full experience. (I just might make a triathlete out of one of my kids)  They get to be up close and personal to all the athletes, the food and most importantly: THE FINISH LINE. I am so excited these girls get to experience the pre race electricity and see all these crazy talented athletes cross that finish line.  I want them to see for themselves that HARD WORK PAYS OFF.

Today, I pick up my bike after my Medic shift.  I go home, pack up my gear and go into decompression mode.  My taper blues is in full affect today and it’s making me a bit batty.  (I forewarned my Medic partner, Kevin today there will be no Shenanigan’s. FYI. There was nothing BUT Shenanigans today)  Tomorrow, we head up to Connecticut for our check in and enjoy the pre race festivities. Saturday, I buckle in and prepare to embrace the suck.  

I might have to conference Kelsey today to make sure I have my mental clarity, LOL.  (WWKD?) (https://www.kelseyabbott.com)

I will hopefully be able to blog one more time about my pre race adventures before Sunday.  Please think good thoughts.

If you would like to track me and the other Triathletes, upload the Ironman Tracker app to your cell phone.  My bib number is 2326. My Speed Sherpa Teammate, Jen Delaney is bib 121. (Jen is a legit badass. I can’t wait to see how well she crushes this course.)

Until then, stay safe out there and be good to each other.  T



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My "Do Over" September 28, 2018

September 28, 2018 was a new start for me.  Well. Not really a new “start” per say but more a “do-over”.  After my DNF at IM 70.3 LP on Sunday, September 9th due to a Spleen and Kidney injury I was allowed to start training again.  


I have to say, there is not much I am afraid of.  Legitimately. But this day, I was afraid. I have determined to this point that the bike has been and will continue to be My primary nemesis and now the pain it has caused me has made me afraid of it.  AGAIN. Well, I’m afraid of the pain, not the bike. I love my bike. The pain, I don’t love that.


After much discussion and back and forth with Michael for both the positive and the negative sides of triathlon, the decision was made to start training again.  Once I made the commitment, the fear set in.


I consider myself to have a super high pain threshold, especially after the break to the bones in my right leg in 2010.  The pain I experienced with this most recent injury is the most intense, relentless pain I have ever experienced. Relentless. Every minute of every day, asleep or awake, I was reminded that my Spleen was angry.  I had swelling on my side that was pronounced enough that you could see it under my white uniform shirt. I lovingly referred to it as my “Spleen Baby”. I was tired, sore, swollen, short of breath and generally crabby.  


To my fellow EMS providers that had to put up with me for those two weeks, I’m sorry.


September 28th, I suited up, stretched and headed out with instructions from Michael.  Start slow. 30 seconds on 30 seconds off, see if you can tolerate it and only do 20 minutes.  So I did. One foot in front of the other. Right foot, Left foot. Right foot, Left foot. Right foot, Left foot.  


Zero pain.  Like a child on their first day of school, off I went. Within a minute all of my fear and anxiety began to dissipate and I smiled and continued on. I finished, came into the house mildly short of breath and Michael asked how I did.  ZERO Pain!!


Then it sank in.  Eventually, I would have to get back on the bike and ride outside. Well, SHIT.


On October 2nd, that is just what I did.  I don’t know who was more leary, Michael or I.  Well, I think Michael may have showed it more than I did.  I hydrated, suited up, pumped up my tires and went through my gear to make sure I would have everything I needed.  Then just like that, I clicked in and off I went. At about the first half mile, the fear started to take a back seat to being hyper vigilant to my surroundings (at work we call it Situational Awareness).  My train of thought began to focus solely on the traffic, bumps in the road, animals and the smells of fall in the air.

At mile 5 I looked down saw how far I had gone and I smiled.  It was glorious. The wind in my face and the quiet solitude of just me and my bike, My little green monster.  


I’m not really sure at what mile exactly it happened, but it did.  The fear completely went away. When I returned home after 15 miles, it was clear to see that it had left Michael also.  It was like a breath of fresh air had entered our home.


So in the process of me attempting to finish my first half Ironman this past September, I learned a lot of new things and made a lot of new friends.  There is one in particular who I am especially thankful for coming into my life. You know that one friend who comes into your life when you most need it, like a giant hug from the Universe saying: “Here, I made this just for you!”.  Her name is Denise, she is Friends with Michael, they were training buddies for IMLP in July 2011, she had been following my progress all along and had a vested interest in my success.


Denise is an Ironman.  She has completed 5 full Ironmen over the course of 8 years.  Her resume also includes 15 marathons, two 50K’s, one 50 miler and a 212 mile bike in one day.  


Denise is a legit BADASS.  (if you ask her she uses the hashtag #usedtobeabadass.)  Denise has become my go to girl and my biggest support system next to Michael.  She is a Nurse, She is my Sherpa and I love her. Denise and I signed up to do a 70.3 together and train for it.  Our choice? The newly acquired IM 70.3 VA on May 5th. The rooms are booked, the entry has been paid for and away we go!  On a daily basis now we compare notes, training, equipment, diet but mostly, Denise shares her wealth of knowledge and experiences with me.


So, Denise and I have decided that we will set aside two days a week with our rotating schedules for our long runs/rides with one of the two being a rain date/alternate training date.  We may or may not have Michael convinced to do one with us!


WE will keep you posted!!  


Denise, Jaker, Ladybug and Myself will be participating in this years “2018 Stomp the Monster Almost 4 Miler” in Manasquan, NJ on Saturday, October 20th if you want to join!  No timing chips, just a great group of people running for a great cause and post race hanging out at our local go to place, Leggetts!

https://runsignup.com/Race/Events/NJ/Manasquan/StomptheMonsterSpooktacularAlmost4Miler#event-245946


Until next time, Stay Safe out there and BE GOOD TO EACH OTHER!!  - T



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How it all went down...

I worked last weekend on the Medic truck and by Saturday night, I could feel the burn of a sore throat looming on the horizon.  Sunday morning, my ear hurt and I couldn’t swallow so to Walgreens I went. By the time I left for Placid on Tuesday, I was having a hard time breathing and was coughing up a ton of mucous.  Travelling through the mountains was nothing shy of painful, I felt like my left ear was going to rupture. I started a vigorous routine of rinsing, Zicam, Dayquil and was leaning on my puffer pretty hard.  Walking up the twelve steps to the top level of the Wilmington house was painful and I was super short of breath. I locked in and locked on in every attempt to rid myself of my lung plague before the 9th.


I have a saying.  If something messed up is going to happen, it will happen to me. IT DID..  


While not feeling great and finding myself generally exhausted from fighting a virus, I was angry that I had made it this far without having gotten sick in months.  Such is the peril of working around sick patients, I guess.


My Mom and Dad said that if I chose not to participate in the 70.3 because I was sick, they were ok with it and they were sure that “everyone would understand”.  “I’m ok, Mom. I didn’t travel all the way up here to not do this because of a cold”. “Whatever you decided, Dad and I will have your back”. “I love you, Mommy.  Thank you.” “We love you too, Tracy.”


I rested all day on Wednesday and tried to purge the demon mucus from my lungs.  Thursday, Michael made me an amazing breakfast, we had our coffee and I went to walk to clear my head and see how my lungs felt.  I was winded easily, but I figured a few more days and I will be good to go. Sometime after lunch, I meandered my way to where I keep my equipment in the house and walked up to the living room to get on the trainer to spin a bit.


I got the side eye from Mike.  “You need to take it easy”. “I’ll be good”.  


FAMOUS LAST WORDS.


About 45 mins into me spinning, I was leaning down on my bars and felt the bike move.  Weird. Maybe it is sliding on the hardwood floor, I thought. I kept spinning. I felt it move again, looked down at my blocks and instantly realized the BACK of the bike was moving not the front.  A split second later, with no time to react, the entire bike slid out from under me, listing me up and to the left. My left side came crashing down onto the hardwood chair that was pushed up against the wall with nowhere to go.  I slammed onto the chair, which then promptly bounced up and fell over and on top of me while still attached to the bike. Michael came running over, trying to free me from being bound up in the trainer and chair but he couldn’t move me without me screaming in pain.  

I laid on the floor for what seemed an eternity, Michael was able to get my boots off and started slowly sliding everything away from me.  I couldn’t move without feeling like a knife was in my side and I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. I rolled to my left side, laid there and caught my breath then when I could, rolled to my belly and tried to stand up without vomiting.  After a few more minutes, I was able to get to the couch with some help and packed my left flank and back with ice. “Michael, how bad is my bike?” (For the love of all things holy, I know) “I could care less about the bike, do you need to go to the ER?”  “No, please check on my bike. I’m pretty sure it’s really messed up.” About 20 minutes later, Michael came in and said “Yup, the skewer is bent and the bad news is...so is your back tire.” Well, SHIT.


The messed up thing here is this: I knew how bad I was hurt and in all actuality, if any other person other than me presented like this to a Medic at that time, they would have been treated and taken to the hospital.  But, nope. Not ME. Like a complete jackass I was worried about my stupid bike. Then I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to compete on Sunday. Again. Well, SHIT.


When I was able to move a bit and the advil started to kick in, I called Placid Planet Bikes (a Specialized dealer) explained to them what happened and asked if I could please bring my bike in to have them assess the damage.  She clearly heard how upset I was and said to come right in. We made the trip into the village, I tried to get out of the car and I genuinely couldn’t. After a few minutes, Mike was able to help me out of the car and we walked my banged up little monster into Placid Planet.  


The woman who greeted us was the same woman who had answered my call.  She first asked if I was ok, because she said she could hear how upset I was, then ushered me to the back of the building so they could look at my bike.  They worked to fix it, but most importantly, helped to calm me down a bit. What a great group of people they are and I was super appreciative. We left with my girl patched up and ready to go on Sunday.  Me, however not so much.


I spent the next two days in and out of the tub, soaking in epsom salt.  Damn, I was miserable.


This was nothing shy of a bad idea.   


Sunday morning at 03:00, the alarm goes off.  I meander my way to the tub, make it as hot as I can tolerate it and dump in epsom.  I get dressed and head up for breakfast and coffee, Michael and Mel are already on it.  We pack up all my gear and take the 20 minute ride to the village and I have my way with the radio and my playlist.  “This is ME” comes on and it is turned up as loud as is tolerable and we all sing. It makes me happy. For a few minutes at least, I forgot how miserable I was and tried to enjoy the process of having my tribe with me as I geared up for this test of mental and physical endurance.


I laid out all of my equipment and wiped down my wet bike.  It was so damn cold, the air hurt to breathe. I laid everything out in order of use, put my wetsuit on grabbed my “morning bag” for whatever I needed to wear to keep me warm before I got into the water and headed down the carpet to a quarter mile to the beach.  


Everything burned, my lungs, my nose and with that...my back and side were unbearable.  I turned in my gear, walked over to Mel and Michael said my “I love you’s” and walked to the tent.  I hear the announcer say “This is the coldest start to an Ironman LP in history. It is 31 degrees out right now” WONDERFUL.  I waited for my wave and watched the pros walk through the entrance and disappear into the fog. Time to find my happy place….


A girl walked past me, frantically looking down and moving her way through the crowd.  I asked “Are you ok?” She looks up and stares up at me, visibly upset. “I’m beside myself, I lost my goggles, have you seen them?”  “No, I haven’t” “Oh my God, I don’t know what to do.” I said, “If you cannot find them, please come back and find me” An older gentleman turned slowly and shook his head, “that sucks”  “Yes, yes it does”


About 5 minutes later, she came back and said.  “I’m screwed, I can’t find them and they don’t have any extras”.  


Now, let me go back.  On Thursday’s check in before I fell we went down to the lake so I could take a picture of the Ironman rock.  (I know I am a freak with the pictures but it’s my thing) while standing there a little whirlwind of a woman comes down the path with a purpose.  She immediately starts up conversation (My kinda girl) and asks if Michael is doing the Ironman (She saw his tattoo) “No, She is” she giggles, we giggled, and we all talked.  She gave me some pointers, I helped her zip up her wet suit and showed her the easy way to do a surfers loop with the strap. As it turns out… She is an Ironman. Several times over, starting the sport at the age of 50 after her babies were all grown up.  She qualified for KONA….MORE THAN ONCE. This woman, of small stature was a legit badass and personified what being a triathlete was all about. She is a ROCK STAR. She left me with some positive reinforcement and a word of advice about the swim: people will swim over you, crawl over you, kick you in the face and head. Be smart about it, shove an extra set of goggles in your wetsuit to protect yourself and your ability to finish the race.  “That is fantastic advice, Thank you” SHe made my day, she made Michael’s, we took her picture to prove to her kids that she was in fact going for a swim, wished her good luck on Sunday and left with a smile on our faces.


“What do I do?” This young girl says to me.  “Here, Take my extra set” I reached into my wet suit and pulled out the goggles I had because of advice offered to me and handed them to her.  “Wait. WHAT? Are You serious?” “Yes, absolutely” “Oh My God, How can I get them back to you after the race?” “Don’t worry about it, just go out there and have fun and do right by me and finish”  She hugged me and I hugged her back and she hurried back to her group. The old guy standing next to me, turned slowly and smiled. He knuckled me up and said “I’m super proud of you, that was an amazing thing you just did”  “Thank you.”


It was now my waves turn to get into the water and I did exactly how I was trained.  I gave myself space, paid attention to who was around me and started my breast stroke to get myself to where I needed to be so I didn’t get trampled in the water and began my free style swim.  I had one of the best swims of my life. I felt strong, I moved past people and I wasn’t fatigued. I exited the water to hear Mel and Michael screaming “GO T!!!!” I smiled.  It made my heart happy. The swim after all, has always been my weak suit.


I came up to the carpet, started peeling off the layers and attempted to jog down to transition.  Michael ran alongside me yelling that I did great on my swim and like an affirmation of all my training was finally coming together I carried on determined to get to my bike and keep moving.  I couldn’t catch my breath, it hurt to inhale.


I got changed, got on my bike and headed out for the 56 mile course.  My left side hurt so bad I couldn’t get comfortable on the bike and holy shit was it cold.  It had only climbed up to 35 at this point and with wet hair and minimal clothing this was going to be a challenge.  For the most part, I kept good time until I hit mile 25 and something started to change. I felt like I had a grapefruit on my left upper quadrant, I was nauseous and couldn’t catch my breath.  I tried to stand up by felt like a knife was tearing through my flank when I did. Something was wrong. I came to mile 35 and finally decided to make a pit stop to use the bathroom. I couldn’t stand up straight.  A NY State Trooper offered to hold my bike for me, I thanked him when I was done and carried on trying to figure out how to get around this terrible pain I was in. Never in a million years did I think I was putting myself in harms way, but somehow I knew I was going to time out as I didn’t have the strength to push any harder.  


Mile 46.4.


The van pulls over and I knew I had timed out.  “You are not going to make the time cut off, you can finish if you want but we need your chip”  The Trooper who had been rooting me on for the last 5 miles stopped when I did. I unclipped and said, “No.  I’m done. I need to get back to my family.” The Trooper exited his car and said “You fought until the very end, I am proud of you” “Thank you, Sir.  I am actually proud of myself too.”

I rode back in the van with other athletes, some who got pulled because of equipment failure that was unable to be fixed, some because they were injured and others that this brutal course just ate up whole.  One of the riders stated that there were “dozens” of athletes who tapped out at the first “aid station” in Keene due to the cold. I thought to myself, I at least made it close to the end.


I came back into town, grabbed my items from transition and began the process of exiting the area.  I was met by my tribe and was so damn happy to see them with smiles waiting for me. I was happier to know how proud of me they were, I literally tried my hardest but today was just not my day.  “I’ll get it next time, this was fantastic learning experience”


We made our way through the mountains, back to the house and I went back to the tub.  See, here is where I knew I was really in trouble. I couldn’t get out of the tub without feeling like I was going to vomit.  I couldn’t expand my chest wall to take a breath, I couldn’t cough and I couldn’t lift my left arm at all. At dinner, I was crazy uncomfortable and getting more so every minute that passed by.  Then, the crushing chest pain, shortness of breath, left shoulder pain, nausea and sweating.


OH NO.  NO. NO. NO. NO. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING.


But it was.


Mel and Mike packed me up in the car and we headed to Saranac’s ER.  I was taken right in and evaluated. EKG, ok. IV, Aspirin, Toradol, IV Fluids, Zofran.  Physical assessment. Diffuse left upper quadrant pain, radiating to my left shoulder. “We need to get you to CT scan right away and take a look at your Spleen”.  Off I went.


To hear a Doctor talking about traumatic injuries while on the job is one thing, but to have it be you a Medic on the receiving end is something completely different.  It turns out, I significantly underestimated how badly I was hurt. I had bruised my Spleen and left lung in my fall on Thursday. The Doctor informed me that the Bike was not only really bad news, but the run may very well have been catastrophic as my already swollen spleen could have ruptured.   He gave me a look, and a list of things I needed to keep an eye out for and if they appeared to come right back in.


We were up for a solid 24 hours that day.  Longest day. EVER.


I spent most of the day in bed Monday, resting enough to be able to make the 6 hour ride home.  We came home today and here I sit. In bed. Resting. I am thankful that things didn’t turn out worse and that given time, I will heal and be able to start training again in a few weeks.  My body may be bruised but my ego and most importantly, my spirit is not. I have learned so much to this point about me, the real me, what makes me keep getting back up and trying despite my body’s best efforts to force me to quit.  Mostly, I have learned that there are so many good people out there who love and support me in everything I do. For that reason, I will pick myself up, dust myself off, get back on that damn bike and work harder to earn the title “Ironman”.


Stay safe out there and be good to each other ~ T



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I AM TITANIUM....

So, today I left my local Starbucks and headed North toward my Medic shift at JSUMC.  I was sipping my green tea and had a warm feeling on my right cheek.  It was the rising sun, My promise of a new day.  Even after 20 years on the Medic truck, the anticipation for what is awaiting for me between the punches still gets in my head.  I am still kind of groggy, this is the third 12 hour shift in a row. I haven’t really slept in a few days as much as I should have and today, I feel it.  I’m distracted with my own thoughts (so many of them) specifically, the bike course of IM 70.3. I’m still gun shy from my fall. I have been working on my hill climbs and getting comfortable being out of the saddle and pushing my non cooperative legs.

Suddenly, my attention is immediately drawn to what is coming over the radio from my iTunes.  “Titanium” I am a firm believer that when we need it the most, signs are thrown at us from the universe but most are too distracted by life to pay attention.  This time, however I was locked the hell on with all of my senses and I hear this specific phrase:

“I'm bulletproof nothing to lose Fire away, fire away.  Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away. You shoot me down but I won't fall, I am titanium.  You shoot me down but I won't fall I am…”

Titanium.  Yes, I have it.  It’s a constant reminder of an injury that has prevented me from being the athlete I always wanted to be. That’s always been how I processed that song, reminding me of my own personal titanium.  Then I realized, wait. That’s not the song’s message. This song is not so much about titanium, but about taking whatever life has to throw at you and not letting it take you down. It’s about always getting back up.  It’s about perception versus reality. That’s it. Universe, I got your message loud and clear and thank you for the reminder.

Last week, I started the “taper” process portion of my training.  It’s that part you look forward to as you know the super long hours of training start to wean down, theoretically giving you some more time with family and friends.  The downfall of the “taper” process is loving referred to as the “taper blues” and apparently, I have a raging case of it. It’s hard to describe honestly. The easiest way is maybe to say it’s like the week before summer is over. You know the days are getting shorter and you have to go back to school and you grumble in anticipation.  I have come to rely on my pre medic shift exercise induced endorphin rush and I miss it terribly. I’m legit a crab and ball of stress.

Last week, I went through all of my pre race “to do” list.  Bike check up, pharmacy refills, supplement refills, things that are lost and or missing.  WHERE THE HELL DO ALL MY WATER BOTTLES GO?!?!?!  Ugh, Jaker and Ladybug that's where.

Most importantly, I went to the Podiatrist to make sure my feet are in good health.  I make it a point to take exceptionally good care of my feet since I broke my leg. I go every three months for evaluations and injections.  At some point over the last few years, I developed “Tarsal Tunnel” syndrome. If you haven’t heard of it, I’m not surprised, I had never heard of it either but let me tell you.  That shit hurts. Years of not running in the right shoes, hyper-pronating, not using orthotics and a totally different method of running post fracture lead to this. When you add to that annoying thing called AutoImmune Disease where everything is swollen and hurts and it makes for a miserable way to be.  

This week, I went to see Dr. Greg Clark from Jersey Shore Podiatrist Associates in Sea Girt.  He assesses my feet, states I’m doing a great job keeping my toes in line (I started to develop a bunion on my left foot in January.  GO GENETICS) and it looks like I caught them in time. He reviews what therapy I am doing on my feet and suggest some new ones. He pushes my instep and on the medial part of my ankle and I quickly retract in pain.  “Ok, it’s time for more injections. When is your race?” “The 9th. Oh My God, I just said that out loud. It’s coming!” Ladybug giggles. Dr. Clark says its perfect timing and sets me up. Then the manipulation and injecting a tuberculin syringe into the sheath of the nerves that are trapped and causing me to lose feeling in my feet.  This is miserable. I shudder. He says, “after everything your feet have been through, this is nothing” He is 1000 percent correct. He puts on my lovely little latex free bandaids, wishes me luck and sends me on my way. “Good LUCK! We are all rooting for you, we will see you when you get back!” Yes. YES YOU WILL.

I am TITANIUM.  Literally and figuratively.  

So after a minor pity party this morning during shift change, I got my shit together. I got a pep talk from Anna and Michelle my Medic Sherpa’s and started my day.  I have a 12 hour Medic shift and two wake ups before I leave and holy shit it's coming fast!!

I AM READY.  I WILL TRUST MY TRAINING.  I am, after all:  TITANIUM.

For those interested in following the incredible triathletes I will be sharing time with on Sunday, September 9th you can track each one of us through the Ironman Tracker app or on www.ironman.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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AltRed Ambassador!!

I have long been a huge proponent of exercising, eating clean and most importantly, eating properly for my autoimmune Disease.  I eat natural foods that help decrease the inflammation in my joints and help build up my immunity because, as a Paramedic I work around some pretty sick people.  

A few years ago, my Endocrinologist told me that when I juice, to juice beets as they are one of the best “super foods” you can consume.  They are loaded with anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties. What a mess to juice! On top of that, it goes everywhere, the smell can be a bit unsavory as well as they contain nitrates and some sugars.  

Having Hashimoto’s, there are certain things that when you eat them they become counter productive to thyroid health even making your medication only partially effective.  They are mercury, perchlorate and you guessed it, NITRATES.

About a month ago, I was reading one of my USA Triathlon magazines and came across an advertisement for AltRed. I actually read it and was immediately intrigued.  Beet betalains in a tablet?? DO TELL! I logged on the the web site and began fervently reading. The beauty of this product is they actually have the science to back up their claims.  Sur, the company behind AltRed took the best part of the Beet, the Phyto-nutrient and “unleashed” it from those nasty thyroid eating nitrates and the sugars. AltRed is naturally designed to increase your red blood cells.  This makes it easy for them to carry oxygen to your vital organs helping your endurance. What else? It helps to mitigate your lactic acid in your muscles to make it easier to go long distances without that terrible, “I’m starving for oxygen” burning feeling in your legs. This is what aids in quicker recovery times.

Does it really work?  Well. I bought a bottle, I followed the instructions and started.  On the second day, I noticed I had little to no fatigue on my run. Then, I noticed I had little to no recovery time after a three hour workout.  I figured it was a fluke, maybe I was just having a good day. (Having AID, there really is no such thing as a GOOD Day) I tried it every day for the next two weeks.  Not only did I not have any GI upset, but I had more endurance, my times improved and I had cut my recovery time by not minutes, but hours. This was not a fluke. This was the real deal.  Then I noticed something else. The inflammation in my hands and feet began to go away after the third week and haven’t come back. I am a month into using AltRed and I’m not looking back.  

My Birthday was August 23rd.  On that day, I was working the Medic truck and I got an email telling me I was invited to be an “AltRed Ambassador”.  I was over the moon. Being honest, forthright and sharing my story made me a good candidate they said. Basically, being ME.  Anyone who really knows me knows I don’t promote products or sell things. I just do my own thing. This time, however I am going to share my experience and trials with you and tell you this product is worth trying.  If you are interested in trying AltRed, click on the link and get 50 percent off of your first bottle. I’m sure you won’t ever look back once having tried it. I didn’t.

https://shop.sur.co/discount/TCONNELLAN-ALTRED

TCONNELLAN-ALTRED is my code.  

So, Now I will proudly be wearing the AltRed colors as I am now on team Alt Red!!  

T

 

 

 

 

 

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