Anything’s Possible.

As the orange moon begins to descend behind the red rock canyons, the sky becomes a pallet of red and yellow. “Athletes, please make your way to the swim start”, a voice booms. With green swim caps and black wet suits, an army of matching determined warriors make their way to the base of the water. Functioning off of 3 hours of sleep and a small bowl of fruit, I take a stand next to my comrade.  I take a moment to soak in my surroundings. I see thousands of determined faces. Everyone beside me has dedicated the better half of a year to this race. Blood sweat and tears. The day no one thought would come, has finally arrived.
“Athletes, please make your way into the water.” the announcer commands. With a deep exhale, Steve and I meet eyes as if to say, “let’s do what we came to do.” I clench a  tight fist and throw it toward Steve. He meets me half way and our knuckles bump. We make our way slowly into the bone cold water. 15 minutes go by of simply wading. For a moment, everything goes silent. I can hear the thumping of my heart beating violently in my chest.
 and then…
*BOOM*
the cannon explodes. Surging with energy, we swim. What started out as a calm still water, became a violent whirlpool of flailing arms and legs. blood began to flow from my lip, as a powerful leg smashed into my face. Impossible to maneuver. The water raged vigorously. Constant hands and arms hit my back, feet, and head…all I could do was deal with it.  Then, when I thought the worst was behind me, an old enemy returned. No one saw it coming. In an instant ferocious winds formed an infantry of gigantic waves that came barreling through the water. Everyone was being thrown back and forth, left and right, and off course.  This being my first open water swim, I didn’t know what level of difficulty this was. Later, I was told it was the toughest swim in the history of Ironman. I was having an absolute blast! “If it was easy, everyone would do it.” I road the waves up and down, smiling all the while. Often gulping down large quantities  of water, which caused me to gag and choke. Off to the right, I could see dozens of people hanging on to the rescue kayaks, clearly out of energy. Had the wind started before the race, the swim would have been canceled no doubt.
After about 2 miles, I was done having fun and was ready to reach the finish. I was becoming dizzy and making slow progress as the massive white caps forced me backwards. Finally, the finish was in sight, and I cut through the raging water with all my might. “Show them what your made of.”After 1 hour and 45 minutes of fighting,  I climbed up onto solid ground and nearly fell over. I was extremely dizzy, everything was blurry for a moment. The crowed was booming and smiles filled my sights. I stumbled over  to the wet suit strippers and laid down. That’s when I noticed my tracking chip had been knocked off. I knew someone had pulled  it off in the chaotic blue water. “If you lost your tracking chip, you can pick one up at the ‘bike out’ I heard announced. Hundreds of people didn’t complete the swim course. Disqualified. I got my chip, got my bike, and busted a move.
It all happened in an instant. My body didn’t have time to adjust to the bicycle. The first 5 miles were treacherous trying to adapt, but soon enough I became one with my carbon fiber chariot. Finally, I was able to think well enough to come up with a plan. “Remember, save your strength for the run”, I thought to myself as I cruised passed another cyclist. I cut through the first 20 miles of hills with ease. “Ahead is an aid station” a man shouted as I passed by. In the distance I could see dozens of people lined up along the side of the road with extended arms. As I got closer, I realized they were handing out nutrition. I was riding with only one water bottle cage, because my other ones didn’t fit. This put me at a large disadvantage. I knew I had to get as much water as possible. “Perform! GU! Banana! Water!”, the volunteers shouted. I grabbed a water bottle and a banana from their helping hands and kept on cruising. The bananas were cut in half to make them easier to consume. With the cap of the water bottle pinned between my teeth, I used one hand to steer and the other to pinch the banana out of it’s peel. That golden treat disappeared in a single bite. I then chugged the entire bottle of water and tossed it to a volunteer. The sweat dripping down my hand caused me to slip off the handle bar. I became dangerously close to going off road, but I regained control and made it a point to just get to the next aid station. Now, about 30 miles in, I was approaching the scenic 2 loop portion of the course. AKA: the hard part. The first loop was gnarly. The suns rays beat down like a fire on my tender skin. The relentless uphills and powerful headwind caused agonizing pain. “Just keep moving forward.” 15 miles later, I reached the next aid station. This time, I had to stop and relieve myself of bodily fluid. “BIKE UP!” the volunteers shouted as they took my bike from me with a  smile. “Need me to get you anything!?” I was so amazed by the willingness to help from all the volunteers. Constantly trying to aid in anyway with encouragement.  Once my bladder was empty, I filled the single bottle attached to my frame and chugged the remainder liquid. OFF I GO!
After a series of towering hills, came the toughest one of all. It’s nickname: The Wall. This is a mile steep rock face. I remembered taking this beast down in training, so I was prepared. I lifted off my seat and began to pedal hard. The taste of salt filled my mouth as sweat streaked down my face. Gritting my teeth, I began my acsent! I passed every single cylist in front of me. “That’s the way!” I heard a pro athlete shout to me as I passed him. Everything in my being wanted to stop…but I knew I couldn’t. “You rock the bike!” another athlete exclaimed searching for breath. These words of encouragement carried me the rest of the way. Once I reached the top, I was in for a break. After one more long uphill, I would have a 15 mile stretch of pure downhill relaxation. I pedaled fast through the canyons topping out at 50 mph. Still, the pros blew right past me. I was in the highest and toughest gear and couldn’t accelerate. I didn’t understand how they were. Finally, I reached another aid station and poured the water down my back. I took out some gu I was storing in the back pockets of my tri suit and gulped them down. The 1st loop was done, one more to go. “How am I ever going to do this?” I began to doubt myself. The heat and wind really began taking a toll on my brain. It was fried and I was dizzy. “Just keep pedaling.” the second loop consisted of less wind and lots of bananas! The time came when I reached “the wall” again. “I’m going to walk this time…and I’m going to be okay with that” I thought to myself. However, by the time I got to the base of the rock, I changed my mind. “Go big or go home!” As I cruised up the hill even faster than before I heard many athletes praising me once again…which was so uplifting. “Holy Sh**!”  About 600 feet from the top, I pulled off to the side. The cyclist I had just passed encouraged me, “Don’t stop! Keep going!” …It worked.
I powerhoused the last 17 miles and finally came to “Bike Finish” I stumbled off the bike and found my way into the changing tent to gear up for the run.
I sat there, on the verge of vomiting, and wondered how I was going to finish this race. All the naked old dudes changing around me certainly didn’t help my nausea. I poured several cups of ice water down my neck, for just a moment of refreshment. I dropped my head into my knees. I thought of what life would be like after the race if I failed . How could I let all my friends, family, IronMan Company, and most importantly myself down? That’s when I lifted my head, tied my shoes, stood up, and marched out into an ocean of smiling, cheering, raging spectators. It all happened in slow motion. “Failure is not an option. Push that envelope.” I knew I didn’t have to do it fast, but I DID have to do it.
Jason: You know what they call the last man to cross the finish line?
Me: What?
Jason: An Ironman.
Blinded by cameras flashing in my face, I walked through the running shoot. “Let’s go Taylor! Looking great!” I heard a voice shout. That’s when I began my slow jog. My stomach churned and my head spun wildly. I barely held my balance. “God, I know I’ve done a lot of wrong in your eyes in this life. I know I don’t deserve to beat this, but please give me just enough strength to finish this.” I pushed foreword.
“Perform! Gu! Ice Water! Wet Sponge! Pretzels! Fruit!” Thank the Lord for those aid stations. I emptied several ice waters on my face, had a few grapes, and pressed on. It was about this time that my heartburn began. “Great…this is the last thing I need.” I began to stumble and slowed to a power walk.
It was at this moment that I met the man who carried me the last 20 miles. His name is Jason. He’s a father of 5, and this was his third St. George Ironman. He’s a true inspiration. The previous year he walked the last 22 miles of the marathon due to heat stroke and a sour stomach. He was feeling lousy again, and we agreed to tackle these last 20 miles together. The hours ticked slowly by. Jason kept my spirits high and promised me we would make it to the end. “Pain is temporary. To finish is forever” The sun fell behind the mountains, and the brightest full moon of the year lit up the course. A few times I heard “Trailing The Sun” shouted at me followed by words of encouragement. It certainly helped. “Looking great!”

The hours ticked slowly on. The heartburn didn’t let up, the dizziness got worse, the churning in my stomach became chaotic. If I stood still, I couldn’t see straight. However, Jason and the rest of the spectators kept my spirits high.
Me: Hey man, it’s swim, bike, run… it’s not Swim, Bike, Run, Walk… is this really going to count?
Jason: Listen, when your body is falling apart and you have every reason to quit, and you keep moving forward you’ll have truly earned it. That’s true strength.
With one hour to midnight and still 3 miles from the finish, the pressure was on. Under other circumstances, I could bang out those miles in 20 minutes easy…but not now. Not when I was moving at 4 miles an hour and falling apart fast. We kept moving forward and made  a couple friends along the way who were also burnt out. We encouraged each other the whole way.
Then, I saw the 25 mile marker…Something inside me ignited. The last 4 and a half months flashed through my memory. leaving home a naive kid, and ending up here a man.  I felt the iron begin to pulse through my veins.  Jason reached out his hand and I grabbed hold. “Let’s finish this thing like real IronMen”, I said. “You got it” Jason and I turned on full speed and I ignored my feet littered with blisters, I ignored my melting brain, and ran toward the sound of the crowd. Before I knew it, I cut the corner and saw the flashing of hundreds of cameras and the cheerful faces of thousands. I extended my arms and slapped hands with dozens of raging fans. I raised my fists to heaven with the biggest smile anyone could make. As I crossed that line, my body exploded with iron. It was over. I did it…at long last. I defeated the toughest IronMan course of all time.
Thank you Jason…thanks for it all!
Thank you Jesus. Thank you for it all.

The Last Battle of a Climactic Ending.

124 days ago with shorter hair, lighter skin, and fresh clothes free of rips and tears, we left our humble homes in Sutton Massachusetts. Over the last four months Steve and I have waged war against our simple suburban lifestyle. Heat, Wind, Rain, Snow, Hunger, Thirst, and exhaustion are all foes we have had to face.We’ve conquered every conflict…except one. As this journey ends, we approach the last battle. The climatic ending to this cross country epic. The battle that determines the outcome of this war. The Ironman. However, this isn’t just any ironman. This is the toughest the world has ever seen. So tough, that this is the last year St George will host one. Steve and I will make history. I am the 9th youngest male competing in this race. The only thing standing between me and the finish line is 140.6 miles of physical agony. I’m determined to finish. I will use all the mental strength I have gained on this trip as a lethal weapon to this race. I will not lose. It’s gonna be one heck of a good time!

 

My first road race was the Boston Marathon, my first bike trip was 4,000 miles across the country, and my first triathlon will be the St. George Ironman. Go big or go home.

 

 

With God at my side, there is no way I will fail.

 

Stay tuned for an after race post! Send prayers and positivity our way!

 

God bless,

 

Taylor Thibodeau: future iron man.

The Race is Upon Us

Tomorrow is the last day standing between Taylor and I and the race. We are excited. Getting everything squared away beforehand has proven to be a challenge, and as such, hearing the gun go off will be a relief in itself.

One interesting puzzle we’ve been facing as of late is the inability to use bicycle transportation in the days leading up to the race, as we may need those muscles later. Finding transportation is a mystery yet to be solved. Of course, if it comes down to that, I will ride where I need to!

Here is my hand posing with the official Ironman wristband.

Other than the few remaining technical logistics, I need to take care of the food I will be eating for the race. Ironman has 5 bags that you fill (bike gear, run gear, morning clothes, etc) and they will supply them at different points throughout the race. It seems simple, but it’s not. Little known fact; brain function decreases roughly 80 Percent in the days leading up to an Ironman.

So I’ll be scrambling around for the next 48 hours!

cheers,
Steve

I Can Go The Distance!

With arms raised high and a look of shock and excitement, she jumps in front of my bike. I quickly veer left and pull firmly on the breaks. The old soft very very weak breaks I might add. She says something with a smile, but I can’t tell what. I turn my head around and smile back, “what was that?” I ask.

She pulls out her headphones… “I know you!”, she exclaims. “You’re from Trailing The Sun! You’re doing the Ironman. I added you on Facebook.”

I am now in a state of shock myself. I feel like a rock star. I’ve been recognized!

After our encounter, Erin Harding, the young vampire weekend-listening mom, went on to finish her 50k (31 mile run) 

With one hand steering, I brush my hair back and readjust my earbuds. Pressing firmly and twisting until snug. I am now 30 miles into the toughest ironman course ever created. The majority of this course has been a gradual incline. I reach down and grab one of my two water bottles. Before I take a sip, I know by now the sun has surly had its way with my water. At 95 degrees in direct sunlight, it doesn’t take long for ice to melt and water to become stale. “Yup. Gross…gross, but necessary.” As I move, I find it difficult to keep my eyes on the road. Instead I place my vision to my surroundings. The red rock canyons cannot be compared to anything else. I lose myself staring at the bright orange menacing formations. I am an ant in a big big world. As I make a winding turn, I am presented with a  great challenge.

Ahead of me is a mile long accent up a winding cliff. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”I think as I increase the volume on my iPod. “Good song” Beads of sweat roll down my cheeks collecting filth as they plummet to the tar. As I drop my head forward droplets fall into my sunglasses slightly impairing my vision. More of an extreme annoyance than a real hinderance. I take notice of my thighs as they tense up and enlarge while I press my feet down on rusted pedals. As I make my way up, I remind myself of all the other climbs I’ve made on this trip. I have never once gotten off my bicycle to walk up a steep incline. Never once. “I certainly won’t do that now!” I shift my gears. click. click. click. click. Four times. I hear the chain shifting. Clank. Clank. It gets stuck for a moment, but eventually corrects itself. I’m panting heavily as I raise myself off the seat to get a more efficient climb. Slow going. “This is harder than the big climb in Steamboat Springs”, I thought to myself. This was possibly the toughest climb I’d ever done. I’d have to do it twice if I wanted to be a made of iron. “I should have taken a longer sip”

Finally, after much exhaustion, I reached the top. Steve had done the course the day before and had informed me that there was a food mart not to far after the FIRST big climb. As I raised my bottle to my lips, I took a big gulp of warm water. “I need a cold gatorade.”

A couple miles later, I was inside an air conditioned food mart. While here, I talked with many other ironman competitors as they were training on the course as well. I also had a lovely conversation with my wonderful mother!

The smile left my face as I pressed my thumb and fore finger against my back tire. “No…not now!” Sure enough, I had severe flat tire. Just ahead of me was another mile long climb. “This is going to be fun.”

I spent the rest of the brutally hot day fishtailing and swerving my way home. I did make it though. SUCCESS!

I stumble into the house and fall on the couch. I press my finger against my red arm. As I pull away, I see a pale white fingertip-sized mark return to lobster red. The suns rays burn hot  here in Santa Clara.

____________________________________________________________________________

Things are all beginning to come together.

1)My tri suit and new helmet came in today.

2)Aquasphere hooked us up with some excellent free wetsuits which we will receive in a few days.

3)Steve’s Uncle Ben is shipping me his exctremely gnarly time trial bike to ride.

4) I bought new shoes.

 I suppose that is all I have time for at this moment. Stay tuned for a post about Jordan and Avalon. They have been allowing us to stay with them and are really great. We’ve had some super cool times with them…
“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams”-John Barrymore
I encourage you to pursue your dreams as I have. When all is done and white has taken over my head, I will look into the mirror with aged eyes and say, “I dreamt it & I did it!” How about you?
God has blessed my life.
Sincerely your friend,
Taylor

S.W.I.I.M.A

For those of you sounding out that wonderful acronym above, it is pronounced the same as swimmer, but  with a strong new england accent (SWIM-AH). 

For those of you who have a natural disposition for perfect pronunciation and moved on only to be foiled by the meaning of the acronym, I will gladly reveal it. S.W.I.I.M.A is none other than:

Steve’s Wicked Important IronMan Advice

This will be an ongoing series of tips and hints that I accrue leading up to (and following) Ironman St. George. Of course, these tips will be made to apply not just to this race, but any endurance event you may lay your registration upon. 

Without further a due: 

Image

1. Oreo cookies are NOT a feasible substitute for proper race/training nutrition.

This tip is especially important, and I can speak from recent experience. I, one known often as the ‘Steel Stomach’ or the holder of ‘Incorruptible Intestines,’ was easily foiled by this horrendous ploy. Of course, it is commonly known that those training for triathlons commonly ingest an oozy post-nuclear substance known affectionately as Goo. 

That (surprisingly as it seems) is a much better idea than the oreos. 

2. Avoid this: 

Image

 I tried my best, but got hit with a great dowsing of it.. Alas! One of the great downfalls of bicycle travel lies not in the bicycle itself but its relationship with the premier transportation machine. 

3. Embrace those around you who you share an interest with!! 

Come on.. Unless you live in Amsterdam, or a few other select bicycle havens, it is not too much work to acknowledge fellow pedal pushers around you! Of course, it is completely acceptable to be in so deep a zone that you acquire what is known as ‘tunnel vision,’ thereby missing your counterparts.  

The other side can be quite uplifting, however! Try this guy out, for example.

Image

 Well, That is about all I have for you for now. Yes, today’s 3 tips are quite heavy on the bicycle section. But they still apply to all three disciplines (maybe not so much swimming, unless you are creative) and even to life itself! 

I hope you enjoyed the advice. I hope you can apply it when you get off the computer today to go outside and ride! I am sure that will be happening soon, right? Oh, it’s too cold out? You are tired? You have plans? I understand. That’s why you are reading this blog. Well at least go on a walk or something. 

See you soon with some real life updates about my life and training! 

-Steve

 

 

Photo Catch Up!

Leave it to Steve and Taylor to sign up for the worlds toughest Ironman. St. George is home to the triathlon with the lowest percentage of finishers. This is sure to be a gnarly experience!

While we train, you should enjoy the photos below!

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Ironman is fast approaching

Here I am with a long awaited update and insight into the lives of your two favorite bicycle toting travelers. 

Our travels have been speckled with hitchhiking rides across long expanses, bicycle rides through the most varied scenic passes, and the occasional sojourn with newly forged acquaintances along the way. 

I suppose the story continued as we left the door of Eric Allred’s garage. Route 10 southbound became our gravitational stopper as we headed down slopes towards our eventual destination camping spot for the night. The day’s ride held a twist. Taylor regarded the tailwind and elevation drop as promising, and he accordingly went out with quite the gusto and speed. A different viewpoint was planned for me, however. Most of the morning was spent struggling to keep my significantly weighty bicycle at level with Taylor’s brisk pace. This did not prove very successful, and I had to watch from afar as he signaled the companion he thought was directly behind him. My hard work to keep up left me with an empty stomach and a need for some A/C. Eventually, lunchtime came into play and I opted to splurge on a 14″ Large pepperoni pizza, with an accompanying 12″ breadstick round. By the end of it all, there remained only 2 pieces of pizza and 2 end breadsticks. Taylor made the conservative (and smart) decision of eating his own food. 

The two of us hopped back on the bikes, and I was in for more demoralizing miles as I struggled beside the coal trucks. Luckily, the difficulty was broken up with the inevitable views of the Utah landscape. I will let taylor’s pictures speak to that, as a median between the imagery I would attempt and the ability to actually be there and see them! Anyway, we continued on to the last small town before we would reach Interstate 70. We went into Randy’s general store and found from the friendly clerk, Mary Lynne, that it would be fine to use the rest area across the road to camp for the night. She didn’t let us get away with just that, and she insisted on buying us a snack and drink a-piece as her good deed for the day. 

Taylor and I settled in and I informed him that I would like to take the next day as rest, so as to send back some weight that was holding me down. As the night fell, we found that Mary Lynne’s kindness was not soon to end. She had brought us hot chocolate! 

Upon waking, we found breakfast waiting as well. The kindness we were shown is heartwarming indeed. The two of us went through our bags to send things home, and we got quite a bit out on the way to MA. The post man, Randy, expects a post card from MA when we return home, and this will hopefully serve as a reminder for me! Our activity for the day was a climb of a nearby rock formation that resulted in stunning views as well as some interesting finds. Taylor gained a unique cone shaped rock to add to his necklace, while I found a small geode and a piece of amber (petrified sap). We returned down and back to home camp before dark. At that point, Mary Lynne’s family extended even MORE kindness and we were invited to a wonderful dinner at their home. We found the company and the food to be first rate. 

The following morning, we packed up and headed out, feeling well rested, well filled, and light on the bikes. We made it to the Interstate, and off we went, west across another mountain range. Confidence was in us both that day, and we climbed from under 5000 feet to nearly 8000 feet without a single problem, and averaging quite a speed the whole way. Our efforts gleaned quite a reward, and we then coasted down the mountain ridge for almost 20 miles, at which point we stopped for lunch. The day was going well, and despite our successes, we decided to try a new method of travel: Hitch-biking. 

The idea was to hitchhike, but with our bicycles and gear with us. Not complicated at all. But who would pick up two guys so heavily laden with gear? Apparently, a lot of people would. We gained a ride within a few minutes, and met a truly kind guy who was on his way home from Moab. He brought us to Interstate 15. We were making serious headway for the day. Our goal became St. George by nightfall! We secured a ride again with a father and son on their way to Las Vegas for a car show; George and George. Coincidence? I think not. Their willingness to help others led them to stop again for a stranded hot rod, and we gained 2 more to our troupe. Their car was having some trouble, but we made it into St. George as the sun fell behind the red rocks, and the moon rose behind the same on the opposite side. 

A cheap motel for the night was in line, and we chose the Sands. This motel will come into play in the future as well. 

It was roughly at this time that Taylor informed me I once told him on the trip that I owed him a favor, and he chose to realign us toward Los Angeles. His yearning to see the pacific coast remained strong, and I had no choice but to oblige. Of course, when put that way, it seems as if I did not like the prospect, when contrarily, I quite looked forward to it, and besides, we had plenty of time before we needed to settle down in St. George for training. 

The road was reserved for a bit more hitch-biking, and we had an easy time of it, until Las Vegas. We again made it our goal to arrive at our destination by nightfall, and we were now hard pressed to get a ride on the outskirts of Sin CIty. I was led to believe it was because of the outgoing traffic’s poor prospects at the casinos that they did not want to pick us up. That did not affect one driver, however, and we saw a small car stop behind us on the entrance ramp to  the interstate. A well dressed girl roughly our age stepped out into the wind and greeted us merrily. We chatted for a bit, and all came to the decision that despite the size of the car, it would be worth and effort to attempt securing them in the trunk, as Nicky was also headed to L.A. 

All was successful, and we jumped in the car. soon enough, we were 3 pals on a road trip, and we enjoyed the time well with good music and a stop at In + Out Burger. The time eventually came when we departed and she dropped us off in West Hollywood, where we were graciously offered room to stay with Joey Fiore and Bart Walsh. Good times were had, and we also got to see quite a bit of the surrounding area. Taylor and I rode down to Santa Monica beach, taking a detour through the Hollywood and Beverly Hills. The houses were grand, the cars were flashy, and the whole world around us was a beautiful, varied garden. The smelling was wonderful! We eventually got to the beach and trudged our way through the sand to place our bicycles in the great Pacific! 

Later, we reunited with Nicky, and met her friend, Dana. The four of us instantly went off for some adventure, and on queue was a night hike to the Hollywood sign itself, and the Griffith Observatory. We saw a few coyotes passing through the quite neighborhood on the way to the observatory. After all, the four of us became peas in a pod, and we had many a good time. We were soon graciously invited to Nicky’s family’s easter dinner, and they let us crash on the couch at Nicky’s house the night before. We had a fun ride with stops at a hotel bonfire and a flock of flamingos, the site for the upcoming Coachella Fest, and a particularly flashy casino/hotel. Eventually, the night ended and I alone stayed up to cry my eyes out while watching the movie 50/50. I highly recommend it, but don’t forget to bring tissues.

Easter the next day was quite and affair, and we enjoyed company of the whole exciting extended family of Nicky, particularly some of her younger relatives during a rousing game of pickup basketball. We made our way back to Joey’s place, and we all said our final farewells. Taylor and I left the following morning en route back to St. George.

As we discussed places to stay for the night, Taylor talked briefly on the phone with Nicky. She informed us that her grandmother, Jeanne, may have some extra beds for us. Jeanne fondly refers to us and many others as her ‘idiots.’ We were gladly part of the group, and Nicky and Dana even paid a visit to the house later on, albeit only briefly. We said our goodbyes again, enjoyed warm beds, and took up Grandma Parks’s offer to drive us a bit of the way back toward St. george! When we were dropped off, we braved the hot Mojave Desert (yes, even in april), passed through Las Vegas again, and camped at a large truck stop/gas station area for the night. I slept only with my sleeping bag and mat, and the starry sky as my tent. We continued down the road, and eventually picked up a last ride to St. George. (It should be noted that our travels now include over 4000 miles of cycling, 1700 miles of bus transportation, and now almost 1000 miles of hitchhiking! We have gained some travel experience, you could say.)

We then met a refrain of the previous visit to our penultimate destination, and stayed at the same Sands motel as last time in St. George. Again, the room was a nice rest. We stopped in at a cool cafe, the Bean Scene, and struck up a conversation with Christina, a musician in town. She said she might know a place for us to pitch our tents, and soon we showed up at the door of Avalon and Jordan! The two have been gracious hosts as well as good new friends. Taylor and I have been relaxing a bit in the area and preparing all the last things for our race! It is in 19 days now, and we are looking forward to it with overflowing excitement! 

Our travels are nearly done, with just the way back to Las Vegas for our flight remaining. All we have now is the race.

Thanks for reading, We will both be on more frequently now with training updates and posts pertaining to Ironman St George!!! 

-Steve