#imcda

I envisioned, during many training runs this season, nailing the last several miles of my marathon at Ironman Coeur d’Alene (IMCDA) 2015. In six prior IMs I have not negative split my marathon, or thrown down a faster mile at the end compared to the start of the run. So, before signing up for my 7th IM, I researched options and chose a cool-weather race in June - IMCDA - with historical highs in the mid-70s.  A runners race!

Now, as irony has it, the weather forecast a couple weeks before the race, pegged it at record-setting high temps.  Weather.com, at one point, had temps rising to 108.

Mental and physical race strategy transformation quickly began to happen. I knew for sure my Blue Seventy neoprene swim cap was now useless for fighting off the usual mid-50-degree water temps. The water temps were already in the low 70s. But, other strategies like hydration, nutrition, heart rate versus power, and managing body temperature became a much more preparation-in-motion priority, especially with my history on racing in the heat.

How could I forget the bonk at IM Louisville in 2012 at mile 14 on the run due to heat?  How about sun's intense rays at Buffalo Springs 70.3 in 2013 as it sucked the life out my pores? And for extra validity, IM Texas in 2014, when I almost came to tears when I felt weights collecting on the soles of my shoes every mile through the last 13.1 of the run.

IMCDA 2015 - my cool-weather race - shaped up to be one of the hottest IM races in history.

Liz, my wife and best sherpa ever, sat beside me under a tree asking if I was okay. The grass felt like a soft cool mattress. The leaves on the tree's branches blocked the sun's rays making it feel like air conditioning.  I was lying on my back in a dead man's pose. Minutes ago I crossed the finish line of IMCDA.

Keys to success were:

Coaching and Consistency: Nailing 98% of Coach Michelle Simmons (Coach M) plan since December leading up to race day.

Relaxed passion: Shed all negative anxiety; only focused on positive outcomes. Was well rested going into race day.

Nutrition: Osmo leading up to race day and during race day. Bonk Breaker bars, Picky Bars and gels. Consistent approach on nutrition during race compared to training. Slight modification on quantity of fluids, and how I consumed solids due to heat. Did not take one salt tab; huge believer in Osmo.

Beet-It Juice: Consumed every day 6 weeks before race day.

Race Plan: A detailed race plan that includes everything I do and how I will do it starting when my alarm goes off race-day morning. Coach M and I tweaked until final approval. The holy grail of my IM race.

Heat management strategies: Ben Hoffman provides key heat-management tips simply by focusing in on what he's wearing during IM Kona 2014. Easy to learn from people who have already conquered the heat.

Confidence: My confidence sucks when I race. I thought it was good. There's a difference between a confident 'I can do this' approach, and 'I will do this' killer instinct. Fortunately a couple of my friends, and Kona qualifiers, Jason Newland and Mike Malfer, finally convinced me that my mental approach sucked and I needed to change it. I wrote down a mental killer mantra (a little out of my comfort zone), and it felt good. It changed my approach on race day. They were right. 

Mental toughness: A ton of grit - literally blocking out all distractions and anything not positive.

Focus and poise: Never losing my shit, and closely listening to my body every second of the race.

Race Day:

I lined up with the 1:00 to 1:05 swimmers at the back of this pack. My strategy was to draft off feet. I knew I could save watts and emerge from the water by 1:05 or faster by drafting and surging on these faster swimmers. 

The water was crystal clear making it super easy to find feet. Coach M gave me swim sets to practice bursts in the water simulating a surge to catch someone's feet to draft. This practice paid off big-time. Several times I pulled off a draft to make sure the person in front of me was not slowing, and each time I did this it was easy to see we were swimming similar speeds, and I felt my muscles working harder, a.k.a. shedding extra watts. It was an easy decision to fall back in a draft, and I did so using several different swimmers during the 2.4 miles. One swimmer pulled me through the entire first loop!

Swim - 1:04:26

*36th out of the water in ag, 210th male, and 254th overall.

**Crazy athlete note... A female swimmer on our first loop and second turn back toward the beach, literally stopped to tread water with her head sticking up like a vertical bobber. Her bobber head was perfectly aligned with my swinging left swim arm. **Now, this is a race, and everybody around me is moving forward in a pack. It's one of the coolest things to be a part of if you are accepted, and acceptance is allowed if you flow with it at similar speeds.** The human bobber did not flow with it. The human bobber received an incredible blow and elbow lock to the back of her head from my swinging left swim arm. I tried to shed her off quickly after the blow, but the momentum took her with me. I was surprised how I carried her head with me for a moment. Her fight ended after her face slammed into the water allowing her bobber head from being a part of my swim. Moments later I hear her scream, "Hey, assssss-hoooooole!" I so badly wanted to holler back "Welcome to Ironman!"** 

Running with my T1 bag in hand I heard Liz yell, "You PRed the swim!" In the T1 tent I sat down and asked a volunteer to put my two zip-lock bags of nutrition in my back jersey pockets. I quickly slipped on my bike shoes and sunglasses. My $20 pair of Oakley's have survived every IM.  All rubber pads are missing and one plastic temple piece shows German Shorthair teeth impressions. They are bad-ass, and look kind of crusty and out-of-date. I stood up to run out while slipping on my helmet, but realized I didn't have my zip-lock bags of nutrition in my back pockets. I turned and asked the volunteer about my baggies of nutrition. He pointed to my T1 bag. He put them back in my T1 bag!  No need to fuss, although I probably looked a little perplexed. I know the volunteers feel pressure too, so I reached into my T1 bag and grabbed the two zip locks and stuffed them into my back pockets while running to my bike.

Oh, yeah, before I ran out of T1 I slammed down a 12 oz pre-Osmo and Active Osmo mix. This was money! 

T1: 3:35

**Our sport is so foreign to most of the volunteers, and they do such a great job.  They are out there cooking themselves in the heat helping us with our selfish sport. They don't have to do it. The oldest volunteer was an 85-year old lady who stood outside in the heat all day helping athletes.** 

The bike course was brutal.  It was the hardest bike course i have experienced in a race, and that includes comparing it to IM Wisconsin, which I have completed three times. I refused to let it get in my head.  I don’t know how many times I said “shut up legs!”  The only part of the race I look back and regret is my last hour on the bike. It really pisses me off when I analyze the data.  But, when I place myself in that moment, my hr was rising, and my power was slightly falling (it was taking more effort to keep up my power).  My goal was to run fast the last several miles of the marathon, so I kept my poise. Yes, there is a little regret looking back as I write this blog in an air conditioned room.

The second loop of that bike course highlighted by a blue-bird sky and sun threw down temperatures that set records. According to the National Weather Service it was the hottest day on record since August 4, 1961. On the bike a few challenges athletes experienced was extreme heat, nearly 6,000 feet of climb, no clouds, lava black road, hills that seem to never quite with one at a 6% grade for nearly 1 and 2-mile grades that we hit twice during the two-loop course, and warm water at aid stations. I am sure other athletes could add a hundred other challenges to this list including a lot of flat tires and few bike crashes.  

I carried two 24-oz bottles on my Cervelo P5. I consumed 10-12 24-oz bottles of Osmo. I can’t remember the exact number, but it was slightly more than two bottles per hour (200 calories/hour). I ate close to a full Bonk Breaker, or Peaky bar, and gel every hour (approximately 300 calories/hour). I did not force anything, and consumed small doses of everything. There were a couple times my stomach felt woozy for about 10 minutes.  Both times it happened I stopped eating.  After about 5-10 minutes when my stomach calmed I slowly consumed calories with very small mouse-like portions. My stomach recovered fine each time. I took a sip of Osmo about every 3 minutes.  Lastly, I did not stop at the half-way point to grab anything from my Special Needs bag.

At every aide station on the bike I grabbed a water and filled one 24-oz bottle with Osmo on my bike below my seat, and then grabbed a second water and completely doused it all over my body. The coolness from the water and wind lasted only for minutes after each aid station, but it was just enough to immediately give my legs power again. I imagine this is what doping feels like. My doping was 100% clear H2O that provided a liberating cool feeling for several minutes. I peed myself 3-4 times leaving my mark on the black-top road in places on highway 95. I saved one for someone who was drafting a little too close in a no-pass zone.

I have been training with power for more than a year. This was my 3rd IM riding with power. Because of the heat and the long ascends and descends my focus began to shift more to hr than power. Again, my goal was to run fast the last several miles, and with that thought branded in my head for this race I sacrificed power in the last hour of my ride. Looking at my power data really pisses me off.  

First 2:30 my avg normalized power was 204.2, avg hr 147.6, avg cadence 77.

Second 2:30 my avg normalized power was 195.2, avg hr 145.2, avg cadence 75.6. 

My last 30′ my avg normalized power was 182, avg hr 139, avg cadence 70.

These are KEY stats. This is not how Coach M taught me to ride. I responded well on the run with these stats, but I need to average 204-210 through 112 miles. My cadence needs to bump up to avg at least 82-85. My heart rate above 145 for 112 miles was a lingering concern when I put myself back on that bike during the race in real-time. I thought my sweet spot was an avg of 143-144 hr according to many training miles outside and on an indoor trainer.  

Two silver linings come out of these stats. The first is I can average 204+ normalized power on my bike with my current fitness through 112 miles now that I know my avg hr can be in the higher 140s without sacrificing my run. The second is I know with more time on my bike I will increase my FTP (functional threshold power) giving me more watts.        

Bike - 5:33:39

26th off my bike in ag, 131st male, 148th overall.

T2 was a simple routine... dismount bike, hand off bike to volunteer, receive T2-bag hand-off from volunteer, run into changing tent, remove bike shoes and helmet, put on socks and shoes, strap on Fuel Belt, strap on race belt with bib #, place on hat, slipped on arm coolers to my wrist, grabbed cotton cloth for neck, slammed down on bottle of Beet-It Juice and ran out of the tent.

T2: 3:10

**Flashback to IM Louisville 2012: Running out of T2 an athlete zoomed by me, and said, “see you at the finish line.” I let it in my head. My pace sub-consciously increased. “Stupid is as stupid does,” says Forest Gump. I realized how stupid it was at mile 14 when I started walking. To pour salt into the wound, soon after I started my death march a guy dressed up as Forest Gump passed me. He had the beard, the hat, the pants and shoes. At each aid station I submerged my head in ice water for as long as I could hold my breath just thinking how awful this dream was, and hoped I would awake. After lifting my head out of the ice water, wouldn’t you know it, there was Gump. I then passed him on my survival jog, and he would eventually pass me. This tug of war went on until I went through the finishers shoot. I heard spectators say, “Oh my gosh! Look, there is Forest Gump!” It was utterly humiliating. Fortunately, when we arrived at the turn for the 2nd loop I went to the finish line (I was on my second loop) and Gump turned.  He had one more loop!  Thank God.**

Running out of T2 at IMCDA brought back the IM Louisville Gump memory. An athlete zoomed by me (douchebag). It was like he was in a 5k race. His form was completely opposite of IM running idle Mirinda Carfrae (Rinny). His write and left hands were swinging and punching at something invisible, and his feet were moving wildly up and down. It looked like someone running downhill prepared to jump in a lake at any moment. Unfortunately for him we were running slightly uphill, and this was the first several hundred yards of a marathon with temps being measured on the race course above 110 degrees. Maybe douchebag just wanted the misery to end sooner than later. No doubt he received a DNF sooner than most on the run course.

I ran slower my first mile than any other IM. It was my plan, and it was pain-staking hard to execute because mentally it doesn’t feel natural. I distracted my mind from douchebag, and the spectators yelling, by going through my checklist: Small steps, gently unroll arm coolers up to my shoulders, tie cotton cloth around my neck, pull my hat’s neck-flap under my cotton neck-cloth, adjust Fuel Belt and wet my entire body with water especially arm coolers and cotton neck-cloth on my neck and hat. Any and all water on my body felt like magic!

At about mile two I found zip-lock bags of ice. I took one and placed under my hat. It was perfect timing! I immediately felt the cooling effect. My arm coolers were working like magic, and so was my cotton neck-cloth.  

My strategy on the run was hydration with Osmo and Coke; body temp control by keeping as much sun off my skin; ice down my pants, jersey, under my hat and in the palms of my hands; and staying drenched with water keeping my arm coolers and cloth around my neck wet.

When I left T2 I had two 8 oz bottles of Osmo water mix, and two 8 oz bottles of Osmo powder only, on my Fuel Belt.  Four Power Gels were in my pouch, and one in my hand.  During my run, I consumed a total of eight 8-oz bottles of Osmo water mix and consumed five Power Gels.  

A man on a bike slowly pulled up beside me somewhere near mile six. He rode beside me for about a quarter mile until I finally realized he was pacing a pro. Jokingly I finally asked him if he was pacing me. He caught the joke, and said, “It seems that way. You are running at an incredible pace in this heat. I’m pacing the second place male, Callum Millward from New Zealand.”  Eventually Millward slowly went by my left side. Wow, what a confidence booster! I felt a rush of excitement and noticed my pacing quickly increasing to under 7′ miles. My voice of reason quickly reminded me not to be stupid and blow up the second half of this marathon. I pulled back and settled into my pace, and collected my focus.

**Seeing pro athletes on the same race course is such a cool feeling. It’s like a golf fanatic who may have a chance to play a round with the pros. The experience is something surreal and unforgettable. To actually run with a top pro in a race for a bit is something I will never forget. His overall average pace was much better than mine, but I was taking advantage of the descends, and we were on a very long descend together. It was perfect timing for me to be able to run with Millward for a bit.**

At the 13.1 mile turn-around I felt fresh.  At mile 15 Liz was yelling “you look awesome!” 

I told her (ear-muffs kids), “This is my f’ing race.  I feel great, and I’m f’ing keeping this pace!”

Once I ran through mile 15 I knew this was a special day. Finally I masked over all past race issues with solutions that were working. I had obviously put together a successful plan, and it was working.  Only dueschebag had passed me and I’m sure he was resting quietly in a medical tent replaying his quick start on the marathon. I was zooming by everyone. At one moment I started to get choked up because I knew I was running my way to a Kona slot. And I specifically remember at that moment I cut out the non-sense and said to myself you better f’ing focus - don’t be stupid!

With 5 miles left I started focusing on increasing my pace a bit.  And with two miles to go I threw caution into the wind.  My wife was out there at that point and I heard her yelling, “Go! You gotta go! You gotta go!!”

With a mile left I passed a female pro. I could feel her surge onto my heels for a bit. And with a half-mile left in the race she passed me. At that point she was truly the leader I desperately needed on the course. I surged onto her heals and we flew by everyone. With less than a quarter mile to the finish line I passed one more male athlete in my age division. I remember Rinny saying how you must destroy the competition. I didn’t want anyone in my ag to feel they had a chance when I went by them. I flew threw the last age station without grabbing any fluids, with the female pro, to put down anyone in my ag who might try to make a surge for me. And it worked.  

I turned left on Sherman Street for the final few blocks to the finish. I looked behind me and could not see anyone. The only athlete I could see was the female pro in front of me. I eased up to take in my surroundings. Random cheering sections were scattered on either side of the street. It wasn’t packed like it usually is the last couple hundred yards before the finish due to the extreme heat. A random stream of water was falling from the sky on Sherman Street coming from someone’s condo window. I heard Mike Reilly, voice of IM, announce the pro who went through the finish. I took another glance back, and relieved to not see another athlete. I wanted to ease into the finish and enjoy it! Finally Mike Reilly said, “Casey Kershner’s 7th IM - You Are An Ironman!” And I crossed the finish line with my hands above my head.

I just finished the best IM race of my life.

Run: 3:38:40

10th in my ag to finish, 60th male, 72nd overall

3rd fastest run in my ag. 1st fastest the last two miles. My last five miles were faster than my starting five.

Soon after the finish line I spotted Liz jumping up and down on the outside of the fence that separates athletes from spectators. She was yelling, “You did it!  What an awesome race. You did it!”

I didn’t know exactly where I placed at the moment. Although, I received feedback on the course late in the race that I was in 12th place. There were only going to be 5 or 6 Kona slots in my ag, so I hoped I finished 7th or 8th.

“You finished in 10th place. You cracked the Top-10! I’m so proud of you,” Liz said.  The entire day’s experience completely overrode the reality that my Kona hopes were gone.

An incredible tree nearby the finish looked so proud as it provided a safe haven for a few spectators. I walked over to the tree, used its trunk to support my body to the ground, and I lied their looking up at the leaves with Liz beside me, reflecting on the day. Life could not have provided a better moment.

**Liz and I attend the awards ceremony Monday morning.  It was so cool being a part of it.  Andy Potts and Heather Jackson (male and female pro winners) gave incredible speeches to compliment their races. We watched all the top-five ag athletes go on stage to receive their IM plaques via Mike Reilly announcing their names.**  

And then the Kona slots were handed out to the Kona Qualifiers (KQ).  This part of my blog is rated R. Leading up to my age group everyone took their Kona slot.  An athlete, for whatever reason, can turn down a Kona slot, and that slot is referred to as a ‘roll-down.’  How many slots are available per age group is determined by a formula giving a larger number of athletes in an age group more slots.  

The 35-39 age groupers had 223 athletes and 5 Kona Slots available. The top-5 took their slots.  There were no roll-downs, which was consistent with all the other age groups thus far.

My age group had 275 athletes, and Mike Reilly announced there were 5 Kona Slots available. I thought that was odd since my ag had the most athletes, and everyone in the 70-74 male age division recorded a DNF. I know they had one Kona slot, so where did it go? I thought that Kona spot would roll down to the largest age division, and without question give my age group a total of 6 slots.

In my age division Mike Reilly calls the athlete’s names, and this is what happens:

#1 takes the slot

#2 takes the slot

#3 does not take the slot (roll-down)

#4 does not take the slot (roll-down)

#5 takes the slot

#6 does not take the roll-down

#7 does not take the roll-down

#8 takes the slot

#9 Takes the slot

#10 (me) looks down at the ground. My wife puts her head in my back and yells “Nooooo!”

I know I controlled everything I could within my plan, and I nailed those last several miles.

Finish time was 10:23:30. 

This race was a rolling swim start so the time when I crossed the finish line above me is not accurate to any ag athlete crossing it.

It’s not easy being a sherpa. Liz was passed out in minutes after finding our bed race-day evening.   

Laying a little smack talk down on Andy Potts after the race on race-day. Honestly, I thanked him for being such a class act pro and role model. Potts was an Olympian in the 2004 Athens Olympic games, 6-time all-american at the University of Michigan, and multiple IM wins and podium finishes. He won IMCDA 2015 coasting to an 8:20 finish time, more than 20′ ahead of second place Callum. I did not know Liz took this photo until later.

Liz and I a day before the race. In the background is Lake Coeur ‘d Alene where the 2.4 mile swim takes place. I am definitely taller than Liz! 

Our amazing crew the night after race-day finishing up dinner by the lake. From left to right is Liz, me, Todd Dicus, Jennifer Dicus and Kim Dicus. Brother D (Todd Dicus) has more than 60 triathlons under his belt starting in 1992, and multiple IMs starting in 2008.

Monday morning’s ceremony with the pro men accepting their awards. 

Monday morning’s ceremony with the women pros accepting their award, and Heather Jackson giving an outstanding speech.  It was her first IM pro win debut. 

I’m 39, several days away from 40. Ironman Coeur d’Alene is in 5 weeks; my 7th Ironman distance triathlon. For those who may not know, this event consists of, in this order, a 2.4 mile open-water swim (lake or ocean), 112-mile bike and 26.2 mile run. 

Anyone, and I mean anyone, is capable of doing this event. It’s simply a matter of ‘want to,’ like anything accomplished in life. 

My wife, Liz, is sitting in a chair to my left at my bed-side, and Dr. Ernest is standing to my right. He explains the Angiogram/Heart Cath procedure.

“I’ve read your file. You’re an endurance athlete. Your recent abnormal EKG’s indicate something has changed. It’s pretty common, with endurance athletes who are training and have consistently trained for years, to see an abnormal EKG. We expect a clean angiogram. But, if we run into anything (a blockage or collapsed artery) I can assure, you are in good hands.”

How did I get here?  Friday, May 22, 2015 I’m at KU Med, in the cardiac division, with IVs in both arms waiting for Dr. Ernest to slit my right wrist, run a Heart Cath up my artery next to the right side of my heart, and shoot die into my arteries to try and find a blocked artery, and stent it if necessary.

Tuesday, three days prior, I experienced one of the best training rides this season easily hitting my goal-power numbers at the Kansas City downtown airport.

********************

It was five years ago in 2010. Na, it really started in 2008 when I decided to hang up my basketball sneakers, and dabble in triathlon. 

I have always been a gym-rat. I was always drawn toward physical improvement at a young age. I was good at it, passionate, and my internal feedback equaled incredible satisfaction from the hard work complete. This feeling probably parallels to a friend I grew up with who was a book-rat, and incredible at solving math problems starting, as I remember, in the 4th grade. Jennifer worked hard, and she encompassed an incredible passion for it. Now, she has a family of her own, and is an extremely successful math teacher in Chicago challenging young minds.  

Basketball became my go-to sport, like Math became her go-to subject. The gym smell, fresh sweat, squeaking of sneakers, sounds of basketballs dribbling, coaches yelling, inspirational speeches, the Xs and Os, and game-day. It completely diluted any and all insecurities. Hell, I just wanted to play basketball. I wanted it to last forever. it was my identity growing up, and a strong attachment for my well being even, as crazy as it may sound, into my early 30s playing in leagues around Kansas City. It became sort of like tug of war, and I was holding onto to the muddy side of the rope as it slipped through my hands. No, basketball didn’t last forever.

Bob Zender, a good friend of mine, from my PR (public relations) agency days, agreed to meet me at the local YMCA several mornings a week before work, in 2008, to learn how to swim. When basketball was slowly dissolving from my passion, I kind of drifted a bit from who I am, and, with the help of several awesome poor decisions life threw at me, things kind of compounded into a person I didn’t like, or even know. To curb it, I signed up for a mid-summer sprint triathlon - Shawnee Mission Tri (SMT).  It was totally random, a new challenge, and something I could really sink my teeth into outside of work.  I had no idea how to swim; couldn’t swim 25 yards in a pool without panicking to find the end. 

I convinced Zender to sign up for SMT. We were so awful in the pool; truly a minor miracle to finish an open-water swim of any distance. But, we were in it together. A common goal. A huge challenge and accountability. Several months from when we started swimming (wait, I mean just moving forward like turtles with a missing leg in the water), we were going to be released in the open water to swim 500 yards.  

An Ironman distance triathlon was like trying to understand Black Matter in space. It was totally out of my wheelhouse.

In 2010, after completing multiple triathlons, in 2008 and 2009, including a half-ironman distance, I was hooked.

Little did I know, at the time, Zender was one of many incredible people, and friendships, I would encounter on this triathlon journey.  

This sport put balance back into my life. The people I met were extremely goal oriented, driven, excited to try new things, loved pushing themselves past their perceived expectations, and successful at their careers. These ‘new’ people being introduced in my life were different, and I wanted to surround myself with them. 

Now, after completing multiple triathlons, and meeting many people who finished IMs, the thought of doing one began to find ways to enter my wheelhouse.  I explained to my primary physician at KU med I was thinking about doing an IM distance triathlon - only one - and wanted to do my due diligence and have my heart checked out since there has been a history of some heart issues in my family.  And, in no time I had a clean bill of health with a successful EKG and Stress Test.  I signed up for 2010 IM Wisconsin, a September race. This was so far out of my comfort zone, but I committed. Game on.

My one race in 2010, turned into a second IM Wisconsin race in 2011, a third IM Wisconsin race in 2012, a fourth IM Louisville race in 2013, a fifth and sixth IM Texas and IM Wisconsin race in 2014, respectively.

********************

As I am being wheeled into the surgery room I am convinced I have a blockage. Earlier, one of the doctor’s assistants, said a runner had the same procedure a couple weeks ago. He was in his upper 30s and in good shape, and a blockage was found. They gave him a stent, and a new lifestyle.  They probably saved his life! But, I didn’t want a new lifestyle. I love my triathlon lifestyle!! And, then the damn assistant reached in his pocket and pulled out a little spring looking thing. He held it in front of my face, and said “this is what we will use if we see a blockage 70% or greater.”  Hm, assistant leaves.

Pale look. Can’t breath. All these flashbacks on ‘the good old healthy days.’

“Casey. CASEY. Snap out of it. I can see it all over your face. I know you are going to be fine,” Liz. 

Thank God for my wife Liz! One of the toughest, passionate, driven, caring people I know.

The surgery room is cold. It’s is so damn cold. I’m moved from my bed to the surgery room. There’s a young assistant over me, and I can see her bleached blue hair strands coming out of her cap.  I’m wondering if I saw her at Mid-Town smoking a cigarette the other night when Liz and I went out for dinner. Then I hear someone say “I just gave you the good stuff.”  Oh, I can feel it go up my right arm, into my shoulder, and now the high no-care-in-the-world feeling. I start asking everybody’s names. People start raising their hands around the room laughing and saying their names one at a time. I’m in a good place. I’m ready.

“So are we about ready to do this?” - me

“We are done.” - someone

“No, we’re not. Let’s go ahead and get this done.” - me

“Casey, I’m serious. We are done.” - someone

“Ok? Well, what are the results?” - me

“You are clean. Everything is good.” - me

At that moment. I just closed my eyes and thanked God. I really really did.  A peace, like no other, went right through my mind and body. I’ve never been more thankful for my health, or more appreciative of a moment, than that instant. I’ll never forget it. 

What a gift several days before age 40!

I just want to say I am so thankful for my very close friends and family, and two dogs! 

And, someone who has physically and mentally pushed me these last couple of years so far beyond my limits, Coach Michelle Simmons.