Feel the fear and do it anyway

It is almost 6am on Saturday, November 7^th 2015. I am standing there with my good friend and training partner Jessica watching the waves crashing on the white sand beaches of the Boardwalk Beach Resort. Looking out at the water observing the tide as the ocean swells and then releases as if I am watching the belly of a sleeping baby. I am counting the buoys on the horizon and thinking about the long day ahead of me. I have been focused on this day for the last year and it is finally here. Everyone is watching. Am I going to be strong enough? Am I tough enough? I was scared. I wasn’t afraid for my life. I was afraid of failure.

I hear my friend Adam’s voice “Layniac!” and I forget what I am doing for a moment. He hugs me. We have been training together for the last couple of months and he is beyond excited to attack this challenge. To compare him to a kid on Christmas would actually be an understatement. This man is READY. I take a deep breath and look around. To date, my best friend Kate Hercules has been there for every endurance event I have ever committed to. I start to get nervous that I wouldn’t see her before the race. She is coming from the hotel with my Dad, and my best buddy Sam. Day in and day out Sam has been there holding me accountable. He has seen me come completely unglued during this grueling training and always knows what to say to shake me back to reality and believe in myself. The beach is crowded and buzzing with nervous energy. Finally, a miracle, through the crowd the big guy spies our friends. I get choked up and hug all three of them and it brings me peace for a moment. We snap some photos and then it’s time for us to seed ourselves in the chute.

Here it is again. Fear. I am standing all alone (with 2,800 complete strangers) now. We put our hands over our hearts to honor the United States Flag by singing our nation’s anthem. The announcer hums on about some other things in an attempt to motivate the racers but I am not listening. The countdown starts and then the bull horn. It’s time. My heart drops and everything goes quiet. Some people ran into the water, but I walked. Taking in my surroundings, trying to find a path through the chaos. I am surrounded by thousands of other racers and I try not to let the waves knock me over. What the hell am I doing? My head says “abort!” but my heart says “feel the fear and do it anyway!”

One week prior I was at Sunday dinner, a new tradition started by my dear friend Danielle. This dinner was extra special because not only did the Royals clench the World Series that night but we also honored her son’s very successful soccer career and toasted his girlfriend’s 18^th birthday and they surprised me with flowers and well wishes for my upcoming Ironman. I read the cards and handwritten notes and cried. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I am a reflection of the people with whom I surround myself. When I met Danielle in 2006 her son was an energetic 8 year old. Danielle and I were drawn to each other and I invested in her son’s development. Not only in soccer but in life. She affectionately refers to me as Nate’s “life coach” – she once told me that she wanted him to grow up to be not only physically tough but also mentally tough and she wanted me to guide him in that quest. I committed to leading him with gentle nudges and encouragement. Now, as a high school senior I sit there on Sunday observing him interacting with his family which has grown to add two beautiful little sisters. (One of which I am honored to call my God Daughter.) The oldest, 3 year old Madeline, was scared by a Halloween prank and Nate swooped her up to calm her down. He sat her on the counter and made her repeat “I am the toughest girl in the world!” until she believed it and it warmed my heart. I smiled in confidence knowing he will pay it forward and gently guide his sisters to be tough like their big brother.

As I start swimming, it is crowded and people are literally swimming over the top of me. I get elbowed in the face, kicked in the ribs and scratched. The triathlon community is often praised for how supportive everyone is. In general, triathletes embrace other triathletes with open arms and they completely commit to building up their community. Until you get in open water and then everyone turns into savages. As if the waves, salt water and marine life wasn’t enough, add in an underwater MMA fight. The struggle was real. But I flash back to the week prior and I find myself repeating after Nate. “I am the toughest girl in the world…I am the toughest girl in the world….” Next thing you know, 1 hour and 35 minutes later my feet are back on land and I am out of the water. Tougher than when I last touched the beach.

Excited I run up to transition to get ready for my bike ride. Dad is there and snaps photos and smiles with pride. “HAJO” he yells! “HAJO!” I laughed out loud. It is an inside joke from my childhood which means “Haul ass and jump on!” Kate and Sam volunteered at the race. They were in charge of applying sunscreen to athletes as they left the transition tent before getting on their bikes. An important task to say the least, but certainly not a glamorous one. I personally appreciated it as I got to chat with my best friend briefly making sure that my face wasn’t welted from the jelly fish who swam into my chin. Yes, you read that right. 2 miles into the swim a jelly fish stings me right on the chin. It basically felt like a live wire electrocuted me. It hurt, but Kate assured me there was no mark. On I went.

With any triathlon, the bike is what I worry about the most. I know my body, I know I have the strength and will power to finish the race. But does my bike? When it comes to biking, there is so much that is out of your control that can end your race. Your chain could break, you could get a flat tire, you could wreck. There was even a man on this race whose pedal fell off mid-ride. All of those are game changers and could take you out of the race. That stresses me out. I hop on Carlos (<--my bike) and remind him how important this is to me and we get started on the 112 mile journey.

As you might imagine, riding your bike on the quiet country roads lets your mind wander. Mine starts wandering to my Grandma. Born on November 7^th, 1934 she would have been celebrating her 81^st birthday on race day. Grandma passed last year shortly after her 80^th birthday. On her death bed I talked with her and held her hand. I told her about my plans to compete in the Ironman race in 2015 on her birthday and she was excited and expressed how proud she was of me and my outrageous aspirations. I knew Grandma was watching down on me. Watching me follow through on my goals. At mile 70 the clouds opened up and it started pouring. I laughed to myself “You couldn’t make this easy, could you Grandma…” and I pictured her laughing “Just giving you something to talk about.” It only lasted 30 minutes and then it cleared up as we rode in the opposite direction of the clouds.

The Ironman race gives you “special needs” bags for the bike and the run. These bags are at the halfway point of each leg. Most people fill their bags with extra nutrition, maybe some sunscreen or icy hot and then there are others who stash motivational notes in there. At my halfway point on the bike I stocked up on cliff bars and a piece of gum and applied fresh Tiger Balm patches to my hips. I also had encouraging notes from my friend Jessica who was there racing, and a card from my hero, Timmy. When I decided to commit to Ironman I wanted to do it for a charity. I chose the Children’s Tumor Foundation (CTF) and was given a hero to raise money for; Timmy was diagnosed with Neurofibromatosis (NF) when he was just a few weeks old. NF causes tumors to grow on nerves throughout the body and can lead to blindness, bone abnormalities, cancer, deafness, and excruciating and disabling pain. The Children’s Tumor Foundation funds critical research to find treatments for NF. Timmy’s life has not been an easy one, but his smile is so bright and he stays positive given all that he has been through. He has already benefited greatly from the work done by CTF - but he needs so much more. With the help of my amazing friends and family I was able to raise over $5,000 for CTF and Team Timmy. In my special needs bag was a handmade card with a picture of Timmy and a beaded bracelet with “Go Layne!” spelled out. I wore it the rest of the race with pride. Reminding myself that I should be grateful that I am capable of even attempting to compete in Ironman because there are some people out there who have the will, but literally lack the power.  

As I approach the transition area I start to feel gitty. I made it off the bike!!! I hear my Dad and Jessica’s mom Angela (aka “Mang” [Mamma Ang]) cheering my name. My friends Sam and Kate are so excited to see me off my bike; they are cheering loud because they know I was stressed about it. Sam yells “We’re doing it!!!!” And I laugh. Sam is all too familiar with my Rob Bailey obsession and one of my new favorite songs of his titled "We're doing it!" He knows this will make me smile. I perk up. “Yeah, We’re doing it!!!”

I run into the transition tent and change into my run gear. I decide to take my time during this transition, telling myself the difference between a 10 minute transition time and a 15 minute transition time is nothing in the big picture so I sit and eat my peanut butter and honey sandwich in the air conditioning. I pull out my last motivational note from Jess and a photo copy of my cards the Knoll’s gave me the week before. Nate signs off #winshit on his note – something I have been telling him since he was 8. Finishing this race is winning so it’s time to get moving on this marathon. 26.2 miles along the coast of Panama City.

The run was a 2 loop out and back, which was nice because not only did I get to see my friends and family at the halfway point but I got to see my friends who were racing with me 3 times on the course. Along with all the other racers. Triathletes really are a thing of beauty. There is no body type to define a triathlete. People of all walks of life are out there competing. There was a blind man (YES! BLIND!) out there racing. There was a man with one arm, a man with a prosthetic leg, a man in a wheel chair…even a pregnant woman. There was one woman pushing her mother in a wheel chair. Overweight men and women, super lean men and women with 8 pack abs and 0% body fat. Tall. Short. Some didn’t speak English. As I was approaching the turnaround on my last loop I jogged by a man who says in broken English “’scuse me, speak Spanish?” I shake my head “No, sorry.” As I start to jog off he yells to me again. “scuse me, how many times?” and makes a hand gesture toward the finish. I realize he is trying to ask how many miles we have left. Quickly I count to 8 in Spanish in my head and shout “Ocho!” he nods and smiles and I take off. I smile thinking about how this race has brought so many people from all over the world together. All of us committed and determined to hear those words “You are an ironman.”

As I am on the run I am reminded that everyone has a story. Everyone has some barrier that has the potential to hold them back, but they aren’t letting it. They are on that course for a reason. It was inspiring. I was able to talk to a lot of other athletes on the run and even when I was running alone I was eaves dropping on other people’s conversations in awe of the company I was keeping that evening. There was a man who had done 120 Ironman races. This was his wife’s 90^th Ironman. There was a guy who had the Ironman logo shaved in the side of his head. This was his 5^th Ironman this year and was going to do another Ironman 7 days later! There was a guy I ran with for the first 8 miles who literally learned how to swim this year. He was from Miami and was afraid of the water his whole life. He decided to overcome that fear by learning to swim and compete in Ironman (<-- #winshit).

The run course went through a neighborhood along the coast. The residents were amazing! It was hot and humid and several home owners positioned their hoses and sprinklers to spray the road. A refreshing mist! They had music blaring and some had TVs out on the lawn with a white board that had score updates of all the college football games that we were missing. Most of them were pretty intoxicated by my second loop so there was some dancing going on. One, very energetic (and slightly desperate?) lady even had a whip and she liked to chase down the boys and slap their behinds inviting them to come back after they finished the race. That was a first for me.

I ran the first 13.1 miles under the Florida sun, it wasn’t an unbearable heat – just really humid. In order to stay cool I would get two cups of water at every aid station, one I would dump on my head, the other I would drink. Luckily, in my special needs bag I had a dry pair of socks so I stopped halfway and swapped them out and chatted with Kate and Sam. Kate asked how I was feeling and while I felt good. I told her I was bored. There was so much to see and experience on the run course that I wanted to share it with my friends! Funny chalk markings on the street. Posters. The neighborhood party! I only wished I could take them with me!

Sam and Kate also had a volunteer shift at the finish line catching athletes. Not surprising when you spend a day conquering 140.6 miles your legs are a little wobbly so some athletes literally need to be held up. Others were simply delusional and needed to be walked through the chaos to get their finisher shirts, hat and most importantly that coveted finisher medal. The last 6 miles I was so excited to get that finish line and see my friends and my Dad. I thought to myself “We’re doing it!!”

The last mile was a blurry dream; I had the biggest smile plastered on my face. I was almost done!! 14 hours later I am on the homestretch. People are lining the streets high fiving you. The bibs had our name on it so people would yell my name and cheer me on as if we had been friends for years. I hit the finisher chute and became weightless I just flew down the Ironman carpet. The sun was long gone by the time I finished so they had huge lights set up that were blinding. I could see the finish line and I could hear Kate screaming and then there it is. The announcer “Layney Anonsen from Independence Missouri; You are an Ironman!” (Sam captured the magic here!)

HOLY SHIT. I did it.

Kate hugs me hard. Sam puts his arm around me and cheers. He drove the 14 hours with me to Panama so he knew how nervous I was. He witnessed all the emotion leading up to the race first hand and was as excited as I was to hear those four words. You. Are. An. Ironman. They guide me through the finisher’s process and lead me to my Dad. That is where the emotion set in. “I am so proud of you” he says as he squeezed me tight. I tear up. Holy Shit. I just did an Ironman.  The big guy yells and gives me a bear hug. We worked so hard for this. Looking back over the last several months when he would make me get up at 5am for a 6 hour bike ride. Adam always planned our route and I would just stay on his six. We would meet friends at Smithville Lake after work and do open water swims in the bitter cold waters in October. Hot Monday runs he would carry the water and wait for me at the top of hills to make sure I stayed hydrated. All for this. Ironman. We did it.

To put an exclamation on the race, Sam surprises me with tequila shots. Patron Silver just the way I like it - no training wheels. Kate tries to tough it out but can’t stomach it. The perfect end to a long day. We start walking to get my bike and all my gear and find Jess on a curb downing a piece of pizza. This is funny because Jess is very disciplined in the art of “Eat to Perform” and pizza IS NOT in her diet. I laughed when she told me it was her 4^th piece. “I am just so hungry” she says.

We gather all my stuff and hike back to the car as I start filling everyone in on the crazy run course and all the funny stories as we head back to our hotel. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower. Words cannot explain the sweat, water, salt, sunscreen build-up that has taken over my skin. As I am showering a fog comes over me and I literally almost pass out. I wrap things up and stumble out into the room straight to our food table where I snag a bag of chips. I look at Sam “I am going to pass out if I don’t eat something…” and I meant it. I lay down on the bed, and just smiled, shoving pretzel sticks in my mouth one at a time. Kate pops a bottle of champagne and we order Dominos and I pass out. An Ironman.

The next morning we woke up early to go get our finisher jackets and as I stand in line looking around at all the athletes sporting their finisher shirts from the race I am just happy. There was an older lady in front of us telling another athlete that this was her second year at Ironman Florida. Last year she raced but she didn’t finish, “DNF” she says. But that didn’t hold her back from trying again. I stood there thinking about how cool it is that her success story isn’t that she finished the race, it’s that she had the courage to try again. If you believe in yourself and have the dedication and pride and never quit, you will be a winner.

Over the last 12 months I have learned a lot. I learned that you need to be true to yourself. Don’t judge your successes based on what everyone else is doing. Everyone has a story, use their stories to motivate you to be better. Don’t use those stories as a measuring stick. The only person you should be comparing yourself to is the person you were yesterday. Be better than her. And most importantly, it is okay to be scared, just don’t run away from it.

Feel the fear and do it anyway.