My name is Jen and I have a dysfunctional esophagus.
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What bubbled up during a visit to our old stomping grounds in Central New York state.
Two weeks out from Ironman South Africa, I'm happy to report that I avoided the pit of post-race despair.
On the trip of a lifetime, goals, dreams, and disappointment.
Ironman lift-off is just around the corner. Here are some things that have brought me sanity.
The bump on the road toward my A-race was just that, a bump.
A jeopardized Ironman has lent a berry-picking analogy to my training. Maybe it can help someone else, too.
Training and racing show measurable progress not evident in other areas of my life.
2300 feet of climbing, 23 miles, and a wind burned face later, I returned home wondering why I haven't been camping in so long.
I will always remember the little race on the outskirts of one of America's coolest towns as my entrance into the sub-5 club.