Two weekends ago I had the joy of supporting and celebrating my brother and sister-in-law as they crushed their first Ironman triathlon in Tempe, AZ.

Their back story is kind of fun…over a year ago my brother Scott texted me that he was thinking about doing something big for his 60th birthday, hinting, “IM?” I casually threw out the idea of doing Ironman Arizona because I had done that race in 2016 and enjoyed the experience immensely (you can read my race report here if you want to know just how much). I don’t know what conversations took place between Scott and his wife, Jess, but when Christmas rolled around last year, Scott received a phenomenal gift to celebrate his sixth decade: an entry into Ironman Arizona. It blew him away and also gave him plenty of time to wrap his head around this epic 140.6-mile race, and fully embrace the journey ahead.

The kicker? Jess also signed herself up so they could spend much of the year training together. Crazy Brave, right? That is until you know she is a fearless fitness/running coach, and both are ultra-marathoners who have completed numerous trail races, including 100-milers with mind-bending elevation. They had never done an ultra triathlon though, and neither felt especially strong in the water. So what’s a little 2.4-mile swim and a 112-mile bike ride before you knock out a marathon?

When Jess told me that she had signed both of them up, I knew I wanted to be there for this momentous occasion, and also help celebrate Scott’s 60th birthday year.

Fast forward to two weekends ago, November 19, 2023, when it all came together. Scott and Jess drove 18-20 hours from Oregon to take part in this event, unfolding their bodies from their Jeep late Thursday afternoon. I hopped in my car in California Saturday morning and drove 7 1/2 hours straight, with one quick pit stop. I was especially giddy when I arrived because all week there had been severe weather advisories in our area, and the night before, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to go. The National Weather Service had issued its most ominous warning for Friday and Saturday: “Bands of heavy rain and thunderstorms, potential flooding, localized flash flooding/debris flow concerns, strong winds, hail, lightning, and isolated waterspouts.” Thankfully, it never materialized.

Arriving in Tempe in the late afternoon, I checked into the hotel and was greeted by a huge bag of treats, as well as some “Ironman love” (a new visor and water bottle), compliments of my awesome Ironpeople-in-the-making. It’s a “spectator bag for the long day ahead,” Jess smiled and downplayed my gratitude. So thoughtful.

The three of us spent the evening catching up over a nice dinner, talking about our kids, life, and logistics for race morning, which was now less than 12 hours away. They are such pros, they had everything dialed in so all I had to do was walk across the breezeway in the morning and knock on their door.

After staying up way too late figuring out what I was going to wear on race day (desert weather can be tricky, going from freezing to toasty in no time,) and how I was going to carry all my noisemakers, dry board sign and markers, sunscreen, snacks, water bottle, and layers of clothing, I set my alarm for 3:30 am. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to wake up, make coffee, and be 100% ready to go. The last thing I wanted to do was add unnecessary stress to their big day by being late or disorganized. As it turned out, they were super chill and still casually pulling together a few last-minute things when I arrived at their door promptly at 5:00am.

My first self-appointed job was to document their day, starting with having them hold a little sign I made. Then we headed to our cars and drove to a parking structure near the race venue about 10 minutes away.

While walking to the transition area where all the athletes would be based for the day, I snapped a ton of photos, both of them and the morning scene, noticing a wild assortment of emotions and energy along the way. Some people looked like they were marching to their execution chairs, others looked frazzled, a few were puffed up like they knew they were going to crush it, and most like they were just trying to keep their shit together and not forget anything. I knew those feelings well, but loved experiencing it all again from the relaxed viewpoint of a spectator. “Harness that nervous energy,” I wanted to say to them, “and use it on the course.”

While Scott and Jess were in the transition area pumping up their bike tires, donning their wetsuits, and filling up their water bottles for the day, I downed some additional much-needed coffee and chatted with others who were supporting their Ironpeople. One thing you must know about being on support crew duty is there is A LOT of standing around and waiting, which gives you ample opportunity to chat and commiserate with others.

I got a kick out talking to a guy whose wife was competing in her second Ironman. In a small world moment, I learned that they lived in the same tiny town in CO that my husband and I had lived in for nearly 30 years. You could tell this wasn’t his first support role as he was as mellow as they come while his wife was a bundle of nerves. The thing that stood out to me was the pride that shone in his eyes and the admiration that flowed from his heart. He said he could never do one of these, even though he competes in gnarly 100-mile mountain bike races in Leadville, CO, one of the highest towns in America.

In another small world moment, I chatted with a woman with a British accent whose husband was competing. Somehow we discovered that both our daughters go to the same university in San Francisco, and both are second year students who live in the same dorm building. The universe is a such a funny thing–especially the Ironman universe.

When Scott and Jess emerged clad in their wetsuits, ready to walk to the swim start, my next self-appointed job began…to hold onto Jess’ phone and post on her Instagram story throughout the day so her tribe at home could come along on the journey and be part of the fun. She thought it was a great idea, so I fully embraced it.

THE SWIM: The start of Ironman Arizona is a self-seeded 2.4-mile swim in Tempe Town Lake, which means you place yourself in the pace group with your approximated finish time. As Adult-Onset Swimmers, Scott and Jess were not overly confident in their speed, and placed themselves closer to the back of the pack than the front. I totally got that, but also knew they had trained hard and would likely surprise themselves.

Unfortunately, during the practice swim the day before, Jess had experienced her first-ever panic attack in the water, which I knew would be hard to shake from her mind, even though with the support of some caring, professional IM volunteers, she got through it and continued her swim. I reminded both of them that this was just another swim and that they had put in the work. Then I faded into the crowd and let them focus on the joy of their day together. What an incredible gift to share.

Because I can’t help myself sometimes, about ten minutes later I decided to circle back and add some levity, and also remind them they were totally capable of conquering this distance within the 2:20 cut-off time. I started hollering over the crush of swimmers: “Heyyyy Scott and Jessssss!” Then I held my neon green dry board sign high above my head with a slightly inappropriate reminder of their abilities. They looked around, trying to figure out where my voice was coming from, then were soon helped by fellow swimmers who pointed in my direction. Watching the two finally spot my message and totally bust up as they read “YOU CAN FU*KING SWIM” was pure gold. My greatest hope was that it helped them relax enough to enjoy the swim, and set a light and empowering tone for the day.

Once their wave finally entered the water I had to rely on the Ironman tracker app, which would tell me where they were in the lake and also approximate their expected finish time. I knew it would be at least an hour and a half to two hours so I made my way up to one of the bridges to get an overview of all the athletes below. Seeing the bright caps and the rhythmic blaze of arms gliding through the water brought back memories, and reminded me of what it felt like to take that huge leap of faith at the beginning of this 140.6 mile event. I couldn’t have been more excited for them.

As I looked at my tracker again, I smiled and thought, “Yes! They’re doing it! Strong and steady. Just get through this and then get on to what you love most.” The pros were already exiting the water when they were nearing the halfway point. I was having so much fun watching it all that an hour and twenty minutes zoomed by in a blink. It was mesmerizing watching all the different stroke techniques, and also slightly nerve-racking when a few athletes veered off course and nearly swam into the wall lining the side of the man-made lake.

When I looked down at the tracker again, my eyes nearly popped out of my head because it suddenly showed that Scott and Jess were just about to get out of the water, swimming at least 30-40 minutes faster than they anticipated. OMG!!! Whaaaa? FRIGGIN’ INCREDIBLE! How could I have missed them swimming under the bridge? They were clearly having some crazy race day magic! I was both stunned and exuberant. I quickly wrote my next sign, “YOU CRUSHED IT!!!” and snapped a photo, then started sprinting down to the transition area so I could try to photograph them exiting the water. My heart was pumping and my backpack was flying all over the place, but I knew they would be ecstatic with their effort so I wanted to capture that moment for them.

I stood there trying to catch my breath, squinting at each capped, wetsuit-clad swimmer, trying to discern if they were one of “my people,” but after about twenty minutes I eventually decided I must have missed them. Darn it. All I could do now was wait at the bike exit area, where they would be coming out after they changed from their swim gear into their cycling kits.

I waited and waited, worried that I had really blown it and missed that too. Then I started chatting with other people, and soon discovered that the tracker app had stopped working. Argh. “It glitched and showed our son had suddenly jumped 3/4 of a mile, then it froze,” an older gentleman told me. “Now we don’t know where he’s at.” Others were experiencing the same thing too, so I breathed a little deeper and settled in, cheering for every athlete that came through as I waited for what would likely be Scott’s and Jess’ predicted bike exit times.

Sure enough Jess came zooming out of the shoot, looking strong and happy on her bike. I was so thrilled I hadn’t missed her, I instantly became a one-woman lunatic screaming machine with my cowbell and hand clappers going in one hand and camera snapping photos in the other. “Goooooooo Jesssss!!!!! You’re crushing it!!!!!” Her big smile said everything about how her day was going. Next came Scott a few minutes later. He flashed a goofy smile and a thumbs up when I hollered, “Yesssss Scott!! Go get it!!! The bike is yours!!!” I could tell he was both happy and relieved to get through the swim, and was now ready to get after what would likely be the strongest part of his race.

BIKE: The 112-mile ride consists of three 37-mile loops heading east out of town, then venturing up the Beeline Highway. Once you get to the top of the highway, you turn around and zoom back down into town. The course isn’t technically difficult, nor insanely hilly, but it’s challenging in its own way with its gradual incline that sneaks up on your legs. It’s also mentally tough because the frontrunners are often finishing their final lap when many of the mid and back-of-the-packers are just starting. To add to that, on this day the wind decided to rear its ugly head, making for an especially challenging afternoon with 20-25 mph gusts.

Scott and Jess completed each of their laps in 2 1/4-2 1/2 hours. Every time they came back into the turn-around area the crowd helped me cheer wildly for them, and I reciprocated for their people. There were so many great stories: a mother of five who was racing while her husband and kids, all adorned in matching family t-shirts, cheered her on. Another was a 67-year old woman, Colleen, who DNF’ed in Wisconsin and was determined to finish Arizona. Her friends were all there to lift her up and get her across the finishing line, no matter what. Everyone was glued to their trackers, trying to make sure they didn’t miss their people, even though we discovered the tracker was more of an approximation that an accurate minute-by-minute feed, and it often glitched.

In between the first and second lap I was able to take a small break and walk to Starbuck’s where I sucked down a venti iced latte and nibbled on a bagel while I posted stories on Instagram. At this point I had been in motion since 3:30 am and suddenly realized how good it felt to sit down. Aaah. It instantly made me reflect back to how lucky I was to have had my husband and daughter as my #1 Support Crew for both of my Ironman races, and also my friend Kimberly and her daughter who joined them for my first one. While I remember being flooded with gratitude at the time, I can now honestly say I had no idea the level of energy it took for them to be at every possible location, and also gather up my gear afterward. They were next level and it made a huge difference. I made a mental note to tell them again how much I appreciated the way they showed up for me, especially now that I understood the epic logistics involved in all of it.

My feet and back may have been tired at that moment, but I was in my happiest of happy places. It was pure joy being able to cheer and celebrate Scott and Jess. As I shared more photos on Instagram, I realized my phone battery was already down to 5%, as was Jess’, so I hoofed it back to the parking structure to use my car chargers. The only problem is that at o’dark-thirty in the morning, I hadn’t been paying attention to where the parking structure was located. I simply followed Scott and Jess. “That was dumb,” I chastised myself as I tried to piece it back together in my head. It took me a while, but eventually I found it with the help of an Ironman volunteer who happened to be walking by and reminded me that my location might be pinned in FindMy.

After I charged our phones for as long as I could, I quickly headed back to the bike turn-around where once again I video’ed, cheered, rang my cowbell and clanked my clappers as Scott and Jess made their way through the U-turn. I sent as much positive energy off with them as I could. “You got this! Slice through the wind! You are in beast mode! Nothing is going to stop you!!!!”

After they came through for their last lap, I high-tailed it to Trader Joe’s about a mile away, to buy bouquets of flowers and chocolates for when they crossed the finish line. Then I power walked back to the parking structure another mile away to stash the flowers until later in the evening, and also charge our phones again. I was kicking myself that I had forgotten to bring my portable charger, but it felt nice to sit down for a bit and munch on some of the snacks Jess provided in my awesome spectator bag. Chocolate never tasted so good. My fitness tracker told me I had already walked over 17,000 steps.

As the sun lowered in the sky, I booked it over to the bike area again to make sure I caught Scott and Jess as they came through the “BIKE IN” chute. I could see by the pained look on the faces of many athletes that it had been a butt-kicker of a ride, and I heard multiple variations of, “Man, that wind sucked.”

When Scott came in he looked surprisingly solid and happy, and much fresher than some of the other athletes. It may have taken him a little longer than what he had planned, but it seemed like he still had a lot left in his tank. Bravo, dear brother. You’re killing your first Ironman. Jess came in a little later, and while she was smiling, I could tell she could not wait to get off her bike. She is as tough as they come so I knew the ride was a doozy. Fortunately, next up was the run, her strength.

While they made their way through the transition area, getting ready for the marathon ahead, I zoomed to the “RUN OUT” area so I could stake a spot and cheer them on as they started on their 26.2 mile journey to the finish line.

RUN: Scott came out first, stopping for a moment to high-five and tell me to cheer extra hard for Jess because she had a brutal ride. “I got her,” I reassured him. “Don’t you worry. Now you go it. You are killing it!!!” Off he went gingerly peg-leg running, reminding his body that it could do this. “That’s right, just ease into it,” I said, “You got this!”

Jess came out a few minutes later and slowed down to ask, “Is Scott doing OK? I’m worried about his feet.” I had to smile at their loving concern for each other, but I reassured her that he was doing just fine, and in fact, rocking it. Concern quickly turned to a smile, then off she went, not even looking like she’d just ridden 112 miles. Wowzer. Incredible!

The run course consists of two 13 mile loops and starts with a quick out-and-back 4-mile section. As Scott made his way back to where I was standing, he was focused, and seemed to be running gingerly, but with purpose. “Oh no, his feet are already grumpy,” I speculated. Scott battles plantar fasciitis and it returned in a big way a few weeks before the race. It looked like the cortisone injection he had gotten prior to this event wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. Then I cheered, “Yes, Scott! Strong, steady, focused. You’ve already knocked out 4 miles. You’ve got this. One mile at a time.” He looked up and half-smiled, then blew out a deep breath.

Next came Jess who looked surprisingly fresh and cheery, pumping her fists in the air and laughing at the “SLAY” sign I held as I cheered for her. Her gait and body language had Ironman written all over them. I knew she was going to cross the finish line.

The next time I saw the two was Mile 13. Jess came through first, happy, and light-footed. “Yeah, Lady!” I hollered. “You’re already done with a half marathon!!!” She smiled, but slowed down and asked me to check on Scott and try to help boost him up. She was worried about his feet. “Not a problem. I totally got this. Now keep crushing it Jess! Go, go, go!!”

Scott appeared about a minute later, running stiffly and shaking his head back and forth as though he wasn’t sure this was going to happen. “Oh hell no, I’m not letting him quit,” every fiber of my being screamed in my head. When he started walking he told me his legs were filleted. “It feels like somebody took a 2″ x 4″ and whacked me across my quads. I pushed too hard on the bike and blew them up trying to bank extra time because I knew my run would be slow.”

“Ok, let’s just keep moving forward,” I coaxed him.

Every person hits an Ironman moment during these races, and this was Scott’s, the moment he had to dig deeper than deep and convince his body to keep going.

I was being an annoying chirpy, Pollyanish sister who said, “OK, let’s focus on what feels strong right now,” to which he laughed as if there wasn’t a single thing he could think of. Then I said, “I’m going to make this easy for you so you don’t have to strain your brain. Your heart is strong. That’s where your grit and determination come from, and you have proven over and over that you can do hard things. Your other strongest muscles are your glutes. Let’s focus on engaging your glutes and take some of the strain off your quads.

“Hips forward and squeeze your glutes,” I gently commanded. “Yeah, yeah, and tall posture,” he added as he made himself get on board.

“Great. Now let’s count our steps. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8….” Shifting his focused got him out of his head long enough to get him running slightly more relaxed again. But then he started worrying about cut-off times. He told me that he needed to be to the other side of the lake by a certain time, which seemed unlikely to him. I shut that right down, playfully whacking him on the head with my hand clapper, saying “Turn that brain off and just keep moving forward. You are going to make it. Don’t waste your energy on that.”

“I repeat, you are going to make it…2, 3, 4…just keep moving forward…5, 6, 7, 8…the next aid station is right up there. You will re-fuel there then keep on going to the next one.” I was glad Scott was on a dark, quiet part of the run course as I jogged on the sidelines, clappers and phone in one hand, my bell bottom jeans swishing back and forth and my backpack bouncing up and down. Imagining how ridiculous I must have looked, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I unzipped my down jacket to let out some heat.

Between Mile 15 and 16 I stopped running and let Scott soldier on by himself, and also waited for Jess to circle back so I could snap more photos of her. One of the coolest moments of the evening came when not only did I see Jess heading toward me, but she and Scott were now both running together. What a beautiful gift to each other, and what a memorable way to share this journey.

It all came together like magic. Jess was faster on the swim by 13 minutes so she got a bit of a head start on the bike. Scott was faster in transition and the bike by 23 minutes so he caught up with her and rode with her a fair amount, then finished the last lap faster so he got a head start on the run. At this point in the night, now past 8:30 pm, their paths were completely in sync. I made sure to share this sweet moment with their Instagram tribe.

When I left them at Mile 18, I yelled, “The next time I see you will be at the FINISH LINE!!!! YOU ARE GOING TO BE IRONMEN!!!! KEEP GOING!!!”

After that, I raced back to the car to recharge our phones again, wolf down some popcorn, and grab the flowers and chocolate before heading to the finish line.

If there’s one thing you should know about an Ironman finish line is that it is magic. The long red carpet, the pulsing music, the video screen overhead, the announcer calling out each finisher’s name, the crowd madly cheering, high-fiving, and celebrating their success as if it were their own. Families and friends losing their minds. Each athlete finishing in their own special way: some throwing their fists in the air, others crying or letting out a primal scream, some sending thanks upward to their god for this miracle of finishing, some walking, others somehow sprinting, skipping or leaping across the line. I cheered for each and every person as if they were my people. I couldn’t have been happier for them, especially the ones I recognized from earlier in the race.

I continued to obsessively check the tracker to see when Scott and Jess would be arriving. Four miles to go. “Come on you two, I’m sending you every ounce of positive energy I own.” It was now nearing 10:30 pm and with every fifteen minutes or so, they got another mile closer, which also meant the lump in my throat grew bigger. Then it was two miles. When it got down to the last mile, I flashed back to what that felt like–being so dang close, yet feeling like it was still a million miles away. Being exhausted, but feeling more alive than ever before. I wondered what Scott and Jess were feeling.

Then suddenly I no longer needed to wonder because there they were entering the chute and heading down the middle of the red Ironman carpet!

I was euphoric for them. “Yeah Scott and Jess!!!!!!!! You did it!!!!! You are Ironmen!!!!!! I knew you would do it!!!!! Wooooooooooooooohoooooooo!!!!!!” Scott was hobble running, taking it all in, then pumped his fists in the air before high-fiving several cheering spectators along the chute. Jess smiled from ear to ear, beaming as they ran side-by-side and heard their names called out.

Drops of pride and joy quickly filled my eyes as I saw them cross the finish line, briefly turning toward each other with a sweet glance that said, “We just did this really hard thing together.” What a moment. What a day. What a gift.

When Scott held up his finisher’s shirt, I wanted to holler in a way only a bratty little sister could get away with, “I told you so!” 🙂

As support crew, it was such an honor and a gift to be part of their Ironman journey, knowing all that went into getting to the starting line, and all it took to cross the finish line. The stats on my Apple watch may have reflected how my my body felt at 11:30pm (standing for 19 hours, taking nearly 30,000 steps, and logging a half marathon), but the joy in my heart could never be measured.

Stay tuned for my next post in which I will share Scott’s and Jess’ perspective on participating in their first Ironman, and let you read some of their excellent advice for newbies or those contemplating their first Ironman.