by Julie Moss
It starts by signing up for a challenge, whether a 5K, hot yoga class, boot camp at your local gym, a half marathon, or Ironman. Doesn’t matter. Sign up for something that requires you to stretch beyond your comfort zone. Simple intentionality begins change in your life. As soon as you commit, the universe will start to align on your behalf, from this moment to the moment you cross that finish line. Your job? To allow this to happen and to keep working out.
My friend, Diana Kutlow, bid on a race entry for the Suja Rock ’n’ Roll Half Marathon in San Diego at the Gala for Hope. She hadn’t run much in the past few years, yet she placed the winning bid. She used the excuse of donating to a good cause to step outside of her comfort zone and take a risk. Diana could now see her running as a way to help others, to be part of something bigger than simply getting back into shape. She can now run eight miles comfortably. I run with her a couple times a week and we chat the entire time. I have no doubt Diana will get to the finish line. Find a goal that will force you to get out of your way and feel connected to something bigger than yourself.
We never know when our next race or golden opportunity will be. Or if we’ll get that opportunity. Who’s to say that, after your next big challenge, you’ll have another chance? What would happen if you treated your next major endeavor with that sense of urgency? My guess is that you’ll have an extraordinary experience, one that either leads to something bigger or feeds your big life even further.
Elite athletes work out exhaustively and pay strict attention to detail. That’s why we follow them: to watch commitment mesh with inherent greatness, and to see the athletes perform with a calm poise that seems to strengthen when it matters most. That was Mark Allen’s gift. He always got up for big races. With Ironman, ultramarathons, or any long-term endeavor, it’s not what you do in the peak or strong moments that speak to that commitment or edge, it’s what you do in the valleys. Just like life!
“You see in my mom’s race that spirit of never giving up, of persisting. That race really shaped the way people see Ironman. Yeah, there’s fifty men and fifty women that line up for the professional race, but everyone else is out there seeing if they can do it, or how fast they can do it, seeing if they can fulfill this personal challenge. I mean, that’s my mom’s goal for 2018—to go back one last time and experience the race start to finish,” Mats said.
Finishing gave me the keys to a world I never imagined as a girl. I’ve met people who populated my textbooks and the biography shelf of the library as a kid, as well as those making history today. Believe me, I felt a thrilling chill or two when I recorded a piece for Oprah Winfrey’s OWN network in New York. Now, as I grow older, it has given me the opportunity to share my experience and wisdom, filled with both a larger purpose and the knowledge of what it feels like to stretch beyond what you think possible.
I thought I would end my career on a dramatic note in 2017, waving the athlete flag proudly, saying, “Look here, look at who I am.” The young woman and little girl who nearly crossed the line a race winner in 1982 wanted, more than anything, to be a person others would notice.
I was noticed, not for winning, but for persevering. “Talk about great timing. She’s the poster child,” says Lisette, who’s seen my life journey since I was nineteen. “The unique thing, for her, is that she was the poster child for men and women. It wasn’t just women. Equally as many men have been in awe of her athletically. Given the times now, the time for women is ripe in many ways. She’s a great role model. It’s not like she’s defying the odds, it’s a new time, a new way of thinking, and she’s so inspiring. She’s doing something you never see professional athletes do; she has become a poster child at both ends of her career, the poster child of ‘you can do something!’”
I’ve learned to never say never when asked about competing in another Ironman. I was gently reminded of this by Scott Tinley, who read my Facebook posts after my DNF in Kona, the first saying goodbye, the second saying hello . . . again. After he read, he texted me:
ST: How’d you feel about the day?
JM: Clear in my choice to stop after the bike. I didn’t come to just finish by walking the marathon. I came to run and after the bike I had no run in me. I was just as clear in the light of day. No regrets, thanks for checking in.
ST: I believe you.
JM: Ha ha, there will be no do over, the chapter ends for me now, it’s Mats’s turn . . .
ST: I doubt it. People like us don’t have a choice. Mats is a good person, perhaps the best amalgamation of his parents. But for you to stand in the long, dark shadow and saying nothing. . . nothing. We’ll see about that. See you in the movies.
What a sweet exchange, complete with message: It’s never really over.
“That type of competitive drive really shows in these goals she sets. The fact that she can hit them, now? Amazing,” Kathleen said. “In 1982, she didn’t approach it so seriously. She didn’t optimize her opportunity to train, although 1985, 1988, and 1989 were good years for her. Now, she’s living up to her potential as an athlete. Had she applied herself then as she does now with her training, racing, business, strategy, commitment, time management, motivation, and drive to succeed? Who knows what she could have done? I’d say, without a doubt, that Paula Newby-Fraser and Erin Baker would’ve had a third rival at the very top.”
What has it meant? I’ve spent more than thirty-five years trying to figure it out, seeking the outer limits of myself, possibilities, and potential, and then making the turn to work with others to help them discover the same within themselves. “Is it an accident that she fell into triathlon the way she did? Yes and no,” Lisette said. “Given her background, growing up at the beach, very oriented to the ocean and outdoors . . . in the late ’70s and early ’80s, that’s where triathletes came from. Plus, when we met, that was one of our commonalities, the ocean and the outdoors. We loved running and loved being outdoors. She already had that predisposition. I think triathlon was and is very well suited to her lifestyle. And Hawaii? Hawaii is a huge part of her life, who she is.”
And now, here we are. “Julie had all the pieces then to put it together, which makes it even more beautiful now, at sixty years old, she has the time and drive, the passion, to do it,” Kathleen said. “It has come together so beautifully. She obviously is discovering her greatness.”
Epilogue
What will it feel like to toe the starting line at the fortieth anniversary Ironman World Championships? Will my personal history adorn me like a beautiful lei, or serve to remind me of the lava-sharpened edges of my limits? Will the wonderful conversations and people I’ve met through this fabulous sport and lifestyle pop into mind? Will I be digging so deeply that I’m laser-focused on putting one foot in front of the other? Or will I move smoothly, filled with thoughts of celebrating my sixtieth birthday with a strong finish?
All of these things will be with me. However, as I ponder this race, a few people and moments stand out.
I will be running for Khalil and Mats, as well as for myself. I see this race and the desire to excel in their eyes, and I want to share this experience with them—and cheer both of them on. It will be a way to connect with Mats in a very special way. He expressed very clearly that part of his legacy is to have a good Ironman experience in Kona. For me to see him racing, for the brief moment we pass each other on the course, to know his father will greet him at the finish line, and then for Mats to greet me at the finish line sometime later . . . that moment is a long time in the making. To have that moment on Ali’i Drive with my son, with his father there . . . Of all the blood, sweat, and tears, love, heartache, rejoicing, disappointments, the entirety of everything that happened with Mark and me, when all is said and done, we have Mats.
This race will be the culmination of so many dreams, time, support from family and friends, and commitment. It’s also a starting point. The gifts we receive from accomplishing what we set out to do—finishing the race—remain for the rest of our lives. Use them. One of the
gifts Mark and I have is Mats. To share his first Kona as a family . . . that’s what a family is. Mark will be there for Mats. I will be there for Mats. Mats will be there for me. It’s a great cycle. I think the moment I’ll treasure most is when Mats crosses the line, followed by me.
Lisette Whitaker will once again be my roomie in Kona for Ironman Week, making it three Konas in row. I can’t imagine not having Setty there or not seeing her at the finish line. My heart simply would not feel steady if she weren’t there. In all our Cali-Girl adventures together over the years, from sunrises in Esalen, to sunsets in Paris, she’s always been the steady one, the tortoise to my hare, the one who brings calm to my drama. However, Setty let me know that 2018 will be her last Ironman as CSS, Chief Support Sherpa. The best mahalo I can offer up, to the woman who knows me best, is to race drama-free and boringly steady in her honor.
I will also be running for my lifelong friend, Cindy Conner. In January, less than a week after I got on the plane to join Khalil and Gwilym in Morocco, I received a text. While unloading her skiing equipment curbside at LAX, Cindy was crushed between two cars. She has undergone many surgeries to repair a crushed pelvis and severe internal injuries. Here’s a woman who spent thirty years in the trenches for the LA Sheriff’s Department, always running straight into danger. She made it through her entire career pretty much unscathed while attending the funerals of many coworkers that were not so lucky. One year after she retired, she had this horrible accident.
Cindy has enjoyed a very active life, running half marathons, skiing, surfing, and stand-up paddling. She’s a stud. Thank goodness she was in great shape when this happened. That’s when training and fitness really pays off, when we’re pushed up against our mortality. She was on my mind for every run and bike ride that followed her accident. Rather than feeling guilty about being on basically international traveling camp while she lay in a hospital bed, fighting for her life, I thought, “I’d better get out and work out every day, and not complain, and not whine. Cindy can’t. It’s going to be a very long time before she can even consider working out.” I’ve trained with her in mind. It is a special motivation, one Shalane Flanagan used in a different way to win the 2017 New York Marathon. There’s going to be a point where I can again walk with Cindy, jog with her, and run another half marathon with her. If anyone can bounce back from such horrific injuries, it is Cindy. She’ll be back out there.
My brother, Marshall, tells a revealing story about her: “Years ago, we were racing sabots out of Oceanside Harbor. She’d already clinched the overall series title going into the last race, but if I won this last race, I would finish second in the overall. Cindy is one of the toughest and most athletic people I know, and I used to think even a little mean when we were in high school. During the race, I caught up to her, and she complained that her governor was jammed. She too knew how important the last race was to me. I ended up winning . . . and then, as other competitors wondered how Cindy lost that race, I thought about it. Normally, Cindy would’ve kept her rigging together with her teeth. From that moment, I realized that beneath her toughness is a heart that always looks out for others.”
After my last bike ride on Gran Canaria, I had some extra time and was out taking pictures, and I thought, “Do I have to do that transition run?” Those are tough; they call upon you to dig right away to find a comfort level you can maintain, whether you’re out thirty minutes in a workout, two hours in a Half Ironman, or four hours in an Ironman. The actual race is better, because you do it once and you’re done. Whereas in training, you’re doing it over and over. An image came over me: “Cindy, come run with me. Let’s get you out of that hospital room.” It was sort of spiritual to take her on the run. Then we “talked” for all thirty minutes.
I will also be running for you.
Will this be my final Ironman? Never say never. Scott Tinley knows me well. I’ve said “never” before—after 1990, 1997, 2003, and 2012. I even said it briefly, and very publicly on Facebook, after 2017. There have been too many moments of inspiration from Kona to say I’m done. When I wrote Diana Bertsch about entering, she replied, “We’re never truly done with Kona, and Kona isn’t done with you.”
Kona also isn’t done with my family. I feel like Mark and I paved a nice road, one that Mats chose to run without prompting from either parent. He will carry the legacy forward, in whatever shape and form, while fulfilling part of his own personal legacy. And we’ll be there cheering him on, remembering when we too were that young and that mighty and fast.
It’s time to lace up and chase another dream. It’s time to fly.
Mark, Mats, and Julie Following five-day vision quest in Alaska. Image from the Moss family archives.
Mile seventeen of the Boston Marathon in 1991, at the beginning of Newton Hills, when I nearly made Olympic trials. My final time was 2:47. Image courtesy of Sue Robison.
The picture-perfect family—Don, Eloise, Marshall, and Julie Moss. Image from the Moss family archives.
Kindergarten, Spring 1964, and already sporting a smart-aleck look. Image from the Moss family archives.
On the bike in Kona, 1982, riding my Univega, and wearing a skateboard helmet with my new Lycra Wonder Woman skinsuit. Image from the Moss family archives.
Early in the run portion of Ironman 1982, well before the trouble at the end. Image from the Moss family
Coming out of the swim portion of Ironman 1982 in Kona and heading toward boardwalk and on to transition. Image from the Moss family archives.
My day job after Ironman 1982: lifeguarding in North San Diego County. Image courtesy of Sue Robison.
Pushing hard on the run during Ironman Japan 1986. Image courtesy of Bridgestone.
On the bike in Bridgestone gear, 1985. Image courtesy of Lois Schwartz.
Speedo promo shot of Scott Tinley and me running together, inscribed by Scott as follows: “We were so much older then, we’re younger than that now.” Image courtesy of Scott Tinley.
Bearing down on the bike. Image courtesy of Lois Schwartz.
Ironman Japan 1986, wearing #3, which was my overall finish the year before. Image courtesy of Bridgestone.
Gracing the cover of Triathlon magazine, which included my dual interview alongside Kathleen McCartney. Copyright © of Triathlon magazine.
The spread in Triathlon—one of many times people have asked Kathleen and me about the 1982 race. Copyright © Claudia Kunin/Triathlon Magazine.
Catching a hometown wave. Image courtesy of Mark Allen.
Reed and I hosting Mark Allen in October 1982, his first Ironman. Image from the Moss family archives.
With Erin Baker, one of the greatest triathletes in the 1980s and early 1990s, with whom I trained in 1989, my best year. Image from the Moss family archives.
An adoring and in-love couple. Image from the Moss family archives.
Mark and Julie hiking an icy slope in Villarica, 1991. Image courtesy of Emilio de Soto.
Champions’ Kiss after winning Sater, Sweden together in 1991. Image from the Moss family archives.
Our Christmas Card in 1994, taken in Kona during Ironman week. This time, Mark is a specator! Image courtesy of Shana Menaker.
Running the Mission Bay Half Marathon on my wedding morning. I ran 1:24, complete with a bridal hat! Image from the Moss family archives.
Mark, Mats, and I in a sweet moment. Image courtesy of Colleen Morgans Photography.
One of my favorite portraits of my mother, Eloise Julie Tubach. Image from the Moss family archives.
Mark holds Mats as I wave to spectators after my return to Ironman in 1997. Image from the Moss family archives.
What a return! After seven years away, I ran my second-fastest career Ironman in 1997. Image courtesy of MFA.
I came back again in 2003—and ran a 10:57 at age forty-five. Image courtesy of MFA.
Striking a USA Triathlon Hall of Fame pose at my 2014 induction. Image courtesy of Paul
Yoga has been a central part of my life for a
decade, and one of my secrets to racing well later in life. Image courtesy of Topher Riley.
Talking to fans during #RunWithJulie, our pre-event group run through HOKA ONE ONE. Image courtesy of Paul Phillips/HOKA ONE ONE.
In 2016, Mats hiked the entire 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail—and definitely looked the part! Image from the Moss family archives.
Kathleen and I running together at Torrey Pines in San Diego. Image from the Moss family archives.
I’m all smiles after a strong hometown run at the 2017 Ironman 70.3 Oceanside. Image from the Moss family archives.
Few things light me up more than hearing inspiring stories like those I hear on the #RunWithJulie outings. Image courtesy of HOKA ONE ONE.
My Iron Twin, Khalil Binebine. Courtesy of Julie Moss.
Team Binebine before the start of Dubai 70.3. Left to Right: Bachir, Julie, Gwilym, and Khalil. Courtesy of Julie Moss.
A Week in the Life of Julie Moss: An Ironman’s Training Menu
