Team Emilie

An Ironman Race Recap!

2011-07-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

Saturday Night Dinner in Spokane

Driving to Coeur D'Alene, I was a ball of nerves. I kept thinking of all of the possible things that could go wrong during the race (choppy water, flat tire, broken chain, a massive bonk on the run). If I didn't finish, my biggest concern was that I would disappoint the many people who have been so supportive throughout our entire training. I didn't want to let them down.

Yet during our pre-race pasta dinner with Dave's parents and my own, my nerves started to be overshadowed by excitement and joy. Getting to spend time with people that I love in such a beautiful part of the country was amazing. During our carbo-load, I was able to truly appreciate kicking off our Ironman weekend with such supportive and loving family members.

Swim 2.4 Miles (Emilie 1:44:52/ Dave 1:19:24)

At 7:00 am, Dave and I stood on the Lake Coeur d'Alene beach with 2,400 other athletes, staring out into the calm water of our first leg. I started to tear up in my goggles, in disbelief that this moment had actually arrived. When the gun went off, everyone charged the water, having their breath taken away by its 55 degree temperature. After ten minutes of a congested and chaotic frenzy, things started to open up. I found a rhythm in my stroke and settled in for the swim, passing the many volunteers on boats, jet skis, and surf boards lining the course.

Coming out of the water after the first lap, I couldn't believe I was already half way through the swim. A length that seemed like hours during training flashed by in what seemed like minutes during the race. I ran over the timing pad on the shore, then eagerly headed back into the water for my second lap.

When I sighted the red swim finish chute from the water near the end, I was filled with excitement for having completed the swim in a decent time. Knowing that I was well within the cut-off time limits, I felt really good about the swim portion of my race. The cheers from the many spectators became louder and louder as I got closer to the shore. When the water was shallow enough to put down my feet, I stood and looked up to see a sea of encouraging, proud faces surrounding the swim exit.

Transition 1 (Emilie 11:54/ Dave 12:01)

My legs were a little wobbly running onto the shore. Volunteers were helping me stand and guiding me in the right direction. Wet-suit strippers pulled off my suit, I ran to grab my transition bag, and then headed into the changing tent.

In the changing tent, one kind volunteered helped me the entire time. She took out the contents of my bag and handed each thing to me as I needed it. My fingers were still frozen from the water, making my transition much longer than I expected. I could not move my fingers, so the volunteer was a huge help in getting the velcro open on my shoes, getting my socks on, etc. When I was finished changing, she even put everything back in the bag for me so that I could quickly continue with my race.

After being slathered with sunscreen by more volunteers, I ran to my bike. The transition area was pretty empty by then, so it wasn't hard to find. I spotted my parents, feeling encouraged by their big smiles and cheers. Then I made my way to the bike exit, ready to begin the second leg of the race.

Bike 112 Miles (Emilie 7:20:37/ Dave 6:13:20)

The first twenty miles of the bike course was relatively flat and full of spectators. I was feeling very good about my pace and my spirits were high. While many people were passing me on expensive tri-bikes, I was holding my own on my road bike and felt confident that I would make the cut-off times.

Then, after twenty miles, the course climbed up into the hills behind Coeur d'Alene. It was here where my pace slowed and I began to feel the exhaustion of the day set in. There was hill after hill, climb after climb, on roads without much crowd support. Most athletes struggled up those hills and I saw some people walking their bikes. While I didn't need to do that, a few times I had to take it down to the easiest gear and still had to stand to get up and over the hill.

Entering town after the first lap, I was relieved to be back by the crowd and the flat portion of the course. I tried to eat as much food as I could on the bike: gels, gu, Power Bars, etc. This started to make my stomach very upset, but I knew it was important to take in as much nutrition as possible. Those hills were waiting for me once again and I wanted to be ready.

The second loop was much slower than the first. With every mile, my average pace was decreasing. I started to calculate cut-off times in my head and was worried about finishing in time. The hills seemed bigger and longer the second time around, but with each one, I knew that I would never have to climb it again and I was one step closer to the run.

I ended up finishing the bike with an average mph of 15.25. This was much slower than I expected, but considering the hilly course, I am happy with my time. Seeing the bike finish was exhilarating and energizing. Unlike the swim, which seemed to go by so fast, the bike was a long and challenging leg that I was happy to be done with.

Transition 2 (Emilie 4:28/ Dave 6:37)

This transition was much faster than the first for two reasons: my fingers were not frozen this time and there was much less to change. Volunteers grabbed my bike and gave me my transition bag. Again, one volunteer helped me exclusively in the changing tent to switch my shorts and shoes. I was covered with sun screen, once again, by volunteers and was sent on my way to start the final leg... THE FINAL LEG... of my Ironman journey.

Run 26.2 Miles (Emilie 5:19:55/ Dave 4:18:51)

I had a race plan for the run; I would walk the water stations and the hills, but run everything else. I was able to stick to my race plans and keep a slow jog the entire time. I drank the chicken broth and cola at the aid stations, ate some pretzels and chips, and just kept my sights set on that next mile-marker ahead.

The run was really a struggle for me. Blisters were forming on my feet in places that I had never had problems before and my stomach was still upset from the bike. The two most uplifting times on the run were seeing Dave when we passed each other, and spotting our parents. Their enthusiasm and pride filled me and I tried to figure out a way to carry this spirit through the last ten miles. When I was running, each time there was a spectator cheering on the course, I would pretend that it was someone that had encouraged me during training. All of my friends and family, people at the Burn Center, work colleagues, SJS survivors, and other survivors that have reached out to me along the way, they were there, cheering me on. Each face along the course was a different supportive face from my life, one right after the other, unfolding in front of me as I passed the mile markers one by one. I started to become very emotional, having such an amazing group of loving people in my life. It was a very humbling, incredible experience. Even as the sun set around mile 20, the loved ones of my life helped me run those final few miles in the dark.

Finish (Emilie 14:41:46/ Dave 12:10:13)

Crossing the finish line of an Ironman is as unbelievable experience. Spectators there know what this means to you. They get it. They are sharing this victory with you.

I started to tear up during that final .2 miles. I couldn't believe that I was staring at that Ironman chute with so little left to go. I saw Dave and our parents on the side lines, waving their arms and jumping up and down. Each step filled me with an overwhelming cascade of emotions: pride, relief, appreciation, pain, satisfaction. I was exhausted, and yet I was more alive than I have ever been.

As I was getting closer, I heard the announcer proclaim, "Emilie Nickoloff, you are an Ironman"... yet at that moment, I was so much more. I was an SJS survivor, coming out of a coma just a few years ago, taking slow walks to the mailbox covered in burns without nails and sections of hair, scarred eyes and a shortness of breath, knowing that at any moment I could find myself fighting for my life in the Burn Center once again. There I was at that Ironman finish line, an SJS survivor, proving to others, but mostly to myself, that being a survivor means more than just surviving, it means living.

Thank you for all of your donations. Together, we raised over $1,500 dollars for the University of Colorado Burn Center. Burn patients, their families, and the community will greatly benefit from your contributions.

Your encouragement over the last seven months has meant the world to me. You were there in the uplifting faces of the people along the sidelines for the last ten miles, helping me to put one foot in front of the other. I am overwhelmed by your support and am filled with humility and gratitude. Thank you for your kindness and compassion. You have helped to make me a better person.

Here We Go!

2011-06-21T20:20:00.000-07:00

I have spent the day packing for our trip to Coeur D'Alene. At this point I have thought of every conceivable scenario on race day and hopefully have prepared myself properly. I have visualized the transitions in my mind, calculated my nutrition plan, and thought of all weather possibilities. I packed back-up everything just in case something unforeseen were to happen. I have taken too many last-minute trips to various stores to count. But now, as it stands, there are two packed bags and a wetsuit on my bed, waiting to start our journey north.

After an early morning bike and run tomorrow, Dave and I will start off in the Subaru for the 17 hour drive from Denver to Coeur D'Alene. We did a similar drive to the half-Ironman in Lawrence, Kansas last summer. There is something special about driving to an out-of-town race for me. You are able to enjoy the countryside and each other's company more completely. You embark full of anxiety and excitement and leave full of stories and satisfaction. With a few books on tape, podcasts, and lots of music, the time should pass quickly.

Friday and Saturday will be spent in Coeur D'Alene doing all we can to prepare for the race. We will pick up our race materials from the athlete check-in and begin to assemble our transition and special needs bags. Driving the course, swimming in the chilly water, and attending course talks will also be on our agenda. Both sets of our parents will be meeting us up there, so we will have the opportunity to have a nice meal together on Saturday night.

I'm sure those few days in Coeur D'Alene before the race will be intimidating and nerve-wracking. When you check-in on Friday at an Ironman, they give you a wrist band that you need to wear the entire weekend to have access to parts of the course and the transition areas. The weekend of the race, you see these wrist bands on almost everyone. When this happened during my first (and only) half Ironman, I started to feel like I didn't belong there, like I was an impostor. I felt like the other people with the wrist bands were real athletes and I was just a tourist. I think we all feel this way the first time we do anything, but we need to move forward despite this feeling. Through a confidence in ourselves and a faith in our training, we stand on that starting line as equals to everyone else, excited to begin the fun and challenging day ahead.

I hope to blog one more time before Sunday. If not, I want to thank you for all of your support. In the past few weeks, I have received numerous cards, emails, comments, and Facebook messages wishing us well. All of you will be with me throughout the race, helping me put one stroke/pedal/foot in front of the other. Your immense encouragement has made such a difference in my life. Also, a BIG thank you to Karen and her family for housesitting for us. They will be visiting from Arizona, staying at our house while we are away this weekend and also for a week after our return. I can't wait to spend time with you, Greg, and beautiful Eli when we get back!

Athlete Tracker

You will have the ability to follow us online the day of the race. I'm sorry that the directions I'm about to give you are very vague, but I don't really know too much about it. If you are reading this and have followed an Ironman athlete on race day before, please post any details that you know of in the comments area of this post.

On Sunday June 26th, go to either ironman.com or ironmanlive.com (I'm not sure which one will work best). There should be an athlete tracker link for the Coeur D'Alene Ironman. You can start tracking us as early as 7:00 am (Pacific Time) and the race closes at midnight. You will be able to look us up by last name (Nickoloff), but if not, my bib number is 244 and 1177 is Dave's number.

To donate to the Burn Center, do online to www.uch.edu.donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie) to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

The Channel 7 News Story

2011-06-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

I hope to be smiling this
big during the Ironman!

I am very excited to say that Sunday night's Channel 7 (ABC) nightly news included a story about my Ironman journey after SJS. Below is a copy of the text and a link to the Channel 7 site where you can see the entire video. At first I was nervous to do the interview, but now I am really glad that I did. So many amazing people have reached out to me since Sunday (other survivors, family members of survivors, triathletes, etc). You will all be in my thoughts during the race... IN 6 DAYS!

Link to the Story

Woman Overcomes Rare Disease To Compete In Ironman

Emilie Nickoloff Hopes To Raise Awareness About Stevens-Johnson Syndrome

Doug Schepman, 7NEWS Reporter

POSTED: 4:35 pm MDT June 16, 2011

UPDATED: 10:15 am MDT June 20, 2011

DENVER -- Running on the Cherry Creek Trail, Emilie Nickoloff and her husband, David, are training for the race of their lives, an Ironman triathlon.

The Ironman is a "2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and then a marathon, 26.2 miles," Nickoloff said.
She's in the best physical condition of her life. It's a stark contrast to four years ago when Nickoloff was admitted to the University of Colorado Hospital burn unit with a rare and potentially lethal disease.

"I had a fever of 104 and finally, we decided it was time to go to the hospital," Nickoloff said. "We noticed there was a rash forming on my arms. It started to spread all over my torso."
She was diagnosed with Stevens-Johnson syndrome.

"It's an autoimmune reaction," said Dr. Gordon Lindberg, medical director of the University of Colorado Hospital burn unit. "You take a medication, and for reasons that we don't understand completely, the body forms an allergic reaction to the skin, and the skin sloughs off."

The reaction also affects the mucous membranes, especially in the mouth, nose and eyes. In severe cases, patients can lose their vision. Nickoloff's vision was saved through cutting-edge amniotic membrane transplants.

"I woke up from a coma blind, and it took about a month to get my sight back. So people were telling me that I had burns all over my body, but I didn't know what that meant," Nickoloff said.

Lindberg said Stevens-Johnson syndrome patients are put into a medically induced coma so they don't feel the extreme pain of bandage changes and wound care. The UCH burn unit treats SJS patients from a five-state region. Still, it only treats between 15 and 20 cases each year. The rare nature of the disease left Nickoloff feeling isolated.

"I was trying to reach out to people, but there really wasn't anyone to reach out to," she said.
Now, having made a full recovery, Nickoloff is volunteering to share her experience with other SJS patients in treatment.

"I'll be talking with them and explaining my experiences and what it was like to come home and start the long recovery process," Nickoloff said.

She is also supporting SJS patients by raising money and awareness for the disease by competing in the Ironman triathlon; all the while, she is choosing not to dwell on the possibility of another reaction. In her case, doctors are unable to identify the cause of her reaction.

"A medication is out there that could kill me, potentially, and I don't know what it is," Nickoloff said. "But instead of being inhibited by that fact, I can still go out and accomplish great things everyday, and I hope that other people with Stevens-Johnson syndrome can take kind of a fearless approach to moving forward after the disease."

To learn more about Nickoloff's story or to track her Ironman training, read her blog.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu.donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie) to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Three Goals Down... One to Go!

2011-06-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

I had four goals when I started this process close to seven months ago:

1. Raise money for the Burn Center Fund and the Burn Service Crisis Intervention Fund

Currently, the University of Colorado Foundation has received 31 gifts totaling well over $1,000 in the name of "Team Emilie." The generosity of loved-ones and strangers alike has amazed me. Thank you so much for helping us to support burn victims and educate the community about burn safety through your contributions. There is still time for donations to help us raise even more.

Dave at Grant Ranch Lake
for an open water swim.

   Next weekend, Dave and I will be attending a University of Colorado Hospital Burn Center golf tournament fundraiser where we will be acknowledged for your contributions. Meeting others also dedicated to giving back to the hospital is something I am greatly looking forward to. I promise to post pictures after this exciting event.

2. Reach out and inspire other Stevens Johnson Syndrome Survivors

   Through my blog, I have met two SJS survivors directly and interacted with many others in online groups I have joined over the past few months. Kendra is one of the amazing SJS survivors I have met along my Ironman journey. She is a runner from Wisconsin who brings together other survivors to participate in races with Team SJS. The highlight for their team is running the Fox Cities Half-Marathon every year. One of these years I hope to join them. Check out her touching blog: One Foot in Front of the Other

3. Spread awareness of Stevens Johnson Syndrome

   You would be amazed at how many hits my blog gets daily. I average about 20-40 hits a day with over 1,800 all time pageviews. Undoubtedly, many of these pageviews are the same few devoted people time and time again (Mom, Jan, Karen). To my regulars, I appreciate your dedication and enthusiasm. Yet other pageviews are people that did not know about SJS and are just learning about its devastating effects. Thank you for your curiosity, compassion, and willingness to learn.

The finish line at the Elephant Rock
100 Mile Century Ride.

I have also helped to spread awareness outside of this blog. Dave and I were interviewed for a human-interest news story by Channel 7 ABC ( I will upload it to the blog when it airs). I also posed in a photo shoot for a University of Colorado Hospital print ad to be run in the 5280 magazine for their August 'best doctors' issue (I have a tiny headshot in the ad). My friend, Angie, also did a spotlight of my story and SJS on her blog, Ripple Affect: Awareness Leads to Action. I never thought my little story would get this much exposure.

4. Complete an Ironman

Oh yeah, then there is the Ironman. Wow, only 13 more days! The travel details are set, our workouts are tapering down, and all last-minute gear has been purchased. I have dedicated most of my free time over the last seven months to training for this iconic race and now it is almost here. My head is plagued with anxiety and doubt, but underneath all of that is a confidence and enthusiasm filling my entire body. I feel energized and prepared; I know that I can do this. I AM READY! Coeur D'Alene, here we come!

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu.donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie) to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Ironmaybe

2011-06-01T20:09:00.000-07:00

I am a very anxious person, always finding things to worry about. My imagination plays out the 'what ifs' in my head and I become preoccupied with the potential for disaster. My feelings toward the upcoming Ironman, 25 days away, are no exception to this tendency for worry. The race has begun to consume my thoughts. While this does have the benefits of distracting me from other stress in my life (starting a new job next year, finishing my final three graduate classes this summer), it also makes me very nervous for the big day, June 26th.

My biggest Ironman fears pertain to the looming cut-off times for the race. I am not an accomplished athlete- all races that I have done in the past have been at slow, comfortable paces with little concern for my finishing time. While the 17 hour Ironman cut-off time seems generous at first, when looking at the cut-off times for each leg individually, my anxiety grows exponentially.

2.4 Mile Swim: Course closes 2 hours 20 minutes after the official start

A dorky picture I sent to my mom
when I first bought my swim gear in 2009

Due to chronic ear infections as a child, I never learned how to swim. While I could doggie-paddle for survival purposes, any formal introduction to strokes and technique was abandoned to maintain my health and well-being. When I decided to attempt triathlons two years ago, I knew I needed to learn how to freestyle swim. I would watch You Tube swimming videos and lie on the floor of my living room, trying to figure out how to kick, stroke, float, and breath all at the same time. I later moved into the pool at a local gym, only able to make in a few strokes before holding on to the wall. Clearly, swimming is my biggest weakness and to this day, I have never taken a lesson. I am self taught, moving through the water at a snail's pace.

Last weekend, Dave and I went to Grant Ranch Lake to practice open water swimming for the first time this season. The chilly mid 50's water temperature did not detour us from finally taking our swim training out of the pool. The Ironman will have a similar water temperature and we need to get used to that initial shock of the cold. I swam 2.3 miles in 1 hour 45 minutes (although it was probably much longer because I can't swim in a straight line to save my life). If it were the race, I would have 35 minutes to spare... this does not seem like a lot of time. With the other swimmers bashing into me during the mass start, I could lose some of those precious minutes. If I stay too long on the beach waiting for things to clear out, I could lose even more.

112 Mile Bike: Course closes 10 hours 30 minutes after the official start (8 hours 10 minutes for the bike alone)

Today I completed my ride at 16.2 mph. If I complete the bike portion with an average of 16 mph, the bike will only take me 7 hours and I will be finished in plenty of time. Even if I average 14 mph, I will successfully make the cut-off time. While this seems very manageable, this bike also has the most unforeseen variables: an unrelenting headwind, multiple flat tires, a broken chain, a fall. Ironman Coeur d'Alene is also a very hilly course with two large climbs. The hills plus any of the other variables could greatly reduce my average mph making a 14 mph ride much tougher than usual. I hope that my Elephant Rock Century Ride this weekend (with over 6,000 total vertical feet of gain) will be good practice for what is to come. If I can finish that ride with an average pace of over 14 mph, my confidence will be restored.

Dave, Karen, and I at the finish of
the Las Vegas Marathon

26.2 Mile Run: Course closes 17 hours after the official start (6 hours 30 minutes for the run alone)

I think to myself, "Just make it to the run... Just make it to the run." Running is something I love; I have completed multiple marathons, half-marathons, 10Ks, and 5Ks before. I know that I can easily do a marathon in under the required 15 minute miles. I've hit the metaphorical "wall" before and run through it with determination and perseverance.

But then I see videos like this one and think that I might be oversimplifying this marathon just a bit:

Watching two professional athletes fall apart like that at the finish makes me wonder what might happen to me. While I won't be going nearly as fast as those two amazing women (this is a very extreme case- thank goodness), my worrisome imagination does get the better of me. I certainly hope I will be able to keep it together until the end.

I predict for the next 26 days these apprehensive thoughts will be floating around in my mind, popping in and out of prominence. I hope that I have what it takes to complete each leg of this race successfully and in the required cut-off time. I do not want to disappoint myself or the many people that have supported me along the way.

These unavoidable doubts that have been circling around my anxious brain. We all have doubts in life when facing an enormous challenge or attempting something new. Taking risks, allowing ourselves to become vulnerable, feeling nervous and unsure- that is what life is all about. These butterflies in my stomach and frogs in my throat (yes... already) remind me that I'm stretching my boundaries in new, exciting ways. If I reach those cut-off times or not, I know that I have become a new person along the way.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Putting Together the Pieces of My Ironman Journey

2011-05-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

A View from the Cheering Section

2011-05-18T20:24:00.000-07:00

A blog entry from guest writer (and my amazing dad) Carl Cindric:

This week, Emilie asked if I could share a father's perspective on her goal of completing an Ironman just a few years after her battle against Stevens Johnson Syndrome.

The two situations are completely different and yet they show the extremes of where life can take you. The Ironman and SJS have been the Alpha and Omega of my daughter's physical life. As a father I will take immense pride when the horn sounds and Emilie jumps in the water for the first leg of the Ironman. As a father I've also felt the despair seeing my daughter fight for her life and feeling like there was nothing I could do to help her. Now I know where the gray hair really comes from.

By competing in the Ironman, Emilie has lived the mantra that we as parents tried to teach her at an early age. Set a goal... Determine what's required to achieve that goal... Do the training needed to achieve the goal... NOW GO FOR IT!! Emilie's success will not only be measured in time splits and finishing rank, her real accomplishment will be measured in what she has learned about herself as she has prepared for this monumental challenge.

The first time I entered Emilie's hospital room and saw her in a coma I couldn't wrap my head around the surrealistic scene. I was overwhelmed with the total devastation of Stevens Johnson Syndrome. I searched for a simple component to that situation that I could understand. I needed something, anything, to ground my emotions.

As the dawn breaks over Coeur D'Alene, my wife and I will join Dave's parents and every other spectator to cheer on the Ironmen and Ironwomen jumping in the lake that chilly morning. We will cheer their determination, we will cheer their fortitude, we will cheer their resolve to push their bodies to a point that most of us simply can't understand.

And we will give a special cheer for a young woman who has traveled an unbelievable journey. Emilie, we love you and support you... and we will be at the finish line with open arms.

Thanks Dad! Love you too!

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF-Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Our Saturday Century... and then some

2011-05-09T21:09:00.000-07:00

For this week's blog post, I thought I would take you on our Saturday 100 mile bike ride/three mile run. I packed my camera in my bento box, along with my many gels and bars, so I could take pictures of all of the beautiful places Dave and I were able to see. For those of you that are from the Denver area, you will be able recognize some of these landmarks and locations. Those of you not from here will be able to see the beauty of the greater Denver area.

Before we even set out, I had an unfortunate allergy problem. As I was getting my bike ready for the ride (pumping up the tires, greasing the gears), I experienced an allergic reaction in my eyes. They were swollen, stinging, and blood-shot. This was not Stevens Johnsons Syndrome, but just a typical springtime allergy. That being said, my biggest concern was with taking medicine to treat the allergic reaction. Considering that I don't know what caused my SJS, I try to stay away from all medicines when I can.

Dave had to go to Walgreens to get some allergy medicine while I laid on the couch with an ice pack over my eyes. Dave questioned the pharmacist on the possibility that a medication would cause Stevens Johnson Syndrome before he purchased anything. When he got home, we researched the medicine he chose further on the internet. We were even tempted to call my sister-in-law, Sarah, who is an amazing doctor in Wisconsin, but decided we had enough information for me to take the drug. After about an hour, the swelling went down and we were finally able to leave for our ride. We did not get out of the house until 11:30.

Mile 0- Starting out from our townhome in Southeast Denver.

Mile 7- View of the Denver Performing Arts Center as seen from the Cherry Creek Bike Path

Mile 9- Dave at Confluence Park by the REI Flagship Store

Mile 10- Go Broncos!

Mile 22- A mid-ride seat adjustment

Mile 22- Hudson Gardens in Littleton, a great place to refuel

Mile 30- Beautiful Chatfield Reservoir

Mile 35- Starting the climb up Deer Creek Canyon

Mile 55- Finally made it to the top... lively downtown Evergreen

Mile 56- Beginning the fast decent into Morrison via Bear Creek Canyon

Mile 60- Lair o' The Bear Open Space (a place my mom and I would "hike" when I was recovering from SJS)

Mile 65- The entrance to Red Rocks Amphitheater

Mile 65- The Incredible Red Rocks

Mile 70- Slightly lost at Bear Creek Lake Park

Mile 70- A view of the Denver skyline from the front range

Mile 75- We even rode to the top of a "high point" for good measure- Mount Carbon (5,772')

Mile 101.6- A pretty slow average pace, but considering the 3,700 vertical feet of gain and an early morning allergic reaction, I'll cut myself some slack

Mile 0- Not quite done yet... On our way back out after the ride for a quick 3 mile run (if you look closely you can see some sweet bike short tan lines)

We had a wonderful weekend in the breathtaking Colorado outdoors. Dave and I are so fortunate to be surrounded by the majestic mountains and peaceful scenery along the front range. I encourage you, wherever you may be, to take full advantage of all of the natural beauty that surrounds you.

In fundraising news, we have raised $1,000 for the University of Colorado Burn Center. This money will help to support burn patients and their families, as well as to spread awareness about SJS and other types of burns treated in the Burn Center. Thank you so much for all of your generous contributions. With 48 days left until the Ironman race, I look forward to seeing how much more we can raise together!

Help to continue our fundraising efforts by linking to either this blog or the University of Colorado Foundation site from your Facebook page or personal blog. A BIG thank you to Angie Caruso for highlighting this fundraiser on her blog, The Ripple Affect. Angie highlights a different charity every week in her posts and this week, with the help of Karen Trone, showcased our Burn Center fundraiser and helped to build awareness of Stevens Johnson Syndrome.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF-Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Reaching Out to Reach my Goal

2011-05-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

Stevens Johnson Syndrome was a very isolating disease for me. I felt so alone as I tried to comprehend what had happened to my body and how it could potentially happen again.

When I awoke from the coma, I was surrounded by loved ones telling me stories about myself that I did not experience with them. I was in an induced dream world while they were sharing the horrifying experience of watching my body slough off much of its skin. After we returned home from the Burn Center, Dave would try to tell me stories about the breathing tubes, feeding tubes, bandage wraps, and injections, but I felt like I could never understand it the way he and my family did. I had so many questions, yet seemed so removed from the answers, like the entire ordeal happened to someone else. I was asleep while they watched, gowned and gloved at my bedside, as my body fought to stay alive.

Upon returning home, I would ask my mom or Dave to research Stevens Johnson Syndrome on the internet and to read to me what they found. Each website revealed the extreme rarity of this life-threatening disease. I tried to find others that I could relate to, that could help me understand what I was experiencing, yet my results were slim. Beyond a few informational sites and one small foundation, very little else was out there for me. There was not a support group to attend, a motivational survivor to listen to, a 5K to walk, or the right color ribbon to wear. I didn't understand what I had and the doctors, as amazing and knowledgeable as they were, were unable to give me definitive answers. They did not know what caused this and they did not know if it would return.

As friends would call to get updates, they were confused by my condition. They would speak horrifically about the research they had done on the internet and the pictures they saw on Google, yet I could not help to explain anything. At this point, I was still blind and on the couch, hoping to heal from a disease I did not understand. I quickly tried to change the subject with them, deflecting attention from my embarrassing, weak, scarred condition. My family told me my skin had fallen off in the Burn Center and had now begun to heal, but I could not see and did not know what this meant.

When I returned to teaching after two months of sick leave, I did not tell anyone the extent of my condition. To the students, I said that I was sick and that I was much better now. To staff, I told them that I had a very rare allergic reaction and little else. I did not want them to do the same internet research, discovering the truth about this terrifying disease. Then, at lunch, I would lock the door to my classroom and sleep at my desk out of exhaustion. I would put band-aids on my fingers to hide the nails that were falling off, trying not to scream if I snagged one on a desk during a lesson. I would wear my hair the right way to cover the bald spots and put in eye drops every chance I got to tolerate the burning pain.

It took years to actually open up to people about what happened to me. Vague answers started getting more specific and I began to speak freely about the pain and the fear I'd experienced. Now, as evident on this blog, sharing the details of my condition is something I can do comfortably. My willingness to share helps me to create a resource I did not have during my own recovery... a survivor reaching out to help educate me about Stevens Johnsons Syndrome and support me through my darkest times.

I now accept a responsibility to future patients with Steven Johnson Syndrome. I must talk openly about what happened to me in order to help them understand that they are not alone. Part of the purpose of my blog is to begin that discussion and disclosure. The more people that know that this disease is out there, the less isolated and confused someone will feel that gets it in the future. When ready, we need to share our stories to fulfill our part as a community of survivors.

I am also a SOAR (Survivors Offering Assistance in Recovery) volunteer at the University of Colorado Hospital's Burn Center. I am trained to talk to burn patients and their families from the perspective of a survivor. While the other SOAR volunteers experienced external burns, I offer a unique experience as an SJS/TENS survivor. While I am not a medical expert, this peer support can help give guidance and outreach to those that need it most.

This fundraiser helps to fund programs like the SOAR volunteer program, community outreach on burn information, and support for the families of burn patients. It is important that these patients do not feel alone and have a chorus of support surrounding them during their physical and mental recovery.

I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to the Optimist Club of Monaco South. Collectively, they were able to raise $400 for the Burn Center under the leadership of my generous father-in-law, Dick Nickoloff. Thank you so much for helping to raise awareness of Stevens Johnson Syndrome and supporting patients and families going through difficult times.

Dick and Dave at the finish of the Denver Half Marathon!

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

This Seemed Like a Good Idea Five Months Ago

2011-04-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

The amount of Ironman training Dave and I put in on a daily basis has really started to get out of hand. It consumes every free minute that we have. When we are not working or fulfilling other responsibilities (graduate school in my case, coaching soccer in Dave's), we are either on the bike, in the water, or slogging down the paths around our home. At the end of my workouts, I do my obligatory stretches, shower, eat an alarming amount of calories, and then fall asleep far too early on the couch, only to have Dave remind me that I would probably be more comfortable in bed. Then, right in the middle of a dream where I am most likely either swimming, biking, or running, the alarm clock goes off and the routine starts again: work, train, eat, sleep.

Our social life has come to a screeching halt. Even when we do go out to the occasional dinner, our ability to maintain an interesting conversation is uncharacteristically low due to the constant exhaustion and soreness. The mountains, which we once explored almost every weekend, are now enjoyed only from a distance on the running path. Our home, which is usually neat and orderly, has become an absolute disaster area of training gear, dishes, and piles of mail. I almost took a picture of our kitchen table to show you the state of things, but then decided against it out of absolute embarrassment.

This is an overview of next week's training, to give you some idea of the amount of time and energy we are putting into this race:

Monday: Rest Day
Tuesday: Swim 68 laps (2.1 miles), Run 7 miles
Wednesday: Bike 12 miles, Run 2 miles
Thursday: Swim 68 laps (2.1 miles), Bike 21 miles hills
Friday: Swim 68 laps (2.1 miles), Run 7 miles
Saturday: Bike 96 miles, Run 3 miles
Sunday: Run 17.5 miles

I guess the obvious question pertains to the reasons why someone might put themselves through this seven month ordeal. Is this all for a t-shirt, a medal, and the ability to add Ironman on one's list of accomplishments? I promise you, if that were where the benefits of doing an Ironman ended, I would have thrown in the towel months ago.

There is something empowering about gearing up your body to its absolute peak fitness level and pushing it to its limits. You realize new things about yourself at mile 80 that are not revealed to you at mile 25. It is invigorating and exciting to commit your whole physical and mental self towards accomplishing a task where failure is a possible outcome. So often in our lives, we try to protect ourselves from failure by never asking too much of ourselves. Training and racing an Ironman goes against these safer principals and calls for us to take risks and test our abilities.

Everyday we explore new parts of the world and ourselves. Our lives are filled with curiosity and wonder. We continue to evolve into new and, hopefully, better people. Pushing ourselves, testing our limits, and taking risks is a part of that process. Even if we fail externally, we have still succeeded in our own personal growth. Our accomplishment lies not at the finish line, but privately within.

Try something new outside of your comfort zone. It doesn't have to be an Ironman by any means, but I do hope that it involves taking risks and discovering new things about yourself. Go forward with confidence and commitment. Uncover all of the amazing things you are capable of!

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or your could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

My Support Crew

2011-04-11T22:01:00.000-07:00

While buying new tires for my bike this week, the sales clerk asked what race I am preparing for (a frequent question for me these days). When I mentioned the Coeur d'Alene Ironman, he immediately became excited. He shared that he also competes in Ironman races and would like to qualify for Kona some day. As he was selling me tires, he suggested that I buy new ones for my bike and keep an extra set on hand the day of the race with my support crew.

My support crew? I started to laugh. Amateurs like me don't have support crews. People make assumptions that just because I'm doing an Ironman I'm some sort of accomplished athlete that stresses over mile splits and cadence, with a coach and physical therapist on hand at all times. Nope, not this triathlete. My best marathon time is a 4:20 and I have only done two triathlons in my entire life. I am more concerned with the cut-off times of the race than what the professionals will be doing. A support crew is hardly necessary for slower "athletes" like me.

Yet this concept of a support crew resonated with me. Maybe I did have a support crew after all...

I think about the half Ironman I completed last June. My "support crew" was there beside me every step of the way. My dad made bright orange t-shirts for himself, my mom, and my in-laws to wear so that they could be easily seen while Dave and I completed the race. As I treaded water waiting for my swim wave to start that day, I looked toward the shore and saw a big group of orange cheering me on.

These are the same people that have attended most of our other marathons and races. My dad has actually attended all of the marathons I have completed. They have always been there, with water, words of encouragement, and a GU-shot on hand. They have never questioned my motivation or judged me for making these huge commitments to races, but rather stand proud of the woman I have become.

And then I thought of Dave, who has helped me throughout all of my training. He has offered advice, motivation, and helped me refocus when I've needed it most. He has completed almost all of my workouts with me, pushing me forward and helping me finish training sessions and races, even when I felt like giving up.

And Karen, my best friend since the age of five. She is always ready to run any race with me, giving me encouragement mile after mile. I remember setting the goal of completing a marathon after having Stevens Johnson Syndrome. She asked me which race I wanted to do and made it a priority to be there, in Las Vegas, with me and Dave throughout the entire race. The three of us crossed the finish line together, arms raised, having shared a special accomplishment between us.

I think about the role these people played when I had Stevens Johnson Syndrome. They sat in my room in the Burn Center, along with my sister, supporting me every step of the way. Even though I was in a coma, their loving voices would enter my dreams. When I went home from the hospital, they were there at our townhome helping me recover one day at a time. Karen and I watched Anne of Green Gables curled up on the sofa, my mom and I would go on short walks together every morning, my dad would bring me much needed ice cream to sooth my blistered lips, and Dave would hold me nightly as I cried.

I think about what that sales clerk asked, about my support crew. I absolutely have one for the day of the Ironman and a lifetime beyond. I am so fortunate to have a group of people that care so deeply about me.

We all have support crews in our lives. Are we fully aware of them? Do we share with them our appreciation and thanks? In what ways can we support them in return?

These are the questions that have stayed with me this week. To my support crew during the Ironman, Stevens Johnson, and an entire life of ups and downs, thank you so much for holding me up every step of the way.

Some of the proceeds of this fund-raiser are going to help to the support crews of Stevens Johnsons Syndrome patients in the University of Colorado Burn Center. Many of these support crews are from out of town, staying for multiple weeks, and without any family or resources in the Denver area. Your donations will help to make sure that they are given assistance during this difficult time.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field choose "Other and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)."

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Rediscovering What's Important

2011-04-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months, the stress in my life has been growing. With Ironman training for multiple hours every day, graduate school work constantly building up, and budget cuts in my field of education, I have been drained and unsatisfied. My workouts have been uninspired, my papers for grad school have been lackluster, and my enthusiasm at work has diminished.

This past week, my husband and I travelled to Ambergris Caye, a small island off the coast of Belize, with my parents. This location is well known for its snorkeling adventures, Mayan ruins, and breathtaking tropical setting. Every day we woke up to the sun shining over the sea with cool breezes blowing through swaying palm trees. We were able to enjoy each other's company while exploring the islands: swimming with sharks and sting rays, reef fishing, manatee viewing, etc.

Dave and I tried to keep up with our training somewhat by going on island runs or completing some longer ocean swims, but I would say we pretty much took a week off of training. This is very unorthodox to most serious athletes. Training schedules are meant to be strictly followed to maximize one's fitness level; taking a week off is a huge setback.

Yet on the 75 mile bike ride the day after we got back from our trip, I felt the best I have in months. My mind was clear and focused, my body energized and strong. I find myself actually looking forward to the 14.5 mile run I am about to go on in a few hours. I am refreshed and balanced.

While I know that taking a week off training is not advisable and that I will not be able to take such a hiatus again before the Ironman, this past week helped me to reflect on how my mental energy has been poorly spent. In the last few months, I have allowed negative stress to overcome my productivity... and my well-being.

Right after a life threatening illness like Stevens Johnson Syndrome, there is a reevaluation of one's values. The daily stress we experience is minimized and the bigger picture is fully understood. Love, happiness, and appreciation become the center of our priorities. What a gift! Yet as we get further from that experience, the clarity is lost. The "daily grind" seeps back into our existence and stress is created from meaningless things.

Belize helped me to recenter myself. Over the course of the week, my stress dissolved and my core values were in focus once again. While I can't always afford an international tropic vacation or have the ability to put all of my responsibilities on hold for a week, I do need to become better at finding time and methods for realigning myself with what is truly important on a more consistent basis. I cannot allow myself to drift from the most meaningful and fulfilling parts of my life: family, friends, and the joy of living.

Some people do yoga, others get massages or go on hikes in the mountains. We all need to find regular ways to let the meaningless stress drain from our bodies, leaving us with a crystal clear focus on the most significant aspects of our lives. While I will not be going back to Belize any time soon, I will embrace my new resolution to refocus myself more regularly on what is truly important in my life. This does not mean that I will give up on training or on school, but rather that I will move forward with a better sense of balance and perspective than before.

I encourage you to take some time for yourself. Rediscover what is truly important in your life. Let the daily stress you carry fall away and center yourself on the love and happiness that surrounds you.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the Designation field choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)".

Or you could mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 East 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Overcoming Fear

2011-03-20T20:59:00.000-07:00

When I first came home from the Burn Center after my induced coma, I was scared of everything. The doctors did not know what caused my TENs reaction, so no matter what I came in contact with, there was an underlying fear. Although most Stevens Johnson Syndrome reactions are to a medication or a virus, we really had no idea. I was skeptical of all new products that were in my vicinity: soap, foods, lotion, medications... anything. I felt that another reaction would happen at any moment.

My fear was so consuming that I joined a group where survivors of all sorts would talk about their difficulty in coping with the stress of their experiences. Dave would accompany me once a week to this group where we would listen to people share stories of their struggles and small successes. Cancer survivors would talk about their fear of remission and veterans would discuss the lingering impact of their service in their everyday life. While seemingly a random group of people, our lives were connected by our inability to move forward from a place a debilitating fear.

In our weekly sessions, they asked us to identify the source of our fear. What am I really scared of? After much discussion, I came to the conclusion that I was scared that my body was trying to kill me. They asked me how I came to that conclusion. I responded that my skin sloughed off, my hair fell out, and my nails fell off... all evidence of the fact that my body was trying to kill me. My health was no longer a source of strength, but an overwhelming weakness to which I was powerless to control.

They asked me to dig deeper- was my body really trying to kill me? My skin healed, my hair and nails grew back, I became stronger every day. How can this be the same adversarial body that was intent on my end? They helped me realize that my body was doing the exact opposite of my original fear. My body was fighting to keep me alive. Throughout my TENs experience, my body had the strength and resilience to fight for my survival.

This realization/transformation was endlessly empowering. I was amazed at the ability of my body to fight this beast and recover. It is true that what I am allergic to is still out there, that some unforeseen mistake may cause TENs to return and I will be fighting for my life in the Burn Center once again. Yet I am filled with confidence that my body will do everything it can to keep me alive.

The human body is amazing. My dad just did his first triathlon despite the arthritis in his feet. My sister deals with the fear and uncertainty of undergoing repeated knee operations, yet keeps a positive outlook and remains optimistic. My friend Marilyn overcame breast cancer and continues to be her kind, caring self. We all have our stories of struggle and survival. Something is out there that could hurt us at anytime, be it an allergic reaction, cancer, or anything else. But that does not define us. What defines us is our fighting spirit of survival and our commitment to growth. It is impossible to stave off death; it's inevitable. But I refuse to live my life in fear and rather embrace the opportunities for love and adventure every day.

Ask yourself the questions that were asked of me. Is there something holding you back? What are you scared of? Then dig deeper- what is the source of that fear? We are amazing individuals that can achieve wonderful things by believing in ourselves and letting go of our doubt.

To donate to the Burn Center, go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the Designation field choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)".

Mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 E 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045.

Finding Productive Ways of Passing the Time

2011-03-13T19:51:00.000-07:00

My friend and colleague Audra is currently training for her first marathon and came to ask my advice about how to keep from boredom when spending mindless hours exercising. Any good coach would tell her to think about her form, to visualize herself on race day, to keep track of her pace, etc. Although this would probably improve my performance, this is not the approach that I take when exercising.

I asked the same question as Audra to my friend Karen years ago when she was training for her first Ironman. What did she think about during a six hour bike ride? How could she swim 80 laps in a 25 meter pool and not go completely insane? Her response laid the foundation for my own approach to keeping my mind busy during exercise. I find it one of the most productive aspects of my workout.

Karen revealed that for every mile of her run, she thought of someone different that she loved. She would focus on the amazing qualities of that person for the entire 9ish minutes, and then when the mile changed, she would move on to another loved one. This helped her get through many long runs and I immediately adopted her strategy.

When I swim, ride, or run, for each mile or lap, I focus on a different loved one in my life. I think about their amazing qualities, all of the ways they have helped me grow as a person, and all that I can learn from them as I evolve. Sometimes I think of favorite memories with this person or points in their lives when they have really revealed their inner strength and grace. The time goes by amazingly fast and my heart is fuller when I am finished.

I have been practicing this mental exercise for over two years. I have since moved from just merely loved ones to more specific categories. Each workout I do now has a different theme: the most creative... courageous... intelligent... thoughtful... etc... people I know. I spend my entire workout thinking about their special qualities, being thankful for their presence in my life, and learning from their distinguished example.

For me, having a life threatening illness really heightened the value of the relationships within my life. SJS has elevated my sense of appreciation and admiration for the amazing people around me. I am constantly filled with overwhelming awe of who they are as individuals and gratitude for what they have taught me about life.

To give you an example of what this type of exercising looks like in action, I will tell you about my 13 mile run today. It is no secret that I am looking forward to starting a family eventually. Today, before my run, I was thinking about motherhood and the amazing ability for women to put their own unique spin on loving and caring for their children. When Dave and I set out, I began to think about the wonderful moms I knew. I thought about their special gifts as mothers and what I can learn from them as role models. By the end of my run, I was filled with deeper appreciation of these women and able to learn from their powerful examples. Although I know many wonderful mothers, these were the 13 rock star moms that kept me company on my run today:

I encourage you to try this exercise. Whether you think of a different person each mile, each block, or every few minutes, this reflection will help to open your heart and mind to the exceptional people that surround you. By the end, you will finish feeling humbled by their unique abilities and endlessly fortunate for the relationship you hold with them. You will be overwhelmed with the fullness of your life.

Please support the University of Colorado Burn Center by going to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)".

Setting Goals by Starting Small

2011-03-08T20:47:00.000-08:00

To give you a better idea of what an "Ironman Journey" looks like, I thought I might share with you what our weekly workouts are these days. Dave is a high school teacher and I am a high school teacher-librarian, so we fit in these training sessions before and after school. Dave is also coaching soccer and I am in graduate school, so sometimes this can make for some very late nights.

Monday- Our one sacred rest day of the week

Tuesday- Swim 56 laps (2.8 km), run 7 miles

Wednesday- Bike 13 miles, run 2 miles

Thursday- Swim 56 laps (2.8 km), bike 25 miles

Friday- Run 7 miles

Saturday- Bike 70 miles, run 4 miles

Sunday- Run 13 miles

Although this seems overwhelming at times (and we're only halfway through our training schedule), for every ride and run I go on, when I pass our mailbox, I am reminded of how far I have come. Our mailbox is a very short walk from our door. When I first came home from the University of Colorado Burn Center after being in an induced coma from SJS, my entire body was weak. I was blind, losing my fingernails and toenails, and patches of my hair were falling out. Even swallowing was a struggle.

I made it a goal to eventually walk to the mailbox. Every day, I would do stretches and strengthening on the sofa with my husband. I would "train" by walking around the house slowly with my mom. Timid steps, hand extended into the unknown, helped me to rebuild my confidence and my ability. Stepping out into the sunlight one September morning, my mom and I made it to the mailbox. Then, many days later, we made it to the end of the block, then down the street, then beyond...

My eyesight was saved thanks to the amazing work of the Rocky Mountain Lyons Eye Institute. My nails and my hair returned. My body became stronger every day. No matter how far I have come from that girl freshly out of a coma, that mailbox will always hold special meaning to me. I pass by it every day when leaving for my rides and my runs, reminding me of a time when every step was a struggle. Whether your ambition is the metaphorical mailbox outside your door or an entire Ironman, we all set goals to challenge ourselves and grow. With commitment, determination, and patience, you can achieve anything.

Please support the University of Colorado Burn Center by going to www.uch.edu/donate. In the designation field, choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)".

From the University of Colorado Burn Center to Ironman Training

2011-03-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

In August 2007, I was admitted into the University of Colorado Hospital Burn Center with Stevens Johnson Syndrome from an allergic reaction to a still unknown allergen. My case was severe enough to be labeled Toxic Epidermis Necrolysis, with more than 60% of my body covered in an extreme rash. The doctors at the burn unit placed me in an induced coma for ten days while they monitored the sloughing of much of my skin. I also had three amniotic membrane surgeries to help my eyes heal through this difficult process.

Four years later, my husband, Dave, and I are planning on completing the Coeur D'Alene (Idaho) Ironman June 26th. An Ironman entails swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles, and running 26.2 miles. We started a seven month training program in November 2010 and are currently about half way toward our goal. In this blog, I will keep an update of our training progress, while also reflecting on my experiences with SJS.

Throughout this process, I hope to raise both awareness of SJS and money for the Burn Center. If you would like to donate to the Burn Fund at the University of Colorado, you can do so by mailing a check or going online.

Mail your check to "UCHF- Burn Fund (Team Emilie)" to UCHF 12401 E 17th Ave. Mail Stop F485 Aurora, CO 80045

Or go online to www.uch.edu/donate. In the Designation field choose "Other" and type "Burn Fund (Team Emilie)".

Here are a few pictures from the past few years so you can get to know me a little better: