Four years and nearly 10,000 miles before crossing the finish line of the Ironman triathlon on Sept. 8 in Madison, Wisc., Pagosa Springs’ Paula Jo Miller was sitting on the side of a mountain unable to stand.
Moments earlier, skiing with friends in Telluride, Colo., Miller’s skis had suddenly sunk in the snow while her knees “kept going,” and she heard a distinctive pop.
“It’s a pop you hear in your head,” Miller recalled.
Uncertain of the damage, she stood to test the knee but it collapsed, and that’s when she knew, “This is not good.”
Miller scooted herself down the mountain by inches, but she noted her mind was racing: “I don’t want to go through another knee surgery. I need to be active. I’m not good when I’m not mobile.” There was that time she’d been on crutches in the past, and it hadn’t gone well.
By the time she was aloft in a helicopter on her way to the emergency room, Miller’s worry and frustration were still there, but something else was, too.
It was warm and sweet, and Miller wrapped both arms around it.
“I just sat there with my arms around this sweet dog and talked to her,” Miller remembered of the moment. “I just said, ‘Thank you for being here.’ I needed someone to be with me.”
She didn’t know it then, but Miller’s knack for summoning support and gratitude amid dire challenges would become her near-daily mission for the next four years, and one that would eventually propel her across the finish line at one of the sporting world’s most punishing physical tests.
‘I can’t do that’
Miller had experience fixing broken things.
She’d owned her own business as a consultant for fledgling nonprofits, stepping in as a temporary executive director to help turn things around.
“That became my specialty over time,” she said.
So, when doctors told her she had torn her ACL and asked her to consider surgery, Miller knew she would need a plan.
“I just go into problem-solving mode at that point,” she said. “I’m just thinking about what can I do and how can I get this done soon.”
She decided to forego surgery and rehabilitate her knee with the help of a physical therapist in Pagosa Springs. This was 2020, and as the pandemic of COVID-19 gradually shuttered the world, Miller wondered how to stay motivated through the isolation of lockdown.
Also on her mind was her 60th birthday, then four years away, and what she could do to celebrate the milestone.
One day while camping with her husband, Miller was reading a news article about an Ironman triathlon in Idaho when a familiar feeling began creeping in.
It was doubt.
“The race sounded so challenging and like something I could absolutely never do,” she recalled. “My first thought was, ‘No. There’s definitely no way I can do an Ironman.’”
But for Miller, self-doubt was often ground for steely determination to grow.
“Some people are really able to believe in themselves, like they can do anything,” she said. “And there’s a part of me that has a lot of confidence, but there’s also a part of me that doesn’t believe in myself. I have to show myself that I can do it before I get the confidence.”
In her telling, Miller’s husband Lowell puts it more succinctly.
“He totally gets me,” she said. “He always says, ‘If you want Paula to do something, tell her she’s not able to do it.’ Because I love being the underdog.”
Her instinct told her the Ironman was the right thing to do, despite all the reasons to say no. After all, she was 56 years old and nursing a torn ACL. She couldn’t swim a lap in the high school pool without pausing halfway, out of breath. She was asthmatic and anxious.
And yet, a small, persistent voice inside kept saying, “Yes.”
So, for the next four years, with the help of a team that grew to include family, friends, local health practitioners and her coach, Joanna Zeiger — herself a former world champion triathlete — Miller quietly transformed her mind and body as she began training for the race of her life.
The long road to Madison
To complete an Ironman, Miller would need to swim 2.4 miles, cycle for 112 miles, and then run a marathon — another 26.2 miles.
“It was daunting,” Miller recalled.
So, she explained, she and her team set about building a training regimen that focused on consistency and small victories along the way.
While training, Miller completed almost 30 other races — itself a feat, but one that helped her manage expectations as she prepared for the Ironman in Madison.
By her count, Miller swam, biked and ran 9,916 miles preparing for the race — probably more — and though there were hard days, she felt the benefits of her training almost immediately.
Physically, she was stronger. She started feeling more confident, too, and noticed that the little things she used to stress about didn’t have as much pull as they once did, she noted.
“I joked that I just didn’t have the energy to worry … because I was always tired. For four years, I’ve been tired,” she laughed.
Miller started improving in races and cried every time she crossed a finish line.
“I didn’t think I could do that next distance,” she said, tears welling up again. “I just kept doing things that my mind told me I couldn’t do.”
Miller’s mind would continue to test her physical resolve all the way to race day, and even beyond.
‘It is a battle’
As the sun rose over Madison’s Lake Monona — the site of the swim portion of the race — Miller began visualizing the day ahead.
“I like to have time to just sit and quietly visualize the day and how I want it to unfold,” she said.
Gathered with other swimmers and headed toward the lakeshore, she spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
“I see one of my high school girlfriends … and she’s standing there yelling for me,” Miller remembered. “And so, of course, I start crying. I have so much anxiety built up and energy and four years of thinking about this day in my head.”
But as she slid into the waters, all those thoughts drifted away.
“And now you’re just swimming,” she said.
Until April of this year, Miller hadn’t enjoyed swimming and felt like she was floundering through her practice races. By September, she felt like she could finally relax and even enjoy the 2.4-mile course.
“And then in the second 1.2 miles, that’s when I start visualizing the next part of the race and thinking about my bike,” she relayed.
As she peeled off her wet suit and headed toward what would be the most challenging part of the race, Miller was again met with the support she’d come to rely on for the past four years.
“They surprised me and showed up right after my swim,” she recalled. “I turned the corner and there’s my whole family wearing matching T-shirts that say, ‘PJ’s Support Crew. Tri to Keep Up.’”
Miller would need that support for the next 112 miles because, despite her careful planning and training, she said, “You can’t control Mother Nature.”
On race day, riders along the bike course faced a constant headwind and 20 mph gusts of crosswinds through the remote stretches of Wisconsin farmland. For Miller, it was the most grueling and mentally exhausting ride of her competitive life.
“I am just hanging on trying not to get knocked over by the wind while I’m trying to go as fast as I can down a hill, and the roads have potholes,” she remembered. “You can never take a mental break.”
Once again, alone with her thoughts, Miller waged a battle against her own self-doubt.
“There were times I really just thought, ‘I don’t want to do this. What are you trying to prove? Why are you doing this?’ But then the other voice in me is like, ‘C’mon, you can do this.’ So, I’m constantly negotiating with myself and talking myself out of quitting. It is a battle,” she said.
She recited the words that were engraved on a small necklace she’d decided to wear for the race, and that had become her mantra.
“I just kept saying, I’m grateful, I’m thankful, I’m blessed,” she said, and as 10 mile markers ticked by, inching her closer to the Capitol building and streets lined with fans, Miller began to once again believe.
“I’m like, ‘OK, this is great … because I never want to ride my bike again,’” she said, laughing.
Miller had planned to finish her ride in seven hours. By the time she reached the end of the road race and changed into her running shoes, she’d been on her bike for eight hours and 11 minutes.
When she started the run, relief flooding her, Miller described a feeling of “pure joy.”
“I left the bike in the past,” she said, remembering how good it felt having solid ground beneath her feet, hearing cheers through the city. “I was just having a blast. You were never alone, ever.”
Miller said she congratulated herself for having managed her pace and nutrition throughout the swim and bike ride so that, for the final half of the marathon, she could afford to slow down and take in the experience.
“As I hit mile 24 I realized, I’m going to do this. I’m actually going to do this,” she said. “It took all day to believe that I would — and four years.”
Along the sidelines, family, friends and strangers reminded Miller of the beginnings of her dream, and why she chose to chase it.
There was her milestone birthday and the memory of her strong mother, who taught Miller and her sisters that women could do anything that men could; there was her relationship with her own anxiety, which she combats with medication and talk therapy; and of course there was her own inner critic.
Crossing the finish line 15 hours and 44 minutes after starting, Miller stated she recognized it was all fuel for the journey.
“I truly have never felt so much love from my community and my friends and my family,” she said. “That was my fuel, truly. It was just pure love. And love is so powerful.”
The road ahead
The Ironman isn’t the end of the race for Miller.
Back in Pagosa, she is hoping to build a community for women that’s built on mutual support and skill sharing, and raise awareness for mental health.
“We’re working on trying to gather women and bringing them together. Not to lecture them, but to ask them the question, ‘Is there something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t yet done because you didn’t think you could?’”
For Miller, who was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder at age 40, having a community of support was essential to achieving her dream.
“If I can do this, anyone can,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to be the Ironman. I want to reach out to women in our age group to support each other and help each other and encourage each other to try new things.”
That new thing arrives for Miller Dec. 14 — her 60th birthday — when she’ll travel to New Zealand for a half-Ironman at the world championships.
Her support team, whether cheering remotely or along the sidelines, will be there, too.
garrett@pagosasun.com
