It’s dark outside. Really dark. And insanely early in the morning. (4:30) I’m not feeling the whole jump-out-of-bed-and-start-your-day thing, and the fact that I have to race an Ironman doesn’t seem to help me want to get going. In fact, it terrifies me. Luckily Ian and I have laid out everything we need for this morning (including breakfast: bagel with cream cheese, juice, yogurt, and a banana) so all I really have to do is eat, brush my teeth, and get dressed.
We leave the hotel around 5:00 to head over to body marking. It seems like a mad house, but luckily Doug and Mary find us within seconds. They leave us with some final words of encouragement even as Doug complains about how hard 2’s are to write. We drop off our special needs bags and head for transition, running into who else but Bill and Roz toting a bike pump; perfect timing since there is already a long line for the few pumps that are provided. After we pump our tires and put our gear on our bikes, we find a good amount of Cyclonauts, pass off the pump, and head inside to stretch, freak out, and put on our wetsuits.
We walk down to the beach through FREEZING wet grass and cold sand; I see a few people wearing slippers or sneakers, and briefly think about jumping them stealing their footwear. I decide against that feeling it would give me bad race karma. A few of us stick together for a few minutes, and then I head into the water alone to focus.
BAM! The gun goes off and I start walking forward. I have to walk, because I feel like I’m in a cattle yard. 2400 people are all vying for the same space. Physics people, two objects cannot occupy the same space! There are so many people that even when I start swimming, it takes me a while to get a good stroke going because I keep touching (aka being hit, pushing, ect) other athletes. Finally I find a great girl to draft off of whose sleeves on her wetsuit are red, making her easy to follow. I stay close to the buoys, which is good until the first turn. I am forced to slow down, and again feel like I’m swimming in a sardine can. I even talk to the guy next to me, that’s right, I talk to someone during the SWIM because all we can do is tread water for a few seconds until we can spot an opening. I catch my draft girl again, and follow her all the way out of the first lap, and then loose her while I grab a cup of water to rinse my mouth out. I’m feeling pretty strong heading into lap two; but unfortunately I can’t catch a draft this lap.
I exit the water and head up the beach, trying to walk because I read that it’s better to walk a bit to lower your heart rate and get your land legs back before jumping on the bike. The wetsuit stripper area is full of sand, which of course I get all over, and have to scrub a bit in the showers to make sure I’m not going to get chaffed everywhere the next several hours. Now the crowd is getting to me, and I start a light jog. As I head into the changing area Kelly is headed out, nice to see a familiar face already! A little girl helps me; dries me off and puts my swim stuff in my bag. As I tug on my pink compression socks another girl says, “Man, you sure aren’t in a hurry, are you?” Nothing like an innocent question to light a fire underneath you! I take off seconds after that.
I run through transition pretty pumped. My rough plan is a 13-hour attack. Conservatively, or what I think is conservatively, 1:30 for the swim, 6:30 for the bike, and 5:00 for the run; figuring I’ll actually go a little faster then that to account for transition times. Right now I’m under 1:30, with a few minutes to spare.
As I jump on my bike I hear my nephews yelling for me. My family rocks! I start out at a good pace, 18ish, and love all the other athletes who comment on my pink socks. The only problem is that I’m so cold; I’m having a hard time getting my food out and opening it. I get to the “hill” up and over the bridge, and pass a ton of people going both up and down. I’m starting to warm up, but trying to be careful not to go too hard- I still have a long day left. A van passes me and I hear “Go Cyclonauts!” Then maybe 15 miles later I round a turn and hear my name being yelled; I’m loving all the support. On the out and back to the half way, I see Ian for the first time. I’m so excited to see him, and he looks strong. I see other Nauts on this stretch too, Kelly, Laura Ray, and Laura Paul, which is much needed support because the road is terrible and the wind isn’t exactly helping.
Yeah! I turned a corner and it’s a fabulous road with no wind. I’m now warmed up, and I’m sailing right along when I realize I have to pee. Badly. In fact, I convince myself that my back is hurting not from riding, but that my kidneys are backing up. I stop at the next aid station and luckily don’t have to wait. Austin Powers, you have met your match. Then it’s back to the grind, with 42 miles to go. I’m feeling pretty good about my intake so far, Cliff bars every 45 min, water, and endurolytes every 2 hours, but I’m feeling the need to switch to shot bloks, so I do. 30 miles to go, and I’m thinking; this is just a Wednesday night ride! I even see a few Nauts on the last out and back, and love the cheering section that was set up there!
Pulling into transition, I am SO happy to get off my bike. I run to get my T2 bag, miffed at why everyone else is walking at this point- you don’t have to ride anymore!!!! Then I consider that there is quite a bit of running in my future, and perhaps I should conserve. I opt not to conserve; running is the fun part! I dash through transition and head out on the run, but my pockets feel really full. I do a quick check, nope, I need everything, and just keep trucking. I’m still on target for 13 hours; my plan was to be out of T2 by 8 hours and I’m a little under that (which is good, seeing as I’ve never run a marathon and don’t know what to expect.) I pass the Cyclonaut cheering section (love you guys!) and a little further down the road I see my family set up right where I expected, this is the first time today that I’ve seen them and I’m pumped! My brother runs with me a few steps, and says I look really strong.
I see Ian again, maybe 4 miles into the run; he’s still looking strong! I do some math and realize that unless he completely bonks, he’s going to beat me. I don’t know how I feel about this. As I’m pondering, I see Kelly running towards me and damn she looks fast! A few miles later I see Paulito, then Kara, then Andrea catches up to me around mile 7 and we fall into step. We start talking, cheering on our teammates as we see them, and before you know it, we’re at the turn around- 13.1 to go! Thank you thank you thank you for running with me! Andrea heads to special needs and I keep trucking, I’m hoping my arm warmers are enough for when the sun goes down. I pass my family again and one of my nephews has pizza. So jealous.
The sun is starting to go down and I pull up my arm warmers. My stomach is starting to feel a little queasy, and I start thinking about maybe grabbing some Coke instead of water at the next aid station. This is when I realize that I’ve been downing shot bloks the entire run. Idiot! I usually run with a gel flask, not bloks! No wonder my pockets felt heavy, I was carrying how many servings of bloks I needed instead of simply grabbing my pre-measured flask in my T2 bag. I silently yell at myself and run through the aid station grabbing only water as usual, now that I’m mad I’m not worried about my stomach.
I see Ian for the last time; he’s STILL looking strong! I look at my watch and realize he’s going to break 12 hours, and I’m so excited for him! I wish I could see him finish. I figure out that I might break 12:30 if I stay strong, but my mind is starting to wander. I get to a section with tons of good luck signs and try to read as many as I can to keep my mind off of running. The one that sticks with me reads “This is easier then Chemo” I think about my mom and start to choke up a bit, and then silently thank her for watching over me today.
I head into the park again, and this time it’s dark. I’m still feeling pretty good considering the day, but the solitude of the park is getting to me. I pass a girl in my age group, and we chat for a while. She asks why there are so many people with my uniform on, and then mentions she wishes she had people to train with; and I am again grateful for all the support from my teammates. I pass her and then it’s lonely again.
With four miles to go she passes me back, and we run together. I feel like I’m going too fast, and I mention that. She agrees, and thinks she will slow down. Both of us pick up the pace.
We pass people left and right; no one passes us. We don’t talk much anymore, but we’re in stride together.
She stops with one mile to go for water, and I don’t look back. I see Totz, and am happy to recognize her in the darkness. She looks great, and I’m happy that everyone still looks so good.
I hear the finish. I see Alvin’s Island, and I pick it up. I pass a guy walking, and ask him how far he thinks we have left. He thinks a quarter of a mile. I ask him why he’s walking, and he smiles and runs with me.
I run into the chute. I have lost the guy.
I smile.
I raise my arms up.
I cross the finish line.
12:22:38.
I am an Ironman.
To my friends, family, and teammates, I greatly appreciate your overwhelming support this year. Thank you for the random phone calls asking how training was going, for showing up for rides even when your season was over, for dinner invitations when we were too tired to cook, for spending your time and money to come watch us race, for following us online and leaving messages wishing us luck and congratulating us. We are blessed to know such love.
To Ian, the instigator of all this madness. One can only climb so high alone, but two, two can climb higher. Through blistering summer heat, gale-force winds, and near-freezing temperatures, you got me out the door. On runs so long the treadmill shut off and we had to re-start, during pool work-outs when I lost count and still had to keep going, and bike rides when the conditions were less (much less) then desirable, you were right there next to me. Thank you for being my rock, my inspiration, my love. You’ve shown me yet again that together, anything is possible.