Going the distance

The Swim
I took a few deep breaths, stretched my arms by doing some large circles, pulled on my goggles and jumped into the water. There was a sea of green caps before me, sprinkled with a few pink caps. I swam to the middle of the field and dipped my face three times blowing bubbles to get myself calm. You can hear everyone on the bridge cheering, I thought I saw our cheer shirts, but I didn't recognize the heads on the shirts. I was treading water as light as I could awaiting for the cannon to go off. BOOM! There it was. I took off at a steady pace, trying to keep a straight line, sighting off the buoys so I didn't get too far off course.

Mass starts don't freak me out. I had someone knock my goggles off, to which I had to stop to get them re-situated. By this time they were starting to fog a little bit despite the anti-fog I had used. I got punched a few times, had to swim over a few people and people swam over me. Just the nature of the beast. I was surprised how many people would swim diagonally in front of you from right to left. Given their course, they would be way off course in a short amount of time.

I made it to the Rural bridge and started to look at the numbers on the buoys. I'm never as far along as I feel like I should be. By this time there weren't people on shore and it was pretty quiet. The buoys start to curve out to the right and then back into the left. If I were to swim in a straight line it would be more efficient, but it would cut the course. I saw a lot of people doing this, but I swam to the outside of the buoys as we were instructed. I was paranoid that I was kicking too hard, so I kicked a little less. I was surprised that my wetsuit didn't bother me at all.

Finally the fucking first turn buoy, then the 2nd one. Now heading back to the shore. I was at 47 minutes, which I was fine with. However, this first look at my watch was a bad idea. Because now every buoy I'm reaching I'm stopping to look at my watch. I know better than this, I know this slows me down. Never fails. I get so impatient in the swim, I get so bored and just ready to be done. But the more I stop to look around the slower I get and the farther behind my goal time I am. I swim by the stadium and start singing the ASU Fight Song in my head. Then Chris and I realize we're swimming right next to each other. We would spend the next .75 miles taking turns taking the lead. I just couldn't keep steady, I kept stopping and looking to see how far I had to go; looking behind me to see how many people were still back there. Not sure why, didn't change the distance I still had to swim. The last turn buoy to the steps is the longest few 100 meters of my life. The steps just never seem to get closer until I finally see the steps. I'm pissed this swim took me 15 minutes longer than it should have and 30 minutes longer than it could have, but at this point I'm just glad to be in well before the cut off.

T1
I had to pull my watch off before I could take my wetsuit off (it was outside my suit) and the people were very nice pulling my suit off. I had stories about how they shove you on the ground, so I was fearful of a beating, but I think at the end it's slower and they have more time to help you. I heard my name as I ran into T1. I think I saw John, Klayton and his mom, but I really can't be sure. I just remember smiling and pumping my fist because I made cutoff 1.

I met Deb and her daughter and had valet service. It's all really a blur. I remember rinsing my feet off, Deb trying to get my shoes on, her daughter spraying me with sunscreen, changing my shirt. Thank you so much ladies for getting me in and out so quickly.

I ran through the bikes and there was David waiting for me. He was taking photos and video, felt like the paparazzi was following me! I saw some friends as I was mounting the bike, based on the photos I have I think it was Robert, Andrea, Heather and Klayton.

                                                   Bike turnaround, Bee Line and Shea

Bike
I started out on the bike at a steady pace. I was mindful not to go out too hard too fast. It's flat so it's easy to do. I pulled out my inhaler and got three puffs in and then it slipped out of my hand and bounced into the gutter. fail. Then I felt like my tire was flat so I stopped to look at it. I had encountered the flat tire in transition that morning so I was fearful that it had gone flat again. Turns out it was rock hard and I was just imagining things.

I thought I was going to think about the times in college when we drove to Payson for AKPsi retreats, but I didn't. I thought I was going to think about my training rides, but I didn't. I thought about nutrition, changing gears, passing and aid stations.

The first 20 miles I battled a cramp. It must have been a result from the swim as I've never got one there before. It was at the top of the back of my left thigh into my groin. I didn't know how I would stretch it so I decided to up my salt and try to work through it.

On the way down the Bee Line I decided to use my weight to my advantage and hit the downhill pretty good to make up for the slow up hill. This caused my adductor to cramp a little when I got off the downhill so I was working through that cramp too. I started singing "Fuck you cramp, you can't stop me" to the tune of the Thunder Song from Ted. Finally coming back into town the cramps started to go away.

I was on schedule the entire bike with my nutrition and hydration. Coming into bike aid 4 there was a guy in front of me that I was mindful of. He was going through slow, I grabbed a water behind him. Then the asshole came to a complete stop in the middle of the line and I had to swerve to the left to miss him. I just barely made it past him with 1/2 inch to spare without hitting him. I really think Ironman should offer a bike aid station practice before the race for all those people who have never done one before. In true form, there were people out there that this was their FIRST triathlon ever. sigh.

At the turnaround of loop 2 I saw my parents, Brian, Steph and Jen. It made me smile. On the way down the Bee Line this time the wind was pretty strong so it wasn't as fast going down the hill. I stopped at an aid station because for the first time, I couldn't pee on the bike. I knew it was time to go so I decided to stop. I had also heard, don't trust a fart on an Ironman and I felt like the exiting of gas (that much salt makes me gassy) was becoming like Russian roulette at this point and I needed to stop. It was rough getting off the bike because I was more cramped than I thought. A nice AZ Tri team helped hold my bike as I stretched. Turning back into town I saw Ryan and Sass and it was a great spot to see people because it was still another 10 miles into town.

The 2nd turnaround in town I saw Marti and Chris and they made me laugh running along the road taking pictures. I saw Andrea, Heather, Andrea's mom, Kerry and Danny. I heard other screams of my names, but I really couldn't tell who it was.

The 3rd loop going up the hill was a lot more desolate. The penalty boxes were taken down. I always said slow people don't get penalties. I never had thoughts about wanting to be off the bike. I enjoyed every mile, even when it was a challenge. The wind going up the hill wasn't bad, but it was strong coming back down. With a few miles left on the bike I passed a guy struggling. I told him smile, we had made the cut off with an hour to spare and we'd be happy to see our running shoes. He laughed. I then told him to check with me about 2 miles into the run, I bet I'd want to be back on my bike.

T2
Brenda met me in T2 and helped me get changed for the run. As soon as I put on my running shoes I thought "fuck" because they were too tight. My feet had swelled more than I anticipated. I had 1 long bricks coming off full training rides, but my feet had never been that swollen. My toes were hitting the top of my shoes and the laces felt snug. Thank you Brenda for getting me on my way!

I came out of the run and there was my race shadow, David. It put a huge smile on my face. He was again taking pictures. I can't even remember what we talked about as he ran me out of transition, but I was glad to have him there.

As I came under the bridge, there was Sarg (Robert). Like clockwork he met me to pace me out to aid 1. I was having a hard time breathing. Usually I would have taken my inhaler on the last few miles in on the bike. Not having it, I should have sat in transition and taken it. Transition gets you breathing fast by nature. But no, I didn't think about that and now I'm trying to catch my breath and take my inhaler as I'm running. Fucking stupid idea. It would then take me 3 miles to get my breathing back under control.

I went through aid 1 and saw my mom, dad, Monika and John. John said "this sucks, huh? what's your favorite curse word?" I told him you know, he said scream it loud and say it hurts. I screamed "FUCK THIS HURTS" at the stop of my lungs, in front of my mother, who HATES that word. I'm sorry mom, blame John.

I came back through mile 4 and Robert was there to meet me. He tried to bring me back up to pace, I looked up and saw people across the lake from me. Miles ahead. It looked so far away as I had to run a "U" before I even got to where they were. Several friends told me I needed to keep a 16 minute pace, which seemed impossible to me. Fuck, I had just stopped running 16 minute half marathons a few months prior. How in the fuck was I supposed to run an ENTIRE marathon at that pace. I immediately fell into a DEEP, DARK hole that I would never climb out of. I wouldn't even realize what a deep hole I was in until I hit mile 24.

I made my way around to the other side of the lake and Sass came out and met me. My coach had sent her to run with me to bring me back up to pace. I don't really remember much about conversations, but I remember muttering this was impossible. Sass tried to convince me it was possible, but my heard and head couldn't reconcile. We ended up running by Heather and Julie and Sarg and they came along with me, trying to encourage me to run with good form. My head is foggy at this point and it's just one foot in front of the other. I think I was starting to get pissy with people, so for that I apologize. I heard some guy running the other direction say "that's a big fat DNF" I wanted to say, you know what pal, I probably am a DNF, so shut your fucking face, but I didn't have the energy.

I think we're about mile 10 at this point. I'm frustrated that Sass is with me and missing Kelly's amazing finish. That made me sad that she was missing it. Embarrassed that I couldn't pick up the pace enough to get everyone to feel comfortable to leave me alone.

The next 7 miles are a complete fog. I remember Andrea, Sarg and Heather being with me. At this point the EFS from the bike is starting to cause everything to shoot right through me. Every aid station is port-o-let, liquids, port-o-let. Let me tell you, port-o-lets on the run course of an Ironman are fucking nasty and I didn't even care as I ran in. At this point I'm having a hard time seeing anything to the right or left of me, I have tunnel vision. My mouth is dry like a desert. My eyes are full of sand and I can't open them more than a slit. I can hear everyone talking to me and I'm replying to them. Although I realize nothing is coming out of my mouth. I can't talk.

It reminds me of the episode of Nip/Tuck where the lady is having surgery, she can't move, but she can feel every single cut. Everyone is telling me to go faster, but this is the only speed I have. I can't pick up the pace. It was like the 2nd loop of the run in Benton Harbor. I was running, at a slow pace and I couldn't get any faster.

We get to the start of the second loop and Chris and Marti meet us. I'm so sad that there's so many people going straight to the finish and I'm going for loop 2. At this point I'm weaving, staggering, can barely open my eyes and my mouth is dry. I have to shit through every aid station as everything goes immediately through me. I'm dehydrated and haven't peed in miles. (Triathlon is a classy sport)

I see David as I come under the bridge and tell him that I don't think I'm going to make the cutoff. Let's be honest, I have no freaking clue what time it is and have no real concept of where I am. He says he's not sure either, but to keep going because he'll be at the finish waiting for me, not matter what time. Sarg is checking my mental stability and asking me questions. I think he asked me my age because I remember looking at my calf at one point. I'm not sure when, but Chrisann joins us. She tells me that David and everyone is talking about me on the walkie every time she sees them. They're so excited for me to come to the finish.

I wasn't having fun anymore. AT ALL. During the swim, transitions and on the bike I was having fun. I could smile and was loving it. The run, all of the run, I hated it. I was a mean person that I didn't think I could be. For those who know me at races, I'm always smiling and saying encouraging words to others. If someone cheers for me I'm thanking them. I'm thanking the volunteers and police. Not this time, I was a bitch and a person I don't think anyone has seen before. I couldn't move my head, I couldn't talk, even crack a smile. It was a total out of body experience. I felt like my brain was working but I couldn't get anything to function how my brain was telling it to.

At this time I remember I wanting nothing else more than for me to pass out. I wanted to fall and hit my head and pass out. I didn't want to have to make that decision myself to stop. I wanted a divine intervention to make it for me. Fortunately, it never happened. I kept moving forward, at a snail pace, but I was moving forward.

I look across the water and tell Andrea I don't think I have it in me to go another 9 miles. I stumble to the bridge again and mile 17. There is a cut off there. The guy tells me I have 35 minutes to get to mile 20. Or something like that. I go past the run aid station and see all my friends and family. I'm told at that point there's a renewed glimmer in my eye. Chris starts running in front of me telling me I can make it. Something comes out of no where and I start running faster. I pass a few athletes on their way to the 20 mile cutoff as well. I'm suddenly aware of where I am and around mile 18 a cart comes up behind us with lights. He says he's the end of the line and he's got supplies if I need anything and to keep going. I'm in agony, but I'm running. I want water but I don't want to slow down to drink it.

He comes back up and tells us that I'm the last athlete with my timing chip, everyone else behind me is done. I keep going, I'm not sure if we've past mile marker 19 already or not. Gina and an Ironman employee run ahead to the next mile marker. I can see it but can't tell if it's a 19 or 20. I am almost there, then my heart sinks. It says 19. I have 7.5 minutes left, the cart comes in front of me and the guy hops out to take my chip. My friend Marti captured the moment if you care to watch: (turn the volume up)

http://youtube/w9QYz3dLZ3M




I'd been here before. It was Ironman KS all over again. I was pissed that I didn't want to be here but was. I was pissed that I was THAT close to a cut off, to an official finish. I tried to process if I could have pushed the run harder. I'm not sure I know the answer to that. The mental darkness had its grip on me, I felt at the time I was doing the best that I could.

At this point the adrenaline is gone. I feel EVERY ache in my body. My feet are throbbing after doing 19 miles in shoes too snug. As you can tell in the video they tell me it's best to stop. That I should stop, that it's smart to stop. I almost said I'll stop since you're telling me I should. I asked the group of friends there with me and they said to do what I wanted to do. FUCK stopping, let's get this bitch done. I ask someone to post on facebook that they took my chip that way people don't stay up until 2 AM in the morning Eastern to watch for something that won't happen.

Sarg carried water for me in his jacket, Chrisann raided the last aid station for snacks to carry for me. Let me tell you, minutes after that cutoff, the signs of the Ironman race are GONE, disappearing into the night. The only sign of a race is the ice trucks and port-o-lets still at the aid station areas. Otherwise, it's empty. Even the tape is off the ground.

At this point it's about getting the last 7.2 miles done. However long it takes. which I'm pretty sure it took 2 hours. Yes, fucking 2 hours. Gina, Chrisann and Sarg are making the trek with me. Never a second went by during that 18:27 hours that I didn't realize how amazingly wonderfully supported I am. I am so very blessed to know such incredible people!

Between 22 and 23 you can hear the crowd going wild for finishers. It's just about time for the last person to come in. You can see the lights of transition across the water from where we are. I teared up thinking about that last person coming across and it wasn't going to be me. I imagined when I finished that nothing would be left except the bleachers. I would have to use my best judgement to find the finish line as the carpet would be long gone, the finisher's arch long disassembled.

At mile 24 Sarg tells me that Brian is going to walk back to meet us and walk the rest in. I come out of the port-o-let and see my mom and Nicole. And then my dad and Jen. And Klayton and Heather. And Andrea. Then at mile 25 I see Monika. And Chris and Kelly - two friends who have previously crossed the finish line and still came out to watch me! I see Sass. It's overwhelming to have my "crew" walking the last 1.2 miles with me; such support and love.

Nothing could prepare me for what I'd see next...