Texas Race recap- finally :)

So a month out, I have done a lot of thinking, a lot of crying, a lot of what-if-ing, and in the end, a lot of celebrating.  This has taken me a lot of time and attempts to write.  I hope that someone gets something out of this, and knows that not everyone succeeds... and that in the end, thats ok.  It will only make the next finish more sweet- I hope. 

This is an awkward thing... Not finishing.

Everyone tells you that you were a success, an inspiration, and that they are proud of you, and you know they are being one hundred percent honest.  At the same time, you can't help but think, I didn't finish, they didn't say my name, I'm not an ironman.

It is an emotional roller coaster to say the very least.

I'll start at the beginning.

Race night, very restless, nerves, fixing a toilet that wouldn't stop running, multiple things kept me up, but I estimate I got about a solid 3-4 hours of sleep overall.  By the time morning came, I was ready within minutes.  I had a plan, I felt ready, and we were out the door.  A pit stop at Starbucks and we were on the way to the race site.  (Hindsight #1: stop away from the race site for a potty pit stop- Timberman had an awesome porta-potty setup, Texas did not have nearly enough!)

Park (have a parking plan, we did and it was a good thing, many people were a little clueless about where to be), and we were on our way to transition.  Drop my bottles, check my tire pressure and it was time to go to the swim start.  Here is the thought that entered my brain: we are having a very difficult time organizing ourselves enough to walk in and out of transition and down the sidewalk, how are all 2500+ of us supposed to swim together?

Swim start: aforementioned porta-potty disaster.  Lines for days, no toilet paper already and the race hadn't even started... Oh dear.  The good news is that instead of having a separate station, the body markers were walking up and down the bathroom lines.  Marker up, wetsuit up (water temp 71 degrees), cap and goggles  and a kiss goodbye and I was into the line to the water.

I got in the water, settled into my position and a certain calm swept over me.  They were playing U2 "Beautiful Day"  (the entrance song for my wedding party at the reception) and I couldn't help but get a little emotional, "I made it, I'm here, I'm doing this."  I was so happy... that lasted about 90 seconds.  It lasted through the cannon going off, "Wow!  Here we go!"  Stroke stroke, punch, stroke, punch, breath, stroke, stroke, punch, punch, choke, breath. Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke... holy cow, open water- how did I do that?! Then my 90 seconds were over- what am I doing?  I haven't trained well enough, I'm injured, I haven't put in the mileage, what is wrong with me... dear God... get... me... out...of... here!

That's right, its not all sunshine and rainbows, and during the only part of the event that I have any confidence in, I was melting down, I was ready to quit, seriously?  Fuck.

one two three, breathe, one two three breathe, one two three breathe, one two three site.  REPEAT.  I kept doing that for about 20 minutes.  Long enough to remind myself, you're fine, this is the easy part.  But I seriously had to count my way through it.  I was moving slow, much slower than I was capable of and I knew it.  But I was making progress, I was doing it.  Turn buoy #1- Thank God.... Turn buoy #2, seriously?  Good, I'm doing better  Turn buoy #3.... hmmmm.... I wish I had studied this swim course a little better.... I don't know how long this channel is.  Hmmm... I must be getting close now... This is really cool, so many people running alongside the channel- very neat having a cheering section during the swim.  Its like a high school swim meet all over again.  Hmmm, seriously, how much further, I feel fine, but I'm ready to sprint, turn over the arms, loosen up the legs and get on the bike!  How much.... "Come on Kristin!!!!!"  Hey- was that my husband?  I think that was my husband.  One two three breathe, "You've got this Kristin!"  Yep, that's him... how did he find me?!  God he is awesome... so glad I married him.  One two three breathe, "Only a quarter mile more babe!!!" Jesus... I love him even more, thanks for reading my mind love, time to sprint.  Flip over, couple backstroke strokes, a wave, blow a kiss to the voice in the crowd, flip over and sprint.  (Yep- that's me below- my wonderful husband, measuring, hollering, and taking pictures!)

Now- a nod to the volunteers- I made it to the stairs out of the water and couldn't touch the bottom, so you had to use arm strength to yank yourself up until you find footing on the bottom step.... I shouldn't have worried about it.  As quickly as I got my hands on the railings, I was being hauled in by the volunteers.  A quick thank you and I was off... but not before someone unzipped my suit and yanked it to my waist.  They are awesome!

Into the change tent, more incredible volunteers.  Helping with shoes, socks, anti-chafe, helmet, helping you to not look like an idiot, while conserving as much energy as possible.  Struggling to put your wetsuit in your bag?  Don't worry about that, I got it.  Wow.... thank you thank you thank you!

Out of the change tent and on to the sunscreen.  Now in Texas... this is an important step, one that in hindsight deserved a little more attention than what I gave it.  Volunteers lined up with sunscreen dripping off of medical gloves.  I ran to the first free person, a late teens guy, and asked him to smear me... lets just say, he was less than effective.  Thankfully I stopped at a second person, someone who looked like she had put on plenty of children's sunscreen- and she took good care of my face and neck.  Too bad I didn't have her retrace the path of the adolescent.... more on that at mile 70.

Onto the bike.  Wow, I feel great, what was I freaking out about?!  Mile two, only 110 to go!  Ok....  maybe a hair early to start counting down.  Mile three- pop- left calf- whoa... ouch... oww, what was that?  Shit.... is it stopping?  Yeah, its better.  Ok... we're fine- until you coast with left leg up, the first push down from there... shit... oww.  Ok, don't do that. Coasting with right leg bent from now on.  100 to go.  I'll be fine.  Mile 20- I feel awesome!  Leg has calmed down except for the aforementioned coasting problem.  I have 90 more miles in me.  No problem!  Mile 40- fabulous- feeling great, pace is awesome- close to 17 mph.  I never thought I would be that fast.  I feel great, I'm going to get off the bike.

If I am perfectly honest... I didn't think that I would make the bike cutoff.  The cutoffs were written on my arm, I knew what I needed, but I didn't think I could do it walking into the race.  Now... at mile 50... its real, I'm getting off the bike.  I feel great and I'm almost halfway with lots of leeway.  No way... seriously?  This is awesome!  Turn corner, 30mph headwind... shit... spoke too soon.  Yep. My average dropped like a rock, struggling with hitting a wall while I struggled with the wind.  Not a great combination.  I think my average for the next 20 miles hovered between 11-12 mph.  Dear God...

I started making promises to myself.  You can stop at the next aid station, you can sit down.  You can take a break, you earned it, you still have time.  Then I would get to the aid station and be ok.  Nevermind, water, water, chomps, banana, water.

It was an aid station to aid station race, I no longer even cared how long I had in the race, I cared when the next time I would see a person with a banana would be.

I had also begun to notice my very interesting tan lines... I could see the finger marks from the young guy who slathered on my sunscreen.  Yep... he missed both forearms almost entirely.  I still have very clear tan lines demonstrating his finger marks, my number on my left hand, my garmin complete with tans in the adjustment holes, my hairtie and for my wristband.

Around mile 85 I thought about quitting, I was whooped, the wall had snuck up on me again.  I wasn't sure I had anything left.  The magical electrolyte pills had ceased to be magical.  I thought about it... and realized, if I sit down and call for a SAG wagon.... they will take just as long to get to me and get me into town as it will take for me to get myself in.  Ok.... man up girl... time to push.  And there it was, my 18th wind, and it was enough to carry me all the way back into town with my speed hovering between 15-16.  I was proud, I was going to make it off the bike.  I may actually finish this race!

** For those of you that are trying to figure out which one I am... not the super jacked tan lady... :)

 Into town, onto the cobblestones and by some miracle off my bike without falling on my ass.  The longest I have ever ridden, 112 miles... incredible!  I can't say that I feel good, but I can say I feel high.  Hey!  There is my husband!  He is amazing, how does he keep finding me?!  He jogs alongside me as I clip clip clip along into transition.  A quick kiss, I love you, and I'm off to the change tents.  Clip clip clip, jogging, not fast, but moving.


Then it happened.  I. Sat. Down.  While this works for many people, it was where I fell apart.  I got changed, my transition was long.  I knew I had time so it was ok.  But then I stood up.  Fuck.  Remember that calf?  Yep, its back.  Spasmed so tight I can barely move my ankle.  Perfect, thats ok.  I bought time on the ride.  I can average 16 minute miles.  Plenty of time.  I'm trying to jog along.  Its not working.  I start walking trying to stretch out.  I'm drinking water.  I'm eating bananas.  Its not working.  I need to pick up the pace.  I am two miles in and averaging 18 min miles... this isn't working.

I try jogging again, I'm ready I think.  Nope.  Hamstring on the other leg spasms.  Great.  Now those who know me know that I am not your typical Iron-athlete.  I'm not svelt and smooth, now I'm looking that much better jogging with two malfunctioning legs.  Shit.  This isn't pretty.  I have to walk.  The thought of not making cut begins to cut into my brain... no, I can do this.  Salt.  Nope, magic pills have lost their magic.  Water.  Nope.  Nothing helping.  Only getting worse.  Losing coordination.  Near fall once, lower self to ground.  Take a break.  Get up.  Vision dances.... ooooh vasovagal..... get down get down get down.  Sit back on the curb and within seconds a poor unsuspecting medic has descended upon me.  Taking my blood pressure while I try to explain that I have the right to refuse treatment.... such a good patient.  What a pain in the ass I am.  After a very short and ill effective argument, she takes my chip.... I'm done... my race is over... I have plenty of salt in my body- how do I know??  I can taste it in my tears.... God that was awful.

I convinced her that I was safe to leave alone and I went to find my husband, and cried some more.

The rest of that evening is a blur.  I know we got my bike.  I know I talked to my parents.  I know I cried a lot.  I know I was in shock.  My wonderful hubby took care of everything.  Pizza for dinner, ice bags for things that hurt and things I didn't know hurt.  Sleep.... a 2am shower.  Thinking briefly that I could get on the treadmill in the hotel gym and walk the last 17 miles.  Yeah.... we're talking all kinds of emotional roller coaster.

The month that followed has been strange.  My knee, the one thing that I thought would limit me, didn't bother me for a second during the race. My calf has been an on again off again problem.  I finished two legs of the race and a third of the last leg.  I can do this.  I know I can.  I need to make some changes.  I want to do it again.  I need to do it again.  I need to finish.  Maryland here I come.



This is a succinct version of the race and a very short explanation of the last month of pondering.  Long story short, I love this sport, I love the following, I love the fellowship, I love the training, the blood, the sweat, the tears.  I don't know that I love the Ironman distance, but I do know that I need to finish it once.  My training is not perfect, but I was almost there.  I think with a few changes, I will be there.  I know I can do this.  I am headed to Maryland in Sept, it is just over 3 months away, and I am ready.

I'm not the cheery first timer success story that you always hear.  They don't highlight the DNF's.  But shit happens, and its ok.  I had an awesome race in Texas.  I learned a ton.  I'm ready for my next chance.


**There are a ton more pictures, eventually I will get them all on the same device and I will post a pictures blog**