THURSDAY: We had arrived Wednesday night and after a very rough night of sleep for me (and thus for Tim) I was not at my best. While I tried to get my head into a good place we headed down to the race site. The water was clam and smooth. Transition was right next to the water (not a half mile away- Sorry Rev Maine). No jellies to be seen. Things were going well.
We walked down to the village for registration and got in line.... too many type A athletes ;) Standing in line I chatted with the folks behind me and found that they too were from CT- small world. As we talked more it came out that it was his first Ironman, oh, and his first TRIATHLON. You can imagine the look on my face as I tried not to scare the daylights out of him. He was so confident, so ready. His take, "I'm only going to do this once, I may as well do the big one." Refreshing.
After signing my life away, I donned the Ironman bracelet, got my race gear and chip and went out to my race sherpa- my fabulous husband. As we struggled to get everything together I looked down into my hands and saw my chip strap but no chip. Oh dear God, seriously?! It was lost on the ground staring at me for about 10 seconds... but that was more than long enough for at least a minor heart attack.
We putsed around the village for a couple hours with friends, purchased the last minute necessities (yes, as I was unpacking my bike gear, I realized I was out of hoo-ha ride glide). I was surprised to see such a small number of vendors. Really nothing local- probably related to first year growing pains. The area went from a 170 athlete Chessieman to a 1400+ athlete Ironman. I think that next year we will see an even bigger community appearance- it will be neat to see this race grow into the community.
Now time for the athlete meeting. Wetsuit or no wetsuit was a big ticket item. The water was 76 degrees, right on the cusp- literally. We wouldn't know for sure until race morning. Also worth mentioning was the 20 second spectator rule. No spectator could join you for more than 20 seconds. If they did it was considered outside assistance. They casually mentioned a 1/2 inch of water over the road at high tide, and a set of rumble strips, both on the bike. Ok, so a little excitement, not terrible.
While walking back to the car, we saw the Sparty ROTC vehicle pull into the parking lot. We paused to say hello knowing this would be the fellow I met in Michigan at the Island Lake Triathlon a month ago. Introductions were made, and we found out that he had just driven the bike course. There were water spots all the way up the SUV. The half inch of water at high tide.... was more like 3-4- at the crown of the road. Oh.
Lunch. Nap. Shake out run. We met my folks for dinner- incredible Crab balls. I so wish I hadn't been pre-race, I would have had so much more to eat. Not to mention that my dad had a house-made Eclair that looked about the size of your typical burrito..... yum.
Athlete Welcome- now mind you, I had been to the one in Texas which was a giant pump up party with a served dinner. So I had a certain amount of preconceived notions. We arrived and found the local choir singing (neat to see the community embracing the race and wanting to participate). From there an awesome pump up video, and then the rain started. In typical Ironman fashion we pushed through. Unfortunately the bulk of their athlete speakers had flight delays, but overall was a great experience- although Texas will remain at the forefront of my mind in top Athlete Welcome Ceremonies.
The one thing I did find out about that night was the facebook page that was apparently created for this event. On further investigation, this page had 740 members all of whom had been talking and training (virtually) together. How cool!
FRIDAY: Oh Good Morning Nerves.... slept well with the assistance of some Nyquil. Started the day off accompanying my dad on his run astride my bike. Awesome chance to chat and work through my gears and last minute tweaks. The day was spent horribly mismatched in dayglo get-up and compression socks (much to Tim's dismay). I had a short checklist of things that needed to be done, so off we went.
Driving the bike course. It will never cease to amaze me that when I drive the course I can't help but think, seriously? I have to DRIVE how far? Yet that thought never crosses my mind about the race itself. This one was even funnier, because it was a two loop course- so even less of a drive. Water was, well, water. Whatever. Rumble strips were about a foot wide and stretched on for several miles. Ok, good to know. A little bit of loose gravel, and a little bit bumpy roads, but a beautiful and flat as a pancake drive. Oh, save for one hill... here it is...
Bike Stickered and dropped. As I rolled into transition the place echoed with rapid fire of 3 tires exploding.... those tires I just filled up before riding that morning.... yep, definitely let the air out. (Although I may have gone a little overboard, front tire on race morning was down to 20 psi- ha!)
From there it was on to the village for last minute details and information.
Lunch on the river at a fabulous place called Portside. (I have to write it down so I remember!) Good seafood, all you can eat pasta buffet for the athletes if you so desire, deck right on the river. It was perfect. Now I say fabulous trusting the few bites that I had, oh, and the full meals and appetizers that my family inhaled! Nerves had gotten to my stomach and I was feeling sick. No sense in pushing it. I drank my liquid nutrition that I had been carrying around all day.
We made it back to the hotel and had hatched a plan for the next day (parking, food and drinks, meeting points, etc). At this point, I was hungry. I had leftovers from lunch but I was nervous, what if it didn't sit?! Off to Denny's we went. Egg white omelet with cheddar and mushrooms, hashbrowns, hold the toast. Extra salt. Mmmmmm.
8pm, Nyquil and goodnight.
RACE DAY:
Up and at 'em really early- 3:15.... Holy Dark. Dressed, greased, chipped and on our way. Coffee and then to the race. Nutrition mixed and packed. Off to transition. Drop all my bottles, double check all of the important things. Fill my bike tires. Now I have an hour and a half to kill before race start and well... the nerves are running high. I used my empty morning clothes bag to puke into. I was so sick to my stomach that I couldn't possibly wait for the porta potty. So I emptied the contents of my stomach into the bag over and over again and finally tossed it. I can only pray that no good samaritan tried to rescue it from the garbage.
SWIM:
Line up by estimated swim time with 1400 of your closest friends. The National Anthem is sung, holding Timmy's hand, with tears in my eyes, I was just so grateful for the honor it was to toe the line. The cannon went off and we were on our way. Shuttled down through a boat launch ramp and out into open water. Awesome. I love this. This is awesome. This is incredible. No anxiety. A few moments of complete anger as I could not seem to get free water and space. Every few strokes another collision... no such thing as nice smooth swimming in this race. Ok, thats fine. I'm tough. First loop down, free water for 30 seconds, and then it happened, my arm got tangled up as someone attempted to swim over top of me. My shoulder wasn't the same the rest of the race.... keep on trucking. Keep turning over. You're tough, you've got this. Turn 1, Turn 2, Turn 3, Home Stretch.... and the swim is done. Neeeeeeexxxxt.....
Swim Time: 1:38.59 Slower than expected.... much. But for the full contact swim that it was, it was going to have to be good enough. Room for improvement.
Transition 1
Nice set-up. Not nearly enough room in change tent. Not enough volunteers. Otherwise a fine transition, grabbed the essentials, followed my plan and I was off.
T1 Time: 4:57
BIKE:
Now this is where the plan really gets put into place. I am going to leave it all out on the bike course. Thats right. I am going to empty the tank and then run/walk a marathon..... this seems like a stupid idea. This seems like a cowboy, shot in the dark, crazy plan. All I know is I had something left in Texas, but not enough time, and then my body didn't cooperate. I wasn't doing that again.
I was 20 miles in and finally settling in and starting to feel comfortable. I was moving. Nothing hurt. Nothing was getting pinched or pushed. I was on track. My nutrition was spot on. I took only 2 salt tabs the whole race, I felt so good. We rode in the wildlife refuge- beautiful. Incredible weather. I was loving this. I was flying. 40 miles in and averaging 17.2 mph. Yesssss! This is working. I kept my head in the game knowing that this is where my wall hit in Texas. 5 miles later, it wasn't a wall, but a little bit of wind. I backed off and didn't feel as good for the next 25 miles. Special Needs didn't fix anything, my butt hurt, ugh.... not a wall, but mental suck. Keep pushing, keep pedaling. All of a sudden I remembered the Snickers bar from my special needs bag. BEST. CANDY. BAR. EVER. Shortly after, whether it was the sugar or just the mental game, I felt better. I got off the bike one more time at about mile 90 to stretch, to pee, to wrap my head around what I am doing. Back on the bike and motoring. The last stretch followed the first loop on the run. People were flying! The run support was incredible. The last stretch flew by, all of a sudden I was off my bike. I grabbed the seat to wheel it in to transition.... and it was so loose!!! How it happened I have no idea, but it is no wonder why I had been hurting.
I was off the bike. I had so much time to spare. I could walk the whole marathon.... would my body let me?
Bike Time: 6:53.42 16.24 mph (In case you were keeping track.... if I can transition and run 26.2 miles in 19 minutes I could win this whole thing! **Spoiler Alert** I didn't:) )
Transition 2:
Tent still not big enough. Still not enough volunteers. Porta Potty outside the tent is not open.... oh for Pete's sake. Yes... these transitions were the worst part of my race. I lost easily 2 minutes on this transition. It ended up not mattering.... but it could have. I need to be mentally better in transition- who knew?!
Transition 2 Time: 8:09
RUN:
Walk/Jog for the first 4 miles. Much more walking than jogging. Having fun, feeling good. Looking at my watch and doing math. Lots of math. How many minutes per mile to finish before midnight? Another mile down, now how many minutes per mile? I realize that when I jog, my walk pace decreases significantly afterwards. So if I just keep walking I can maintain 16-17 min/mile pace. If I jog its at a 12 min/mile pace and only for a couple minutes, then my walk drops to 19-20 min/mile.... and I have to walk much more than a couple minutes at a time. Tooooooo much thinking. So I walked. It seemed to make more sense.
It took forever. I wanted it to go fast and it didn't. The first loop was hot. Everyone was out in droves to support. The first time through town was surreal. The thought that people were running past me to enter the finisher chute... incredible. You could hear the announcer all the way around the run course. It kept you focused when you were lost.
Second loop. Still moving, tightening up but not slowing down. Still doing lots of math. Getting much worse at it, brain felt fuzzy. I hadn't brought my nutrition with me because I couldn't imagine carrying the bottle. Mistake... I was trying to get what I needed from the aid stations. Nothing really worked. Water wasn't enough. Ice felt good. Chips made me sick. Banana sat ok but didn't make me feel any better. Grapes and cookies seemed to be the best. I grabbed a cup of cookies at one station and a cookie at the next, repeat, repeat. I tried the chicken broth (apparently forgetting Texas) it didn't help. It made me sick. I didn't take anything at all after that- it was mile 14.... I could be in trouble.
I didn't really think about it. I just kept going. My average was still high. I now could average 22 min/mile. I had space. I had time. My math wasn't quick, but it was right. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I kept waiting to have something prevent me from finishing. In the meantime, I kept trucking along. My next time through town I danced to the music, I smiled. I realized in a few hours, I would be back, and I would be running, I would be finishing.
My parents were there, my husband was there. They were covering the course. They were making themselves seen. They made sure I was ok, and they stayed so strong for me despite being more than a little worried. I can't thank them enough. They were amazing.
I hit a wall. It hurt, I couldn't see, I was tight. I couldn't walk as fast. I was afraid. What if something happened, what if I couldn't finish? Wall.... wall... wall... I kept moving.
I made it to the last turn around. Keep going. The support was lacking. It was dark. The support was the other racers, the ones out there hurting, struggling, limping. We stayed strong for each other. It was an incredible brotherhood.
I made it back to my husband and my parents. I was good. I was good. I had an hour to finish 2 miles.... its finally real. I finally believed in myself. I can.
Loop through town and I can't stop smiling, laughing, calling out congratulations to my coheart final hour finishers.
The Finish:
I came running down the chute. I high fived everyone I could get to. I saw my family. I grinned bigger than I have ever grinned before. And I didn't hear a thing. Thats right... I didn't hear it. I thought he hadn't said it. The first words to my husband were, "I did it? I'm an Ironman? Did he say it?!" He reassured me that he had and I would hear those 4 precious words for the first time 2 days later while watching the recording on the Ipad :)
I finished in 16:33.21. I averaged 17:50 min/mile. Not bad for a little stroll on empty. My plan worked.
Everything hurt. I was never going to do it again. And then I was. And then I signed up. I'm crazy. Insane... certifiable. But I am an Ironman.
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