One year ago, I decided to compete in this year's Ironman Florida. Actually, it must have been more than a year ago, because one year ago I volunteered in the med tent of the Florida Ironman so that I could be first in line to register for this year's Ironman. So I'm not really sure what possessed me, it seemed like the next most logical thing to do after all my marathons, and there's so many triathlons here in the summer. So if you're going to do something, you might as well find the most extreme event compete in that, right? You wouldn't want anyone to thing you were lazy or weak or something.
I've been working on this training program for about 30 weeks, albeit halfheartedly. I just couldn't find the time or the energy to do workout that much - much less, workout with that much focus and intensity. Every single workout was at a proscribed heart race and pace and interval set. There was none of the "just go out and bike for a couple of hours" type of workout. Since I found it frustrating that I couldn't complete the program perfectly, at some point I just gave up. I tried a couple of other training programs, but after a few attempts, I realized that between kids school and activities, work, hubby's reservist job and new business - there just wasn't enough time to train if I was planning to sleep at all. So, I decided to just do what I could, and hope for the best. Mostly I would run 2 or three times a week, bike once or twice a week, and swim once a week.
As the big day approached, I developed a vague sense of impending doom. I'd never actually swum that far (but I did 2 miles once in the bay, and felt great at the end), I'd only biked that distance once (I did an 80 miler and a 75 miler, too). I've done many a marathon, but the first rule of the run portion in the rules of the Ironman was "No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling" was allowed. While I was perplexed that crawling was considered a possibility, my nurse pointed out "wow, you can't skip?". Also, the presence of "Penalty Tents" along the course was also somewhat concerning (So, if you skipped, would you go to the penalty tent? And really, if you DIDN't go to the penalty tent, weren't you missing part of the whole Ironman experience? Maybe I should just skip for a part of the race and find out.)
I had been looking on the internet for some wheels to rent for the race, and I figured, that if they rent wheels, surely there's a company that would rent the rest of the bike, too. Sure enough, I found one! So I was all set with a hot pink camo Quintana Roo and a set of race wheels!
The morning of the race, I got up at 330 to slather myself with sunscreen and body glide, eat a couple of granola bars and head down to transition. I had gone through my whole race day mentally and found a couple of items I was missing from my gear bags in transition. I gathered my morning bag and all the rest of my gear, and headed to the WalMart Parking lot to catch the shuttle. The shuttle was just leaving when I got there, so I settled in to wait for the next one. There was a group of young guys with no gear at all standing at the front of the line, cutting up, cussing and making obnoxious jokes. Turns out they were Navy "volunteers" who would be monitoring the swim on Kayak. Overhearing all their adolescent banter reminded me of the young enlisted kids I worked with in Okinawa.
The shuttle dropped us about a quarter mile from the transition area, so I dropped off my "special needs" bags (they would be transported to the midpoint of the bike and the run, and held extra sunscreen and food) and headed to transition. I had made a exhaustive list of things I would need for the race, but had forgotten the headlamp. This would have been quite helpful as my bike was racked in one of the unlit corners of transition. I heard the girls around me joking about how we were in the "hood". However, there were lots of spectators peeking over the fence, taking pictures and heckling us about being monkeys in the zoo. I managed to find a swiss army knife thing with a flashlight that I'd packed in my "in-case-of-emergencies" bag (along with moleskin, scissors, superglue, purple duck tape, plastic bags, bandaids....). Using this I had to accomplish a few more tasks on my list. 1)Attach new wireless bike computer to bike 2)attach and fill the drink holder on my aero bars (I had lost one of the elastic bands for this purpose. I had planned on using a couple of Riley's headbands, but this didn't work too well. Fortunately, one of the girls down the rack from me had a spare) These aero bars were unfortunately set wider apart than mine are, so instead of securing the drink container that was already tightly wedged in place, they merely suspended the container like one of those trampoline bungies you see kids doing flips on at the fair. Time was growing short, and I needed to get my wetsuit on and head down to the beach. I squeezed into my wetsuit (think of it as trying to put on very very very thick pair of pantyhose) and wandered to the swim start with all the other wetsuit-clad athletes. Ahh, nothing is so invigorating as the smell of neoprene in the early morning... except for maybe the freezing cold sand on the beach, the brisk morning air or maybe the figid salt-water awaiting our entry. Fortunately, I was still wearing an old pair of socks to protect me a little from the sand (lessons learned from all that beach run training!) and an old mylar blanket from my last marathon. I wandered to the water's edge - it was quite a change from just a couple of days ago. There were hardly any waves at all. I finally managed to force myself to place my blanket and socks on the sand - hoping they'd still be there when I got out - and waded into the surf. OH MY GOD it was freezing. Oh well, better just get this over with. I dove in and took a couple of strokes before the cold got too constricting on my chest and I stood up, gasping. This same thing happened with my swim in the bay the last two weekends. The first few strokes are almost unbearably cold, but pretty shortly it warms up. So I dove back in and sure enough, the water became almost pleasant. It also warms up significantly once you get beyond where the shelf drops off, so I did a couple of laps and climbed out, shivering and ran for my blanket and socks (still there!). I wrapped tightly and headed over the timing mats to the start coral. Every other triathlon I've done previously divides each age group into staggered waves, each with it's own assigned color of swim cap. So I was surprised that there were only 2 colors here - green for men, pink for women. As it turns out, we were all going to start at the same time. All 3000 of us. I had hoped to find my friend, Lezli before the swim, but there were just too many women in pink caps with black wetsuits, and I never found her. I watched the professional athletes start at 6:50, and then it was our turn.
7:00 AM
The cannon fires and we are off! I know from experience that I'm not the fastest swimmer, so I hung out at the back of the crowd and let the more aggressive athletes get out of the way. I'm so glad I did! This was one of the most amazing sights I've ever seen! The sun was not yet peeking over the horizon, and thousands of athletes in green and pink swim caps with bodies clad in black wetsuits splashing into water up to their hips, diving under the surf and swimming freestyle off into the shimery smooth Gulf of Mexico.
And finally it was my turn. I have had some major problems with panic in previous triathlons, so I took major precautions. I had changed from a full-sleeve wetsuit to a sleeveless. My full-sleeve was just way too tight on my chest and arms, and always me feel like I couldn't breathe. Also, I make sure I start out in the back where there's fewer people, less grabbing, and more time to get used to the water, keep by breathing even and my heart rate down. I pretty quickly settled into my standard breathing rhythm (stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, stroke stroke, breathe). I found that having a certain pattern to focus on rather than just breathing every 3 strokes was helpful in calming my heart rate. Sort of like a mantra for swimming. The water is amazingly clear in the gulf, which is nice because it's easy to tell how far you are from the shore by how easy it is to see the bottom and it's also easier to follow the feet bubbles of someone in front of you. But it's also easier to see the sea life and jellyfish, so I mostly close my eyes during the swim unless I'm breathing or spotting. I know there's other creatures under the water, but I don't need to see them. The start of our swim was right at sunrise and so every other stroke or so I got to watch an amazing sunrise from a crazy vantage point that few people get to experience. With my eyes just at the surface of the water and the sun just spilling over the horizon, the pink-orange light was blinking through the glittering splashing sea and the flashing arms and elbows of hundreds of swimmers. From time to time I would catch a glimpse of one and couldn't help but think "was that a dorsal fin?" - a holdover from my open water swims in the bay.
I had cut both turns really wide, and it was a very relaxin swim. After the second turn, making my way back to the beach, I remembered that I'd forgotten to put body glide on my arms and neck, and I could just start to feel the tell-tale stinging that was sure to wind up as wicked chafing by the time I was done. Oh well! I swam as far as I could up the beach, ran across the timing mats, grabbed a cup of freshwater and headed out for lap 2. I was looking for feet bubbles to draft off of, when I came upon this MASSIVELY FLUFFY AND PINKLY MENACING MOTHER OF A JELLYFISH. It was huge. Just floating right in front of me. I managed to swim around it, but thought I'd better keep my eyes open just a bit more. THere were actually more jellies than I realized - especially in the deeper water. One more turn and then it was about 800 meters back to the shore. By this time, I'm getting REALLY bored, so I start varying my stroke..... stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe, stroke stroke stroke stroke, breathe.
And then we're out of the water! 1:25 ish. Not too bad, about what I'd planned. And no panic attack! I ran over the timing mats and heard the announcer say "Ann Gwinnup... from Niceville.... that's nice...." Clearly quite the original. I was immediately pointed to an group of 3 people. So I ran up to them while loosening my wetsuit strap and trying to take it down to my waist. These were the "peelers" (they used to be called strippers, but someone changed it to a more family friendly term). I was expecting someone to be there to help me peel down the wetsuit and help stabilize me while I do the step on one pant leg with the other foot dance. Imagine my surprise when the two guys on the outside of the threesome grabbed the shoulders of my wet suit and peeled it to my waist, then grabbed my shoulders and lowered me to the ground while the middle person grabbed my wetsuit by the waist and effectively turned me upside down and shucked my legs free of the neoprene. Then the other two stood me up, the middle one put my wetsuit in my hands and shoved me towards transition. Wow! That was very efficient!
I ran to the gear bag line up and found my bag. I though I was being all creative by strategically placing purple duck tape on my bag so it would stand out from the others.... but apparently lots and lots of other people had a similar idea. So, I knew that my bag was in the first long row, turn right at the bag with pink feathers, stop just after the bag with tons of tinsel. Grabbed my bag and headed to the changing tent. Once here, I found an empty chair and dumped out my bag on the floor and started pondering what I was going to wear for the bike. These are things you would think I'd have figured out before the race. I was immediately pounced upon by a volunteer who was trying to help me get dressed, and seemed a little flummoxed by my "well, I could wear this top, but I think the one I have on will dry, so maybe I'll just wear those arm warmers, but then I may get cold and I hate getting cold so I could just also wear that baselayer thingy with the thumbholes. " Finally dressed and in borrowed shoes (big drama - I had rented a bike but I couldn't get my bike's pedals off to transfer them to the rental bike. Seriously, at one point Brian and I started thinking of taking a blowtorch to the metal casing of the pedal. So, when I went to pick up the bike I was explaining this to the guy who was renting it to me (right after I said "PINK? Don't you have ANY other color?") when he asked what my shoe size was, and brought out his own personal pair of shoes and pedals. They were sorta sloshy on my feet, but tight enough. After I exited the change tent, I ran back out to transition, past a bank of volunteers wearing gloves and standing by big vats of sunscreen, offering to assist in application. THat's just weird. Rather than have total strangers smear my body with creamy white stuff, I just grabbed a couple of handfuls and splashed it onto any skin exposed and then I ran out to my bike, found Dori (friend and president of our new triathlon club :) who retrieved my bike and off I went.
I was heading west on 98, impressed at how little effort it took to maintain about 17mph, and but I really wanted to see my mileage as well. So I pressed on the bottom part of my bike computer to toggle to the next screen.... and dislodged the computer, sending it spiraling off my bike and into oncoming traffic. UGH. That thing was brand new, too. Do I stop, unclip, turn around in the middle of a bike race and try and retrieve the thing in the middle of the road? Ummmm..... nope. Oh well.
Continuing on 98.... it was actually not too windy, except for between the high rise condos and hotels, which functioned as wind tunnels and just about sent me off my bike a few times. I was glad to turn off 98 and onto the northward highway, and into the wind. This part of the bike ride was actually pretty good. I kept an eye out for Lezli, I had no clue how far ahead of me she was - she's a really fast swimmer, but I thought I might have a chance of catching up to her on the bike. I was even passing people. I did occasionally get passed also, but I usually NEVER pass anyone on the bike. At the first aid station or two I came to a full stop. I wasn't quite sure about how to acquire a bottle of powerade while still moving - it seemed tenuous and risky. My pink camo bike was actually an asset for the race. It's very encouraging to hear people shout "HEY NICE BIKE" either from another bike or from the side of the road. I don't know if it was taunting or actually appreciative (it WAS the latest model), but if it breaks up my boredom on the bike, I'll take it! It was during one of these interchanges that I heard an ominous pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh from my front tire. Ugh. Flat. Oh well, I'd practiced this! I quickly got my bike off the road and removed the front tire. I quickly jammed the first tire lever in and was working on the second. That second one is always a bear. And then the end of the tire lever snapped off. Huh. Never expected that. I looked at the remaining tire lever tucked neatly under the edge of my tire and hooked around a spoke, and remembered that one of the many You Tube videos I'd seen on this subject did actually mention you only really needed one tire lever to muscle off the rim of a clencher tire. Okay, well, I guess it was time to get manhandley with my remaining tire lever, and it worked! I should mention that every few seconds I'm answering questions from the passing bikes. "are you okay?", "need anything?" was heard from almost every single biker that passed. This is one reason I really love endurance sports - you'll never meet a stranger at a triathlon! I stripped out the used innertube and inspected the tire for glass or metals shards or something that would have peirced the tube. Nothing. I then set about putting in the new tube. This involved and extender and some teflon tape and this little metal nut thingy that I always forget to take off before putting in the new tube, and was having lots and lots of technical difficulties. Fortunately, I van full of nice tire-repairing people pulled up and finished up the whole thing for me, even pumped the tire up with their own pump so I didn't have to use my own CO2 cartridge (although that's my favorite part). They got me back on the road and I even managed to take my next Powerade bottle without stopping!! I had just finished filling my aerobar drink holder and was setting into the next 10 miles or so when I heard it AGAIN. That exact same ominous pshhhhhhhhhhhht coming from my front tire. NO WAY! I pulled off the road AGAIN, pulled off my front tire AGAIN and inspected it AGAIN. This time I found it. A sidewall of the tire had blown out. Great. I was out of tire fixing supplies, and the guys in the van would surely not be back anytime soon. So, I propped my bike up against a mailbox and started walking the mile or so back to the aid station. I figured someone there could call for technical support. I was about halfway there when the tire repair guys in the mini van pulled up. I handed over my tire, and explained (I really tried to be polite, I'm sure I did) my difficulties. They fixed me up with a replacement tire, and I was on my way again. By this time I'd lost so much time that I knew I could never catch up to where I was, and so I decided to just relax and try to have fun. I knew Lezli would be way too far ahead of me to ever catch, but thought I could at least catch her on one of the out-and-back portions.
Turns out, the group of people I wound up biking around after the second flat were much more interesting than when I was trying zip past at first. There was one guy that felt compelled to shout "It's the PINK QUINTANA ROOOOOOOOO!" every time he passed me or I passed him. There were also lots and lots of people that commented on the bike as well - but I truly believe they were actual comments of appreciation rather than derision. Granted, I could be delusional, but whatever, it was motivating no mater what the motivation! By this time I must have been hydrating pretty well, because I had to stop for a potty break at almost every single aid station. I was sticking to my nutrition plan pretty well. I was going through 20 ounces of Ironman Perform (ie: Gatorade) every 10 miles, and tried to take 2 slugs of Honey Stinger (Gu) from my flask every 10 miles also. I had forgotten my salt tabs, but had 3 packs of mustard that I planned to take every 30 miles or so. Turns out the Gu flask was really hard to get stuff out of. At one point I took one of the powerbar shots from the aid station (needed some caffeine), and I was able to empty the entire contents of the pouch into my mouth and swallow it really quickly. So, in retrospect, I wouldn't worry with the Gu flask, I would just take the (hopefully already opened) pack from the aid station volunteer, squeeze all of it into my mouth and toss the empty before the "Last Chance Trash" sign. The only problem would be in trying to refill fluids AND get a Gu, but I think if you had an empty water bottle cage you could take the fluids, put it in the bottle holder, then take a Gu or two and eat them before transferring the fluids into the aero bar drink bottle. Worst case scenario, you could always hold on to the bottle until the next aid station (because you can't just toss it anywhere, that would be littering). But, that's a major tangent....
At about mile 50ish we turned onto a section of road for our first out and back. This road really really sucked. It was terribly bumpy. It was hard enough to stay in the aero bars with the bumps, but we were also going into a wicked headwind. I was amazed though when this very serene appearing chick passed me in her aerobars. I did wind up passing her again a couple of miles down the road, but she just looked way too placid. I even thought I saw Lezli at one point, but was bouncing too much to shout out.
So, finally we made it to the turnaround. I really don't like turnarounds on a bike. I really feel like I have to slow down so much that I can't really make the turn, and often have to actually stop and put a foot down. If you're not aware of my lack of innate grace, I have a real problem with stopping on my bike. I fall. A lot. Therefore, I've come up with this way of stopping for self preservation. As I'm slowing down, I unclick BOTH feet from my pedals and put them down in preparation for falling to either one side or the other. It's not gracefull, but it keeps me from landing on my butt. I was slowing and preparing to turn around, and I clearly don't know bike etiquite and didn't expect serene lady to be that close behind me, because as I was traversing the entire street and clearly not continuing to move forward as anticipate, I could hear markedly serene lady behind me saying in a state of utter panic "ohgodohgodohgod" as she careened dangerously close. Disaster was averted, but I was sure motivated to stay ahead of crazy serene lady from then on!
The trip back on the bumpy road was not so bad. The wind was at least at my back, and I could stay in the aerobars. This is good because it allows me to stabilize my drink container withmy forearms. If you recall, I just had it suspended in a bouncey fashion between the aerobars, and so with every bounce it would clack against the aerobars and be very very noisy and annoying. On the regular road, it just swayed, but on this bumpy one I really thought it was going to jostle on out of either the bands or the bars. That must be why when I was taking a drink out of my aerobar bottle, the top, flexible part of the straw popped off of the bottom rigid part and in my absolute shock, I let it drop out of my mouth. Oops. Bye bye straw. I could still access the fluids, but I had to bend my elbows and pretty much plant my nose in the aerobars to get to the bottom part of the straw. Not cool, but functional nonetheless. By this point, I seriously thought something was wrong with my bike. Was my back tire flat now, too? Surely no sound bike should be making this much racket. I had commented on this to a passing biker, and he suggested that riding as close to the white line as possible would help minimize the racket. It did, but I also have a hard time biking in a straigh line.
FINALLY got off that road, and back on to reasonable highway. The wind was at my back and things were going much better. At about mile 70 ish we turned south to head back down to Panama city. By this time my, ummm, perineum, was really really sore. I would take breaks and stand up on the hills, but I was really really ready to get OFF THIS BIKE! There was a nice hill over some river where we could pick up some speed at about mile 93 or somthing. After that, I just pedalled as fast as I could to get back to transition and but the bike behind me. I did keep an eye out for my lost bike computer, but no luck. I was about 2 miles from transition when I saw them! Standing off to the side - Riley and Brian! They spotted me, too, and I slowed enough to give Ri a high five. Jax then came running out from whatever he'd been doing, and just missed also slapping my hand. But I'm a mom first and a triathlete 10th, so I unclipped my feet and stopped to give Jax a hug and a high five. Totally worth it, too.
Finally back in Transition! I unmounted my bike, and started to run it back to my spot, when a nice volunteer took it from me. REally?! Wow! So I gathered my bag of run gear and headed for the changing tent. This time I was immediately greeted at the door by a volunteer who took my bag from me and lead me to a chair. She was then relieved of duty by DORI! Yay! I peeled off my helmet and top layer and compression calf sleeves while she dumped out and organized my gear for the run. Two pairs of shoes. "UMMM, so which ones are you going to wear?" Yeah. I don't know. I should probably figure that out just about now. There's the Brooks ghost which are traditional shoes, I've run several long runs in them. They're tried and true and really not very exciting. Then there's my new Brooks Pure Flows! THey're SOOOO cool looking and cool feeling. I LUV them! BUt I just got them in the mail yesterday, and so I probably shouldn't wear them... but I love them. Sigh. Oh well, time to be sensible and wear the safe shoes. So, I donned my hot pink compression socks, changed into a running skirt, slathered a bit of vaseline on my chafed bits and chit-chatted with Dori. It was so nice to get to talk with someone! I mean, in a triathlon there's people all around, but no real chance to get to talk to anyone, especially during the swim and the bike. It's really a very lonely day. I was smearing the raw insides of my arms with vaseline and complaining about my tire blowout woes, when I asked how far ahead of me Lezli was. I figured I could maybe still catch her. But Dori said she didn't make it out of the swim. WHAT?!?!? Nope. She got kicked in the face and swallowed a bunch of water and couldn't finish. So I guess that wasn't Lezli I saw on the bike after all. Wow.
I finished changing, and ran out past the sunscreen vats. Again opting for my own skills in application rather than trust the cadre of volunteer in blue latex-free gloves. And I was off on the run! 9 hours and 9 minutes after the start. I had a plan on the run. I was going to run a mile, walk a minute. This would give me time to eat at the aid stations and keep up with my fluids. I managed to maintain this for the first few miles, and by mile 3 I was feeling good! The streets were lines with raucous spectators, there was music playing loudly, I had no Jelly legs or back pain off the bike. I was running! This was my natural state! The sun was setting, and life was good!
There's a saying in Marathons "If you feel bad at mile 10, you're in trouble. If you feel bad at mile 20, you're normal. If you DON'T feel bad after mile 26, you're not normal." Well, at about mile 5, I hit the wall. Yup, mile 5. Only 21 more to go. UGH. I quickly abandoned my "run a mile, walk a minute" plan and decided to try "run 10 minutes walk one"..... unless there was an aid station, I'd walk that, too. But then I would get dizzy, to I'd walk some more. Finally, I settled on a more immediate motivation strategy. "Okay, I'm going to walk until I get to the stop sign, then I'll run until I get to the first lit street light". Turns out, this one worked pretty well, it kept me looking up and moving forward, instead of staring at my watch. The miles were creeping by really really slowly. The marathon portion of the Florida Ironman is 2 loops of an out and back run course. The "out" portion of the run course is through a state park, and really rather pretty. The aid stations were plentiful and they had lots and lots of options (water, gatorade, cola, broth, ice, sponges, powerbars, electrolye gu, pretzels, oranges, bananas, cookies). My plan at this time was to drink cola and eat pretzels for the salt. I think, though that I'd gotten behind on my hydration and salt. My mouth was so dry that it was hard to swallow the pretzels, and I kept getting dizzy... so I mostly just drank cola and broth, and had a few oranges here and there. No one offered me a beer. I really could have used a beer.... but then I probably would have puked. I've a really sensitive stomach, and the Zofran from the morning had worn off. (Seems like my last few races I get pukey at the end. Nothing looks so bad in a race pic as puking when you're crossing the finish line. But fortunately, I know a good doc, and I prescribed myself some Zofran). I really had no idea how I was going to make it through these last 20 miles. TWENTY MILES. But, really, what option did I have. I couldn't stop. So, I was going to start running when I made it to the last trash can of this aid station, and I'd only have to run until I got to the palm tree out of chritmas lights..... then I'd walk until the disco ball under the blue string of lights, dance a bit to whatever song it was they were playing (can't for the life of me remember, but it must have been a good one) and then run until I got to the lady on the bike with the Texas flag flying behind her. There were still quite a few spectators lining the roads, and lots of kids with hands held out for high fives. I slapped one little girl's hand and thought to myself "That kid looks so much like Riley's friend Skyler. HEY! SKYLER!" Sure enough, my family was waiting for me on the OTHER side of the street. rather than double back, I just waved and kept on going. Told them I'd be right back.... but then I think I slowed down some more. I wasn't thinking all too clearly. I made the turn-around at mile 13.... only 13 more to go. We were parallel to the beach and between the houses I could make out a very calm sea and beautiful sunset. Not as striking as the sunrise today, but still quite pretty through the blowing sea oats. I couldn't help but notice that with all my run/walking I was passing and then being passed by a woman in a pink shirt that read "I ran the pillbox in blahblahblah Hawaii" on the back. I must have spent an hour just wondering about that shirt. The Pillbox? What the hell was that? What kind of natural rock formation would inspire island natives to call it the pillbox? Was it segmented like those days of the week pillboxes? Wasn't there a pillbox hat? Did it look like that? Was it a name influenced by European colonists? Surely not, no one in that time period took enough pills to necessitate and entire box..... In the later miles of a marathon, it doesn't take much to perplex me. At about mile 16 I wound up walk/running with a guy from Atlanta. Nice guy. He''d injured his hip flexor a few weeks ago and it was acting up. His strategy was to walk 100 steps, then run 200 steps. I'd actually tried something like that, but kept getting really bored with all that counting and usually lost count. Single dad, 2 girls, 11 and 7, teaches math and science at a private school, was a contractor but when the economy went south found his calling in teaching 7th grade. Had spent some time as a medic in the Navy, lived in San Diego for a bit, but got out and didn't really want to be an EMT. You can learn a lot about someone during a marathon. Never caught his name, though, and at about mile 19, he stayed back to walk, and I ran ahead. Mile 20! Yay! Passed another couple of guys walking along and talking. Everyone I passed at this stage said "Wow, you're running! You look great!" Ah, nope. I'm only running to that tree up there, then I'm walking. I was sorta concerned about my sodium level and my hydration. I thought that was probably why I was getting dizzy. I'd really been trying to guzzle fluids and electrolytes and finally managed to pee a tiny bit at mile 21 (I know, probably TMI for those of you not in the medical field, but the ability to make urine is a very good indicator of hydration status. Your kidney's need to have some fluid going through them so that you don't wind up in renal failure - it's about 0.5ml/kg/hour. I weigh about 50kg, and if the need to urinate is triggered at about 200-300 ml in the bladder, and I needed to hydrate at a MINIMUM enough to produce 25ml/hour of urine, and I hadn't peed in 4 hours, then I was pretty sure I was behind on hydration.... Hey, it's a long race, and I start thinking too much.)
5 miles left. I can do this. The spectators that were still out and cheering for us. If you've ever run a marathon, you know how much a random spectator can lift your spirits. And if you've never run a marathon, but cheered on a marathon, let me tell you, you were appreciated. At about 3 miles left to go, I passed a cute little boy sitting in his mom's lap. He was shouting at the top of his lungs: "I-R-O-N! IRONMAN!" at every runner who passed him. It was actually supposed to be one of my walk breaks, but no way was I going to WALK past this kid, so I pushed on. As I drew neared he shouted "I-R-O-N!..........IRONGIRL!" It totally made me laugh out loud and definitely gave me a boost!
Mile 24! At some point I had told myself I would run the last 2 miles... but walking felt so much better. My feet hurt. The bottom of them. And running made them hurt more. My thighs hurt, my neck hurt, my arms hurt, my low back hurt, and my abs hurt. No way was I EVER going to do this again. THis is crazy. MILE 25!!! I can see the last turn up ahead, and I'm running past a parking lot when someone yells "Go Ann!" I look over and wave, but it was dark and I couldn't tell who it was. Definately not Brian. Oh well. My race number had my name on it, so they must have seen that.... wow, good eyes to see that from so far away.
LAST TURN! And up ahead of me was the bright blue arch that must be the finish line! Wait a second! I FORGOT TO SKIP! I COULDN'T GO THROUGH THIS WHOLE THING AND NOT SKIP! Okay, it was now or never. There were people lining both sides of the street, so if I was going to skip what better time than at the finish. Oh, wait, can I skip? Let me think....step, hop, step hop.... I THINK I can manage that level of neurologic control. What if I trip? How much would that hurt? I could still finish... they did say crawling was allowed. So I drew together all the mental focus I had left, concentrated really really hard, and SKIPPED ACROSS THE FINISH LINE!!! The crowd went wild! Everyone was cheering!
And then on the other side of the bright blue arch, the road kept going. THere were the timing mats, but no actual finish line. WHAT? WHO THE HELL PUTS A BRIGHT BLUE LIT UP ARCH A HUNDRED FEET AWAY FROM THE WHITE LIT UP ARCH THAT IS THE ACTUAL FINISH LINE? THAT'S JUST SADISTIC! Oh well. If I did it once, I could do it again. As the REAL finish line drew closer I skipped hopped and danced across. I DID IT! I AM NOW ONE OF THOSE REALLY REALLY CRAZY PEOPLE WHO CALL THEMSELVES AN IRONMAN LIKE THEY ARE SOME SORT OF SUPERHERO AND EVEN THOUGH I'M ACTUALLY FEMALE, I'M AN IRONMAN!!!
Whoa. All that skipping really took it out of me. I may puke.
But here's a nice lady at the finish line, who takes me by the arm and laughs and compliments my finish. She leads me to someone who gives me a medal and someone else that gives me a t shirt and someone else who gives me a hat..... wow! Then I make my way to where they're serving more gatorade (UGH, no way. Anything but that.) and pizza (umm, okay, I don't think that would make me puke, although it might) . And I try to navigate my way out of the maze of barricades. AND THERE'S BRIAN!
So, there it is. Long winded, and really just so I can remember as many details as possible. I'm only going to do this once, so I'd better remember as much as possible.
Well, maybe I'll do this again, but definately not until the kids are older, like out of high school...
OR maybe just when they're IN high school and can look after themselves so I don't have to get a babysitter. Teenagers don't really want to spend that much time with their parents anyway, and they sleep til noon, so I'd have more time to train...
So I'm definately not going to do another one of these for 9-10 years.
Well, except for that half Ironman I've already signed up for in April. BUt that's just a half, I did the last half ironman with no training at all...
Damn addicting endurance sports....
By the way, I'm pretty sure that's me in the pink cap at the bottom left of the picture above!
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