TRANSITION TWO (3:28)
I ran under the BIKE IN banner and yelled, “Which way?”
I had little time to think about my legs or stomach as the awesome volunteers pointed me in the correct direction – past the cheering spectators on the left, around the bike transition zone on the right, and then onto the basketball court that had become the ‘holding place’ for our T2 bike-to-run gear bags. Coming upon rows and rows and rows of gear bags, I made the mental note to attach a GIANT balloon to mine in the future.
Dorky as it would have looked to see The Roadrunner billowing in the wind, I would have known exactly where my bag was.
I yelled, “2059!” and again, someone escorted me and helped to find my bag. I hoped over a few rows and sorted through five or six bags before I found the right one. And before I could stop to gather my thoughts, I found my feet and “sprinted” towards the tent.
“In here!” two women cried as I made a bee-line towards the Men’s Changing Tent. Yeah – I’ve realized that after spending 7+ hours of racing, my uptake isn’t quite as quick as it normally is. Nice.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rob book it into his tent. Good, I noted to myself, he’s off the bike, safe and sound…
In spite of the outside gloom, it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark tent. I quickly chose a seat on the far left towards the entrance and dumped out my bag. The volunteer that seated herself next to me was extremely patient and helpful as I began changing.
You can’t lose an Ironman in transition, You can’t lose an Ironman in transition – I reminded myself as I began changing from my bike gear to run gear.
In order to mentally tackle the marathon hurdle, I had decided that a complete wardrobe change was in order. Glancing across the folding chairs, I noticed the gal decked in pick bike attire was doing the same. Funny, I though, I’m going from blue shorts and a blue top on the bike to blue shorts and a white top for the run.
I noticed a few other girls in transition as well, but tried to keep the focus on ME.
For a millisecond I contemplated not taking off my bike short due to modesty – but scratched the idea. I apologized to the volunteer and quickly said, “I’m so sorry, but I’m doing a complete change – could you please hand me my running shorts?”
I don’t think my bike shorts ever came off so quick – but hey, you do what you gotta do. Very quickly I replaced my bike top with my run top and then changed from wet socks to dry socks. And then I remembered my heart rate monitor strap. While my hr had been instrumental on the bike, Jen and I had decided that I should not use it for the run. I knew it would be high at times – but I had done so many long runs and my pace had been basically the same…I figured my body would just know what to do. So OFF with the hr strap, to be seen only after the race was completed.
Next up – the volunteer asked if I wanted to use any of, “These things…?”
She held up one (of many) plastic bags with my Biore Facial Clensing Cloths (yes! And they also work for removing the remnants of dried throw up from your arms and shoulders! Double yea!), and then another tampon-filled baggie, and yet another baggie filled with Midol and ibuprofen.
My cramps didn’t feel too bad – and I didn’t want to take any more time than absolutely necessary. I knew that I hadn’t packed anything for my Run Special Needs, but still it didn’t seem absolutely necessary. Besides, I had already had enough of “new things” via the dried cranberries – who knows what weird side effect the Midol could have prompted? Knowing my luck, I would probably throw up more.
“Just the gels, please! And hat – thanks!” I commented while double knotting my shoes. Again – in the days leading up to the race I had opted to tie my own shoes instead of using lace locks (even though I had purchased the lace locks and had used them on my race flats). I figured that because I didn’t run with them during my long runs, I wouldn’t bother with them in the race. Besides….
No one loses an Ironman in transition…take your time…you have plenty of time…just relax.
After tying my shoes, I stood up, adjusted my race belt towards the front, made sure I had ALL of the gels and salt for the run (a grand total of 8 gels and Nuun canister filled with salt tablets. I wanted to have plenty of gels on hand – figuring that as the miles ticked off, some would be more palatable than others. NO more chocolate, please! A first time in my life saying that!), favorite hat and sunglasses, thanked my volunteer profusely, and ran out of the tent.
The salt made a funny noise in the canister, and it reminded me of a Moroccan band as I headed towards the RUN OUT banner.
The time read a little over 7:11, and I KNEW that if I ran a sub 3:49 marathon, I could break 11 hours…Sub 3:39 and I would be under 10:50. But I pushed the thought out of my head. I didn’t want to be greedy, didn’t know how my body/stomach/legs/mind would respond…and instead, set out to run my second marathon ever. I made a mental note of the time and started my watch right as my timing chip beeped.
THE RUN (3:38:16)
Relax! Relax, relax, relax, relax, relax! I told myself as my legs turned over.
Heading out of transition my legs felt pretty…darned…okay…? But my stomach – ugh. That was another story. I tried to ignore the bloat and how jiggley it felt, and instead focused on what was GOOD. Legs are great! Hooray for those legs! Posture and back – aokay! Thank you core work and core sessions! Arms are swining and well, for being down in my aerobars for 112 miles, give or take quite a few up hills, my neck feels downright perky.
Then I had a conversation with my stomach. I don’t think I spoke aloud – but you never can be sure. Here’s the deal. I know that you’re cramped and upset. And in hindsight, I will NEVER force you to digest dried cranberries and undercooked oatmeal again. In fact, we’ll probably do something different for Kona. Hooray. But listen up – we’re here, right now and I’m going to run, whether you like it or not. You can work with me here, or just do your own thing. But I’m going to run; I’m going to make this happen. Mind over matter…if I don’t mind…then it doesn’t matter…
I knew from past experience that it could take up to 20 or 30 minutes for my stomach to settle. I had done plenty of runs before Arizona and then in my lead up to CDA, where it felt a bit “off” for the first few miles. Just be patient, I told myself, and it will work out.
Energy-wise, I felt great. I knew that most, if not all of the 1400 kcal of Carbopro 1200 I consumed had gone down, and the gels were more absorbed as the bike leg continued. I just needed to get through the first few miles of the run…
Easy… I cautioned myself. I passed the first aid station, filled with screaming volunteer and more food and drink than I could imagine. “Just water!” I yelled while being handed a cup. It went down well and I continued running.
The Ironman Shuffle – I called it. Not super fast, not really pretty – just what you would expect a “run” to look like after spending 2.4 mile of swimming and 112 miles on the bike.
Suddenly I heard, “GO MARIT!”
I glanced to my left and saw Deirdre and…Angelina! I slowed in my tracks, nearly stopped and yelled to Angelina “Are you okay? Oh my gosh!”
“KEEP GOING!” yelled Deirdre. “She’s fine! GO – RUN – KEEP GOING!”
“Not enough calories on the bike…” yelled Angelina.
I waved, but heeded Deirdre’s advice. She sounded serious – like she was about to kick my butt if I stopped for too long. Thanks Deirdre!
Very shortly, I heard light foot steps behind me and was passed by Rob. “Hey Rob! GREAT job!” I shouted as he strode by. His gait looked easy, his run light. I wanted to emulate his form, to match him stride-for-stride – but he was just too strong.
“Hey Cutie Petutie!” he called as he passed. If he said anything else, it was lost in the cheering of the crowds. Simply put – he looked awesome. And I kept my eyes pinned on his back, taking note of the white compression calf socks, and yellow shoes.
As we got further away from transition, the crowds thinned out, and the trees overhead provided shelter from the grey clouds overhead. The lake looked choppy, but beautiful to my left, and I was just so happy, so inspired to be running my first Ironman. Stomach ailments be damned – I was going to make this work. Easy – I reminded myself. If you run a 10-minute mile for the first few miles, it’s fine. Remember Jen’s words – 3:45 marathon is GREAT. Be smart…and make it happen.
Before I realized it, I was rounding a quick corner and coming up to the timing mat at mile run. I thanked the volunteers, heard my chip BEEP as I went over the mat, though about all my family and friends who could see my split update on Ironman Live, and promptly choked up. Again.
But seeing my first mile split – right around 8:10, brought me back to reality. It FELT easy, it felt light. And in spite of some stomach discomfort, all was well.
Heading back towards the transition zone and crowds in town, I first passed the Special Needs bag and then the cheering…increased. I figured, though – it was for the first place woman. I had seen Tyler Stewart running strongly towards the turn-around shortly after I had passed the mat, and knew the pass would be inevitable.
The crowd noise became deafening and just after I passed the 15-mile sign, the bike escort and THEN Tyler Stewart passed. I saw Heather Fuhr a mere 100 meters beyond and wondered how well all the pro woman knew each other… Very quickly though, I forced my mind back to my own race. I had missed my second mile split, but it didn’t bother me. I figured I was running smart, easy, and doing what worked for me.
The crowds in downtown Coeur d’Alene were wonderful, and I couldn’t stop grinning. And then I heard my name again. “GO MARIT!!! LOOK CUPCAKES!”
It was Molly and Dave’s Meredith. Molly was holding a giant pink box of cupcakes and I was very tempted to make a bee-line her direction. Had they been holding a beer sampler, I’m sure the urge would have been just too much. Instead I waved and heard something about, “Kate says HI” – but I wasn’t too sure.
Two blocks down, I heard my Mom before I saw her. Her cheers brought a smile to my face – but before I could pick her out of the crowd, I locked eyes with Nathaniel. I had thought about this moment during my training runs – what would I do when I saw Nathaniel? Would I stop before the finish and give him a hug? And the answer was always a resounding YES!
“Hi sweetheart!” I called as I ran towards him. Without thinking, I gave him a giant smooch.
“You were tenth out of the water,” he said just after I pulled away.
“Oh. Okay. That doesn’t matter now – because it’s 6 and a half hours later. But thanks! I LOVE YOU!” I yelled. And then took off running again.
It was only after the fact that I thought about how gross that probably was. There I was – sweaty, salty, having GI issues on the bike – laying a Big One on my super clean, but adorably supportive and handsome hubby. Hopefully he didn’t have to wipe his lips off too much…
After leaving the cheering of town, I turned towards the residential streets and figured that it was time to deal with the stomach cramps. I wondered if they weren’t bathroom-related, and figured I would make a port-o-potty call just in case. The racer-within lamented peeing on a toilet – just pee on yourself while running…you do it all the time.
Yes, the practical side of me responded. But… First thing, you don’t know IF you need to just pee or do anything else and Second…you’re wearing running shorts that will stick to your leg if they get super wet. Do you really want to run another 23 miles with wet, pee-filled shorts? It won’t kill you to stop…just do it when the pink girl and that other girl ahead stop.
There must have been something in the air because as soon as I thought it, Pink Girl and another gal who had left the transition a little ahead of me ducked into the two nearest port-o-potties.
Good, I thought, then they won’t see me pass!
Half a block down and on the other side of the road, I finally got relief. It took me 2:00 of constant peeing – but it felt great. I safely passed the gas that had been causing me so many cramps and breathed a sigh of relief that it was JUST gas and not anything else. At least I could rest easy that I didn’t have to hold in diarrhea or anything super icky (but that I’ve heard horror stories about…).
As gross as it was, it felt pretty sweet sitting on the pot. I recalled one of the Lake Henshaw bike rides that I had done with Charisa – and remembered one such similar feeling while sitting on The John in one of the convenience stores at the base of Palomar Mountain. I suppose one never realizes how great a toilet seat feels until one has either been deprived of said seat for so long OR has been riding one’s bike for an inordinate amount of miles.
Quick as I could, I pulled up my shorts and exited the port-o-potty. I grimaced and tried not to think about the one hundred and twenty seconds lost to Mother Nature, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Then again, I thought resolutely to myself, I would probably lose more time down the road if I didn’t stop. At some point, everyone pees. And then some.
About half a block later, I noticed not two, but three girls running ahead. Pinky, and the same Gal from transition, but another had joined. She was wearing an Atlanta Sports Factory kit – I recognized it as the same one Amy Kloner races in. Okay – I thought. Can’t tell the age of Newby, but it doesn’t really matter. All I can do is run my own race….
So I just kept going. Just kept going…
Step after step, stride after stride…mile after mile.
Passing the “motivational mile” was the last time I let myself think about friends and family until the end. The previous day in the Athlete’s Village, my Mom and I had made inspirational signs – and while I never noticed my own, I instantly saw the bright colors of Moms. It made me cry all over again.
Enough! I thought. There is NO WAY you can get through the marathon by weeping every damn mile! Thank everyone and think of them at the end…
At the aid station just before turning onto Coeur d’Alene Drive, I saw Terra Castro. I remembered cheering for her during Oceanside, and then having her turn around and encouraging me right back. After the race I had the pleasure of chatting with her for a bit – and she was just as friendly as she appears on her blog. It was neat to finally meet her back in April. I could tell today, though, that she wasn’t having the easiest day out there – but she bravely yelled to me while passing the other direction, “Let’s do this thing girl!”
Her words gave me courage. Yeah, it will probably hurt – but we all have to deal with it. Let’s do this thing!
So I kept running – out finally onto Coeur d’Alene drive, a few more miles before hitting the turn-around half way up the hill.
I made sure to take my gels – every 40 to 45 minutes, while constantly reassessing myself, my stomach, and my outlook. So far the legs were moving well – I stopped watching my mile splits, figuring that I was going to run what I was going to run. And while I didn’t feel fast – the pace felt steady, strong, solid, and consistent (just like training). I took plenty of time, though, to enjoy the scenery.
The lake was beautiful, framed perfectly by sloping green mountains. The wind had calmed since the morning. Well, either that, or this particular part of the lake was just more sheltered. Although, I could still feel quite a bit of headwind…excellent! A tailwind towards the end, just when I need it, I thought.
The closer I got to the turn around, the more I noticed age group women running back towards me. In past races, I’ve always counted and tried to figure out where I was. But this race was different. Part of me didn’t really care, just because I still had 18 miles to go (THAT puts things in perspective!), but also because this was unlike any other race I had ever done. It was so much within myself – no one else really mattered. If they passed me – okay. Either I would pass them back or not. But if I ran too fast or too much beyond my means, I would most definitely pay for it during the second loop.
I recalled Jen’s words, “Easy on the first half. The race really starts on the second loop. IF you feel good – the go. But just be smart. Be smart.”
And that’s when I noticed how many people I was…passing? It didn’t hit me at first during my run, just because I was so focused on my gut and getting my legs under me. But now that I was moving, I began to notice a lot of people jogging along or – in some cases – walking. I wondered how many of these people were the same ones who blew by me in the first few hours of the bike, and were just now paying for their blazing bike split.
Maybe there was something to this pacing thing….
I knew I could pretty much hold a heart rate of 140-160 all day. It was just a matter of execution (and my body holding up – let’s not get too carried away. I was, after all, somewhere between miles 6 and 10. A LONG way to go).
Gradually I saw a few more women trickle past, and soon came upon the final aid station at the bottom of the hill (before the turn). Then I heard someone loud from behind, rapidly approaching. I knew it was a gal – based on the foot strikes. But she was breathing pretty heavily, and I knew that whoever it was, they were working awful hard.
And then the pass. I thought it was Kerrie, but I didn’t want to call her name on the off chance that I was wrong. I recognized the Erin Baker’s Breakfast Cookie kit, but didn’t realize she was so…petite (well – duh! The girl is a FAST runner!). I guess everyone always seems so tall to me (being a spry 5’4 myself) – but Kerrie seemed about my height, which was a welcomed surprise.
“Kerrie…?” I asked, timidly – not wanting to insult the girl if it wasn’t.
She turned back and nodded her head at me, and tried to say something. But I didn’t catch the words, because 1) her pace was super fast and 2) her voice came out in a whisper.
I called after her, “GREAT JOB!” and watched her fight on. I was so happy to see her out there running hard on the course that I didn’t even mind that she had passed me. I figured I would try to keep her in my sights as long as possible, but if not – oh well.
As I ran up the hill, I noticed some very excited spectators at the top, all sporting Viking Helmets. They cheered for me as I rounded the timing mat and I cheered them back. I was happy – one more mat crossed and I had set my sights on another girl just a few meters ahead. I had already left Pinky and the other Gal from transition behind, but the girl ahead was new.
At the bottom of the hill, I noticed Kate Major, one of the local Southern California professionals, running up. She was in the second pro overall position and while I cheered her on, I thought it would be pretty neat if I could stay ahead of her for the rest of the run. Then again, she was already on mile 20, while I was somewhere past 8. Still, I felt great about the run that I was having and focused on the next girl just up the road.
She had passed me late into the bike, and seemed to be working pretty hard as she trucked along. I had made a mental note of her brown and orange kit and just kept riding. Right before I made the re-pass somewhere between miles 8 and 9, I read her name on the back of her race number. I wondered if she was the same girl who had raced at Oceanside…? She was in my age group, so it was a possibility…
I thought briefly about opening my mouth and chatting – but she seemed intently focused on running. And then I had to do it, I just had to do it. Whether curiosity had gotten the better of me, or I just needed a little interaction, I opened my big fat mouth.
“Are you so-and-so from Oceanside? You look familiar?”
“No!” came the curt response. “I’m so-and-so!”
“Oh –“ I faltered. “Sorry, I guess I got you mixed up.” I tried to say something positive, because I could tell she was having a rough moment, but didn’t really know what to do. I tried to reassure her, but got a pretty negative vibe – or at least what I interpreted as a negative force-field emanating from her person. I figured, if I was having a tough go-at-it, I would do the same thing… So I just kept running, speeding up slightly lest she noticed that we were in the same age group.
On the one hand it felt GOOD passing someone in my division and I drew a little satisfaction from the fact that she was having a tough time. But she looked so strong – both on the bike and while running – and I did my best to stay ahead of her for as long as possible. I thought about her behind me for the next few miles, but when she didn’t pass, my thoughts moved elsewhere. I refused to turn around and look, figuring I would be able to time the gap after passing the turn-around at mile 14.
Just keep running, just keep running. This is easy…this is like practice…just keep running. Smile. Make yourself look happy – because your body will believe it. Smile…just keep running.
A few more twists and turns along Coeur d’Alene drive and I suddenly noticed a solitary figure up ahead. Rob – who I had gone back and forth with on the bike and then who had looked so strong – was walking on the path next to the paved trail. “Are you okay?” I called as I passed.
“Stomach…” he managed to mumble. He was clutching his side, not looking great, but still not defeated.
“Do you need anything? Salts? Gels??” I asked, showing him my stash.
He just shook his head and continued walking.
Later, he would bravely begin running and pass me, only to be forced to walk again. It was hard for me to see – just because I read Rob’s blog and know how much training and hard work he had devoted to this race. Each time I saw him though, he would always tell me ‘good job’ and ‘keep going’. The last time I would pass him was somewhere around mile 16, but I had a chance to glimpse him running towards the final turn-around shortly after I had gone over it. When he was running, he looked great. And I was so happy after the race when I heard that he had finished under the 11-hour mark.
Past the motivational digital marker (mile 22 or 23 for those second loop folks. Lucky Bastards!), and I told myself that NEXT time around, I would let myself read the messages flashing across the screen. For now, I needed to keep my head down, focus on my form, and run up the slight hill (still) on Coeur d’Alene Drive. At least I had a tailwind!
Somewhere towards the top I saw Ludi – she looked like she was in pain, but toughing it out. “Go Girl!” she yelled as I ran the other way. I was so relieved to see her – wanted to hug her, to sit her down and tell her all about my day – but I knew that there was still much work to be done. I was 10 or 11 miles into my marathon and still had a ways to go.
While running through the residential area, my new focus turned towards hitting the town itself. I knew the crowd support would be incredible, and I pressed on, making sure to stick to my nutrition. Each mile I ran through the aid stations – grabbing water at the very first opportunity and the a second cup if it was available. My gut was responding well, and the gels were staying down without too much effort. I had continued to take two salt tablets every 75 minutes or so, assuming that I would continue to sweat.
But instead of warming up, the temperature continued to drop. I wasn’t cold – not really – just aware that it wasn’t getting any warmer. So perhaps I don’t need any more salt…we’ll see, I thought to myself. We’ll see. Just keep assessing….keep feeling….keep running.
Right before turning into town, I passed another girl who had biked past me somewhere around mile 40. She was looking really great – strong form, good cadence – everything that I wanted to emulate. And I told her so. “You are looking so strong! Your form is beautiful and your cadence is awesome! I wish I could do that! My coach would be really happy!” And I meant every word.
I think she was as starved for conversation as I was. We exchanged a few pleasantries and then I was on my way, surging ahead as I turned down the long blocks into town.
The crowd support was awesome and I knew it would be even better at the finish. I blocked out all emotions as I ran down towards the transition area, past the blocks and blocks of spectators. So…there’s the CDA brew pub… I noted. But I still kept running.
And leave it to me – the girl who followed her heart rate and then perceived exertion all day – to miss the one run split that I cared about. I had wanted to get my half marathon time, as I was curious about what sort of pace I was holding. Thus far, it had felt attainable for the entire marathon – but a lot could change in 13.1 miles.
Then – as if in slow motion – I saw my parents and Nathaniel, their faces standing out sharply against that of the crowd.
“One more loop!” I yelled, exuberant. “Just one more and I’ll see you then!”
They cheered and I kept going.
A second glance at the race clock positioned near the exit of T2 confirmed that I was on pace to break 11 hours. IF I ran the sub 3:39, I could go under 10:50…but there was still a lot of running left to go. I was too out of it to really do the math – I suppose I could have quickly calculated my pace and distance at that point. Then again – I SHOULD have just looked at my watch the minute that I ran past that clock – that would have given me the half marathon split that I wanted.
Oh well – At 9+ hours into my Ironman, my mental capacity was (ahem) diminished. Hindsight is 20-20.
The next few miles were a blur – passing the 14 mile turn around point, noting where the girls who I had already passed where, cheering for Kerrie as she looked tough and determined, passing the Run Special Needs and wishing for arm warmers but deciding that NO, even if they were there, I would NOT stop – and then seeing the 15 mile marker and deciding that 11 more miles of running seemed doable.
For the briefest of moments, I flashed back to one of my long runs – I recalled that from our front door, out to the Coastal Highway, and then down to one of the Steak Houses in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, it was exactly 11.1 miles. Hhhhmmmmm…..I wondered. Steak sounded nice. Better yet – knowing that I had covered that distance and the return trip without a problem…. It was very surreal. There I was, surrounded by thousands of cheering spectators, having just passed mile 15 of my first Ironman, and I was thinking of my long run and steak.
Weird.
Out of town one more time and I forced myself to NOT think about the finish – not yet. I knew that my imagination wouldn’t do it justice. I still had a long way to go, and I wanted to experience every bit of this race.
I’m supposed to be exactly here…right now…right in this moment. This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. What would the point be of fast forwarding to the finish, when its always been about The Journey?
My smile became forced as I ran through the streets. My quads had decided that they had had enough. And sure enough, between miles 16-18, the stabbing sensation grew. It was a familiar pain; one that I had experienced during the Carlsbad Half Marathon back in January. At that time, break down in my quadriceps muscle was due to super light race flats – that my body just wasn’t ready to race a half marathon in.
Today I had made no such error – and was wearing my (newer), but trusty long run training shoes. They had gotten me through my longest run of 22 miles pretty much unscathed, and I was confident they could get me through a marathon. Adding the swim and bike and the built-up fatigue, well, that was another story.
Even though I continued to pass people left and right, I noticed that I was talking less and less. My focus turned inward. Mind over matter mind over matter. This doesn’t matter. I’m going to run, I’m going to keep running. Mind over matter. I can do this! I will do this! I’m doing GREAT, I’m doing awesome! I am kicking my first Ironman in the butt. And painful legs be damned – THIS IS IRONMAN. This is what They talk about when they talk about Ironman Pain. Dude – what do you expect?? You are at mile 18 of your first Ironman! Okay – you’re at 2:30 right now – just ONE MORE HOUR. You are doing awesome. All this is, is a run down the coast and back! And how many times have you done that? How many times? Lots. This is no problem. Just keep running. Your pace is great. Your body is great. Your legs hurt, but welcome to Ironman.
I just kept repeating the mantra to myself, over and over again. I know I passed Ludi the other way at some point – but don’t recall exactly when. My focus was now solely on myself.
Right after turning onto Lake Coeur d’Alene drive (for the FINAL time of the day), I noticed my friends in the Viking-clad helmets. But I also noticed something in addition: one of them was wearing the same brown and orange jersey of the gal whom I had passed on the last lap. As I passed them, I overheard one of them say, “Start the clock – she’s in the same age group!”
But I kept going, kept running, determined to NOT let anyone who had their own entourage giving them splits, pass ME on the course. So for the rest of the race, whenever I saw someone with that same brown and orange team kit, I made an effort to quicken my stride and pass my quarry.
One aid station to another – I ran not only for the water, but more importantly, for the cheers, the support, and the knowledge that I was one mile closer to The End. And away from Viking girl, stalking me from behind.
I tried to focus on the beauty of it all, on the fact that I was out there, DOING my Ironman. I noted the chicken broth that had been brought out to the aid stations. That, along with coke was starting to sound better and better. But I knew that once I started on flat coke, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And as good as chicken broth sounded, running and drinking said (HOT) broth seemed (nearly) impossible.
Heading back towards me was Kerrie, and I knew the final turnaround was close. I could see the base of the hill and I wished her luck as she trucked along in the other direction. As I ran up the hill, I shortened my stride and pumped my arms – just like Bob Mitera had yelled at me to do during Oceanside – and fixated on the timing mat at the top.
As much as it hurt going up, I knew it would hurt tenfold going down. The quads would feel as though they were being repeatedly stabbed, but I gamely ran on. I glanced at my watch as I rounded the mat, making a mental note of the time and determined to out run Viking Girl if it came down to it. Each step down the steep hill was pain, and I shortened my stride and focused on finding happy thoughts.
Like seeing how far ahead of Viking Girl I was. Thirty seconds passed, and then a minute. I perked up – maybe she wasn’t as close as I thought. Two minutes went by and the pain in my quads – while never leaving, eased a little as the slope turned slightly upwards along the lake. A full three minutes and thirty seconds later, I caught a glimpse of her heading the other way. She looked about as bad as I felt – but I put on a brave face, waving at her and calling “good job!” as I went by.
So pointed to me and kept moving – perhaps the pain etched on my face had lifted her mood. Or maybe the fact that we were between 5 and 6 miles from the finish. Who knows?
On the way back I saw a lot MORE people – many of them walking or jogging slowly. It was nearly impossible to tell who was on lap 1 or lap 2, so I stopped counting. I saw a guy wearing an Erin Baker’s kit just ahead, and I decided to try and stay with him. He seemed to be holding a solid pace and I found myself staring at the back of his jersey as we weaved our way through the crowded path.
One aid station to another…one mile after another. And then he stopped. I tried to say something as I passed, but it came out more like a grunt.
Suddenly the Ford Motivational Mile Screen at mile 23 (or was it 22?) passed, and I ran over the mat that would read my chip and trigger the digital message. As corny as it sounds, I had written “MAKE PEACE” to myself the day before the race. To my dismay, I didn’t see the message flash across the board. Well, either that or I was just too out of it to comprehend.
But it didn’t matter: I had made peace with the pain, made peace with my race, made peace that my quads were going to feel like they were being sliced open with every step I took. It just didn’t matter – I had three (or four) more miles to go. If I needed, to, I would will my way to the finish.
Just 5k. Just a measly 5k.
Up the last small slope and I made my final turn towards the residential streets and off Lake Coeur d’Alene Drive (hallelujah!). Each step I took was bringing me closer to the end – I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
I passed one family out grilling on their lawn, and suddenly my mouth started watering. Screw the steak, I could have used the entire cow at that point. With just under 3 miles to go, I realized I was getting hungry for real food and was grateful that I had 25 minutes or so to run. I tried to make a joke about beer samplers and burgers, and was extremely tempted when they offered me one (hamburger).
I knew I couldn’t out run the spunky kids in the front yard and figured all the protein, amass of veggies, thick bun, all washed down with a cold, frothy beer would make me sick. So I politely declined, and just kept going.
But I did note the fading light, and at this time, removed my sunglasses from my eyes and propped them over the top of my hat. Just keep going, just keep going.
I was literally running from one block to another, one aid station to another. With two miles to go, someone running the other way yelled my name and I think I yelled back – but I couldn’t be sure. I also saw Ludi, walking determinedly along. “GO GIRL – You’re ALMOST THERE! Keep going!”
Her shouts echoed around the silent foot strikes of Ironman athletes running their own race. I was haunted by her face – hollow but resolute. And I realized that mine probably looked something similar. Except my quads felt like they were about to explode.
Mind over matter, mind over matter. Just keep going – just keep going. To the next aide station. To the port-o-potties that you stopped in…and then up a small hill and then you’re almost done. Just keep going.
I’m not really sure how I survived the next mile and a half. Pure will, I suppose. I had come so far and wasn’t about to stop with less than 12 minutes of running. One step after another – I watched people running in the opposite direction and was grateful that I had such a short distance left. I knew they were all running their own race, though.
The weather was taking a turn for the worse, though – and in the last mile I thought I felt a few rain drops fall. But I couldn’t be sure. The temperature had most definitely dropped and I would have LOVED arm warmers. More and more often, I would see athletes bundled up in space blankets or warm running gear. But I don’t need that, I’m almost there – I reminded myself.
One more quick turn to my right and I saw what I had been waiting for, for the entire second loop. I headed to the LEFT, towards the RUN FINISH chute, and prepared to make the final left turn onto Sherman Avenue.
I thought I would prepare myself for the emotions and feelings when I saw the finish line, but looking back – nothing could get me ready for the emotions I felt.
The crowd support was awesome, and the cheering from people lining both sides of the street for nearly half a mile was incredible. And at the very end, off in the distance and draped with a cloudy grey sky, was the finish chute and arena.
“Oh my God-“ I exclaimed, “There it is.”
This time I know for a fact that I spoke aloud.
I let the emotion of the day finally wash over me. I could feel the warm tears splash my cheeks as I ran down that hill. Though my legs were on fire with pain, nothing could dampen my spirit. Even though it lasted only the briefest of moments, I will remember it forever. The past year seemed to fast forward and I remembered the tough times…which made the GREAT times (like now) seem all the better. All the more real – and I was grateful. And at peace. And happy (but in pain!)
I thought about Nathaniel and couldn’t wait to put the finisher’s medal around his neck. And I remembered my parents who, as I had lost my entry fee to Ironman Arizona, had not only paid for my CDA entry, but had supported me along the way. And Jen…I could not have been running this last block – could not have raced the past 140.5 miles without her excellent guidance, friendship, support, and coaching. And to the many many many others – you all know who you are. Thank you.
The cheering increased the closer I got to the finish line, and before I knew it I could see the final clock.
It read 10:48 and I knew I would be in under 10:50. I could feel my quads – on pain with the effort – but no longer cared. I slowed to enjoy the moment, to soak it all in. The few guys that sprinted by me towards the end – didn’t even matter.
I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
At the finish line of my first Ironman.
I didn’t hear Mike Reiley announce my name or say that I was an Ironman. Instead, I wiped away the tears, lifted my arms for a quick wave, and grinned as much as I could. The grey Ironman carpet seemed welcoming under my feet and lead me those final few meters to the race finish.
And the rest, as they say – is history.
At 10:49:25, I crossed the line and became an Ironman.
Stay tuned to concluding thoughts and my wrap up (yes, there is more). And as always – thanks.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Ironman Coeur d'Alene RR, part 2
THE BIKE (5:55)
The cheers and yells were deafening as I carefully threw my leg over the bike seat and set off on my 112 mile ride. I had to focus to keep my heart rate down as I pedaled away from T1, but the crowd support was such that I wanted to go hard, wanted to be fast. But I didn’t.
And that was essentially how I rode the bike during my first Ironman.
Steady.
Strong.
Solid.
Consistent.
Nothing fancy and absolutely NO CHASING of anyone – no matter the gender or age group when they passed. But it was hard, very challenging for me. I wanted to go, I so wanted to time trial and blow by everyone, and I was feeling GREAT. But I knew that any (more) moments of stupidity (remember the eating of dried cranberries and how my stomach just felt ‘off’ after breakfast…?), and I would surely not have the race I was capable of.
So instead, I swallowed my pride, focused on my heart rate, and figured I would race my own race.
I knew going into the race that one of the bigger challenges for me, would be letting the throngs of bikers blow by me in the first few hours of the race. And they did not disappoint.
While leaving the town and twisting through the streets on the way out to Higgins Point on Coeur d’Alene Drive, I found myself sitting upright, out of my aero bars. First, it allowed the masses (and some packs – shame on them!) of people to pass. But more importantly, I needed to settle my heart rate. It was still higher than what I wanted, peaking in the mid 160s. Jen and Jerome had warned me that I would be a tad high at the onset of the bike, due mostly to adrenaline. But I wanted it down – in the upper 140s and low 150s (upper zone 2 and low zone 3) like I had planned, and practiced (over and over and over again).
After a few minutes is was still higher than I wanted, but I figured I would just go with whatever my body had to offer. I was feeling great, and my perceived exertion was on par with that of a recovery ride. It felt easy, light, and effortless. Unfortunately, my heart rate wasn’t cooperating. Oh well, I figured – it will settle, probably within the first 45 minutes or so. Just keep the effort light…
Keep the effort light….
Let them pass…
Still, more and more and MORE people passed. And I moved as far over to the right as I could – and just let them go by.
Yet every instinct, every bit of me wanted to go – especially when the girls started zooming by.
But I was more afraid of blowing up later on, more afraid of the damage I could possibly do down the line, than charging forward.
Within the first few miles on the bike, my race had turned into an exercise of self-control.
Very quickly I came upon the first hill – a quick ½ mile and 6% climb – on Lake Coeur d’Alene Drive. Shifting into my small ring and 25th gear on the rear cog (is that technically the lowest gear or highest? I can never tell. Oh well), I spun up. Looking around, I noticed even MORE people charging up the hill; it would have been easy to do because of ALL the spectators and bagpipers at the top. The mood was festive, air charged with energy. But I kept it light, simple, easy. And while I spun up the hill, I recalled all of my Palomar climbs. If I could climb THAT Mountain, I could surely do this.
And then I remembered my great friend Shannon, who was willing to climb Palomar with me on very little training and right after earning her PhD. Hell, if SHE could suffer up that thing in order to spend time with me before moving up to Berkley, then the least I could do would be to think of her during these comparatively lesser climbs.
But thinking of Shannon, made me think of Meredith – and my thoughts were with them quite a bit during my day. I also remembered Jen – the friend and coach – who helped me achieve my goals and was there for me thick and thin. And then I thought about Elizabeth, and even though we didn’t have the years we thought we would last season, her thoughtful words and card when things were really tough meant the world.
And…before I could think of too many other people who helped me along the way, I started chocking up. The emotions of it all – what I was currently doing (my FIRST Ironman, and I survived the swim!) all the way back to when times were tough last year, and then coming full circle into the person I am – were just too much. Cresting the top of the first hill on the bike course, I could feel the tears at the corners of my eyes. More alarming though, was the fact that breathing was becoming difficult.
Too many emotions can be a bad thing, I guess.
I used the downhill to coast and gather my thoughts. I would carry the love and support of my family and friends with me throughout the day – but just at the right time. Bawling my eyes out before even the first Higgins Point turnaround barely 10 miles into the bike ride surely wasn’t a good plan. Besides, if Jen were here she would probably shake some sense into me and yell, “Toughen up, Butter cup!”
Reaching the Higgins Point turnaround afforded me my first glimpse of the bike special needs bags. There they were – stacked and waiting for us on the second loop. I thought momentarily of how I DIDN’T pack anything in mine, and wondered if I had made a mistake. Oh well – I had two spare Co2 cartridges, a pre-stretched and pre-glued spare tubular, two valve extenders, my inflator, and two tire levers. Hopefully they would suffice.
Instead, I distracted myself with an overall assessment – something that I would continue to do every few minutes on the bike. How are the legs? Arms? Neck? Everything feeling good? Okay – great! How about that stomach? Not so good…hhhhmmmm…..it will settle, just give it time. Okay – how’s the heart rate? Sticking to the zone? It’s still a tad high – but you’ve only been on the bike for 30 minutes – give it a few more minutes to settle into the upper 140s. Okay – now that it’s been exactly 30 minutes, time to start taking in the nutrition. Two or three sips of CarboPro 1200. Okay – great job! Yeah! Stomach still isn’t great – have some water.
But even after passing back through town and making my way out towards Lake Hayden, my stomach failed to settle. In fact, it started feeling…worse. I looked down and noticed that it seemed a bit bloated. It had been awful ever since I ate my concoction of oatmeal, Greek yogurt and hastily added cranberries. Something wasn’t right – and I suspected my last minute dried fruit was the culprit.
Sure enough, a few minutes later and just before hitting the 20 mile mark on the bike (just over an hour in), I threw up a big amount of water-Carbopro 1200-gel- and…the last remains of dried cranberries, which were now the pleasant color of brown. I know – because half of it was stuck to my arm. Lovely.
Better out than in – I though grimly to myself. On the one hand I was happy that my body was at least doing SOMETHING to settle the stomach. On the other, I was terrified that I had ruined my race by doing something so stupid. But, I figured there was NOTHING AT THAT POINT that I could do to change what had already been done. All I could do was continue to eat and drink – like I had practiced.
I waited a few minutes and then at 1:05 took in another gel, figuring I had thrown up most of the first and that I NEEDED to get some calories into my system. There was NO WAY I could get through another 90+ miles of biking AND run a marathon with an uncooperative digestive tract. So I gingerly sipped water and alternated sucking down the gel…It took about 5 or 6 minutes to finish that sucker off, but I was rewarded with no immediate throwing up.
Hooray for the small victories!
That’s it, I told my stomach. You’re doing great – just hang in there! It’s okay to feel icky. I’m going to keep biking, keep going at this pace. You can feel as gross as you want – just please please please continue to digest and process my food. I don’t care how bloated and distended you get – just absorb the nutrients. Hang in there! You can do it!!
Somewhere during this stretch I passed the 25/81 mile sign on the bike course. Looking down at my heart rate, I was rewarded with a steady ‘148’ – and my body (except for the stomach – but it was mostly processing the food, so I wasn’t about to get too picky) felt great.
“This is where the race starts on the second loop.”
I know for a fact that I said those words aloud, because one guy passing me gave me a funny look, and sort of shook his head. Oops. Too late for modesty at this point, right? There I was, bloated tummy, willing my way forward in my first Ironman. What would YOU have done?
Shortly thereafter I hit the hillier section of the course. Later I discovered that there was in excess of 6,000+ feet gained during the entire bike portion – but the hills themselves didn’t seem too bad. Nothing was really long or steep – just a consistent grind. The tricky part, though – were the 90 degree turns or sharp twists at the bottom, conveniently located to slow your speed and stop any coasting up to the next hill.
I turned it into a game: descend fast, downshift in preparation of the next turn, slow, watch an overzealous rider overshoot the turn and end up in the ditch or driveway, sit up, make the turn, and slowly spin up the hill. It was constant. Descend, shift, slow, sit up, turn, climb – spinning all the way up.
Never have I been so grateful to have driven the course. That was a lifesaver - something that I would strongly recommend to any future CDA-people out there.
It was an interesting game – how much thinking there was. I was constantly reassessing my stomach, watching for warning signs from the rest of my body, and trying to remain upbeat. I was grateful for my preparation – the long rides through Southern California, the local hills, and Jen’s workouts – had done the trick. It was just a matter of ME – being smart, staying up beat, and assessing my nutrition.
During one of the out and back portions I saw Ludi’s blue Mark Allen Online Elite Team race helmet and yelled her name. It made me happy to see her out on the course, and I was grateful that she had gotten through what was undoubtedly a tough swim.
The minutes seemed to melt into 15 minutes segments, and before I knew it I was chomping on another chocolate gel – 2:00 into the ride. About five minutes later, the dried cranberries decided to strike again, and I was left with a combination of chocolate gel and chunks of brown partially digested and dried fruit on my other shoulder. It tasted sour and bitter, and I tried washing it down with a little water. I figured that I had gotten most of the gel in, as only a little came back up – but I made a mental note to continue to monitor my stomach. (As if I wasn't already!)
If I don’t mind…then it won’t matter. As long as I’m getting some calories in, I can deal with the discomfort. It WILL go down, it WILL get better. Mind over matter…If I don’t mind than it won’t matter….
Luckily the conditions were nearly ideal for someone with stomach issues. The heat really wasn’t much of a factor (if at all) and I wasn’t as thirsty as I had thought I would be. In fact, after 40 miles, I had barely consumed one full bottle of water. I knew that I would need to continue to push fluids – but I would be smart about it.
The hills became less and less frequent and while passing an aide station somewhere around the 42 mile mark, I made an effort to thank the volunteers. They were great – cheering everyone as we rode past. I stuck to my own nutrition and thought briefly about grabbing a bottle of water. No need – not yet anyways. Perhaps on the second loop, when my stomach was more settled.
At this point there were still quite a bit of cat-and-mouse-like games going on between me and other riders. I would pass someone on a downhill and then they would re-pass on the ups. And vice versa. I made an effort to call people out by their names and offer encouragement to anyone that I could. I really didn’t care if they looked back or said anything – it made ME feel better. And it reminded me of riding with friends.
I generally tried to stay positive – during training AND while racing. Some days it’s easier than others. But I figure an upbeat attitude is half the battle in most cases.
The road really began to flatten out as we turned back towards Coeur d’Alene. I could see other riders off in the distance through the long stretches of road. I was passed by a few women – but the pair that passed sounded as though they were working really hard. I figured I would reel them in later, and if not – oh well. There was nothing I could do, save stick to my plan.
After crossing the I-90 Bridge, I thought about my hotel room – just a block away. I could see the Comfort Inn that we were staying at and inwardly laughed at myself for waning to trade IHOP for the race. There is no other place I would rather be at, I told myself.
I am exactly where I am supposed to be, I thought. There is no sense in thinking about the past or what’s going to happen a few hours from now. I am supposed to be right here, right now. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world….
Cruising into town, I pulled myself out of aero and prepared to make the sharp right turn away from transition onto Northwest Blvd. Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure in blue striding towards the barricades on the right side of the street.
“Hi Dad!” I yelled and I rode by.
It was as though time stood still. I first recognized the blue jacket – a staple of my Dad’s since I was a little girl. His features stood out clearly and I was flooded with happiness at the sight of him. I would have given anything to stop and give him a giant hug, but all too quickly the moment passed. I could hear my Mom yelling from somewhere off in the distance, but I was already around the corner and focused on the road ahead.
Again – emotions started getting to me, and I had to bite my lip in order to stop myself from tearing up. Seeing my family – my Dad – and knowing that Nathaniel and my Mom were close at hand were enough to send me soaring, icky stomach and all.
I heard my name shouted a few more times while riding through town, and tried to smile or carefully wave at anyone I could. The speed I was doing on the bike prevented me from really slowing and getting a good look – but just knowing that friends were there made all the difference to me.
Back through the residential areas and then onto Lake Coeur d’Alene Drive, up the mini-6% hill, past the bag pipers (still going!) and then past special needs. I saw several people pull over and grab their bags – munching on sandwiches or adding gels or other food items to their back pockets. None for me – I thought as I kept to the middle of the road and away from the volunteers. A bit further up the road I saw a few guys on their “natural break”, and actually envied them for a bit. How easy would THAT be – just pull over, whip it out, and pee?
Then again, they've got other issues to deal with. Like being a guy. Um - yeah. Not so much. Enough said.
But again – sticking to my heart rate and nutritional plan – I pressed on. Every few minutes, I would reassess. Stomach was very gradually getting better. The bloating was going down and I know I was getting the calories in that I needed. The Carbopro 1200 was still great – I was taking it every hour on the thirty minute mark, and I was very careful with the gels. As long as I diluted them with enough water – everything was fine. Salt didn’t seem to be too much of a factor – but at the 3:15 mark, I took two salt tabs. With the CarboPro and gels combined, I was ingesting approximately 350 mg salt per hour – but I just wanted to be on the safe side. I doubled my salt intake and continued to assess.
I didn’t feel as though I was cramping – but I knew that down the line my body would most likely need the extra salt and electrolytes that came with it.
One more pass through town – hearing my name twice and not able to respond in time – and I was making my way up towards Lake Hayden. I was interested to see how my body would respond to the second round of hills. Already I was beginning to pass more people, and my heart rate was remaining steady in the upper zone 2, low zone 3 limits that Jen and I had discussed. If anything, I was actually feeling – stronger?
No….that couldn’t be. Could it?
Past the high school where I had set out to ride with Deirdre a few days earlier…and then up a short hill past the golf course onto Lake Hayden. I just kept going – one pedal stroke after another. My body felt good – strong and steady. The bike shorts were great and so far my feet felt good in the shoes. My stomach was much more settled, but still didn’t feel great. I figured that it never WOULD feel good while I was tucked in aero…so in that weird way, I looked forward to the run and being able to stand upright and stretch it out.
And then I passed the 25/81 sign. Yes, the race has officially begun, I told myself. Only this time I was actually the one passing people. One of the girls I recognized from the first loop was just ahead, and I tried to offer her some words of encouragement as I went by. But she looked tired, spent. And I was reminded of what could have been, had I decided to “race” the first 40 or 50 miles.
Half-way up one of the false flat and seemingly never-ending climbs (you know the ones – you climb, then it sort 0f levels out, and then you climb some more and the hill levels out and then you see MORE hill. First lap – not so bad. Second lap – just plain annoying. But at that point, it’s not like I’m going to stop, right?), I hear a rider coming up to pass me on my left.
“Marit…?” he asks. And immediately I recognize a friendly face.
“Rob!” I yell. “Great job!! How are you?”
“Good – really good. Are you getting enough fluids? Remember to eat and drink!” He calls as he passes by.
“Yeah – thanks! Hang in there, you’re looking great!” I respond.
Immediately I feel my mood lifted. I knew that Rob was coached by Elizabeth, and she would surely have told him to be smart on the course. I watched him climb the rest of the hill, sitting upright and turning over his legs – making it look easy. And I realized I was pretty much doing the same thing. Sitting upright, turning over my legs…but probably NOT making it look quite that easy.
Seeing Rob really helped to validate my own ride, in a weird way. I knew that I wasn’t the only one out there sticking to my heart rate, going easy on the hills. For the next several miles, I kept Rob in my sights – never intentionally hanging with him, but following my heart rate. It was comical, almost. I would see him hit the bottom of a hill, immediately sit up, spin, shift, and carry on like it was any casual ride.
And then, thirty seconds later, I would do the same thing myself.
Somewhere around the 4 or 4:30 mark my stomach started feeling better. I was no longer throwing up and I was able to get more and more water in. The hills were becoming less and less challenging and I could feel my body responding. My heart rate actually started dropping, which I attributed to built-up fatigue. At my next timed swig of Carbo Pro, I made sure to take in an extra gulp or two (100 or 200) calories of liquid and water.
Success!
Everything stayed down – and while my stomach was never fully comfortable, at least it was cooperating.
That’s it! I told myself. You’re doing great! Just hang in there! Hit the 90 mile mark and then you can start to go faster, if you want! Yes yes yes! That’s it!
And lucky for me – at this point I realized that I kind-of-needed-to-but-didn’t-want-to-pull-over and pee. I had seen one woman relieving herself while riding, and countless guys. But try as I might, my body just didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
One of the only remaining symptoms from last year’s bike crash: some of the nerve damage still remains and peeing on the bike takes extra special concentration and focus. I knew that I needed to go, but was afraid of pushing so hard for fear that something unintentional might explode elsewhere. Lovely! In addition to cramps, bloating, and general discomfort, the dried cranberries which I had consumed some 7 hours earlier, had now played havoc in my lower GI system. And I wasn’t sure if I was just gassy or really needed to use a port-o-potty. Hhhhmmmmmm.
Not something I was willing to risk (yet) with blue shorts. Um, yeah. Not so much.
But I pushed that happy thought out of my mind and went back to focusing on my race, sticking to my heart rate zones, taking it easy on the hills, and constantly reassessing my mental and physical state.
Rob and I continued to go back and forth – offering encouragement anytime one passed the other. It was great just seeing a friendly face, even though we had never officially met (hello bloggers – we DO exist!). Additionally, I kept getting a kick out of seeing him bike up the rollers – because we pretty much sat up, shifted into the easy gear (well, at least I did), and spun.
Somewhere around the 5 hour mark, I started calculating how much longer I would be on the bike. With just under 20 miles left, I thought that getting in less than 6 hours was a possibility. But I wasn’t going to be disappointed if it didn’t happen. I knew the variables – course, hills, wind (and the winds continued to pick up as the day progressed), bike mechanical, and my mental/physical state – could drastically alter. In the back of my mind though, I thought I could do it. I believed in myself – and in the end, that’s a BIG part of what made it work (for me).
I took in another gel and two salt tabs, put my head down and rode. My heart rate was still in my upper zone 2, low zone 3 – although I continued to regard it less and less. I was feeling good, almost too good. I was passing more and more people – notably a few girls in my age group and other women who had (perhaps) been a bit overzealous in the beginning. Or maybe it was just me – perhaps I was the one who had taken things too easy.
Before the thought could run away in my head, I reminded myself that I still had 15 miles to bike and a MARATHON to run. Is there any such thing as “too easy”?
Ahem.
In the last ten miles, I realized a few things about my bike. First – I LOVE the fit. Robert Driskell’s bike analysis and fit at Competition Sports in Gulfport Mississippi was wonderful. Second – I LOVE my saddle. Third – I LOVE the bike shorts (thank you Courtenay!). Fourth – 10 miles was the LIMIT. I was NOT interested in biking any more than 112 miles.
I was still comfortable, yes. But I was beginning to do the bike-seat-squirm. You know the one? Where you wiggle your pelvis back and forth a bit, trying to establish the “most comfortable” position. Which is really a big joke – because after 105 miles, no bike seat and no bike short will be totally comfortable. A few times I tried to stand up and stretch my legs – but the legs were fine. It was my seat that needed the relief.
The bumps that I hit going over the I-90 Bridge were, um, unpleasant. And I caught myself looking wistfully over towards the hotel. Just a marathon and THEN I would be there…
Generally though, and especially in the last hour, I felt as though I had been getting stronger and stronger. My pace – which I rarely glanced at throughout the race, just because I didn’t want to fall into the trap of holding XX mph for the duration – was slowly creeping upwards. I felt comfortable bridging the gap to small clusters of athletes up the road, passing them, and then putting the next bunch in my sights.
One final turn past the transition zone up towards the highway 95 turn around, and I knew I was almost there. I saw a flash of pink on the other side of the road, and recognized a girl who had blown by me very early on – before the Point Higgins turn around. The pink outfit was a bit easy to spot…sort of like a pink bike saddle in transition, I suppose.
It was at this point that I started thinking about peeing on the bike (again). I tried to relax and make myself go without anything unexpected occurring – but it just didn’t work. I really did need to pee – which made me happy to a certain extent. I knew that my body was processing liquids and that I had been getting enough fluid in my system. But I just didn’t want to take the time to actually DO it. Oh well – in an Ironman, what do you expect?
And really, I would much rather have to use the bathroom than not. (To a certain extent!)
Rounding the turn, I sat up and generally coasted down the slight hill towards the transition. I kept the gearing light, cadence high, and mentally prepared myself for the marathon ahead. Moreover though, I was grateful for the ride that I had accomplished. I had been smart, had stuck to my plan, and did NOT let my heart rate sky rocket (even though I was really tempted early on). Better yet – NO bike mechanical issues! Yea! Even more important though, when things got tough with my stomach, I had remained upbeat and mostly positive. It seemed pretty incredible, actually – that nearly six hours had passed. Yet it only felt like one or two.
I kept to the right and made the final turn towards the transition. I could see the bike catchers awaiting my bike and I carefully slipped my feet out of my shoes. Nope – didn’t do the fancy ITU-style flying dismount. Yeah – at this point I didn’t trust my legs to make the clearance over my rear water bottle cages. Instead I coasted in, applied the brakes, stopped, breathed a sigh of relief, managed to swing my right leg over the saddle, and stepped away from the bike. Yea!
I heard my name shouted from somewhere in the crowd, and I thought that I recognized Molly and her box of cupcakes – but I couldn’t be sure. I waved, smiled, and yelled, “Just a marathon to go! Yea!”
I pushed my bike towards the catchers and ran under the BIKE IN banner.
Just a transition and marathon to go…
The cheers and yells were deafening as I carefully threw my leg over the bike seat and set off on my 112 mile ride. I had to focus to keep my heart rate down as I pedaled away from T1, but the crowd support was such that I wanted to go hard, wanted to be fast. But I didn’t.
And that was essentially how I rode the bike during my first Ironman.
Steady.
Strong.
Solid.
Consistent.
Nothing fancy and absolutely NO CHASING of anyone – no matter the gender or age group when they passed. But it was hard, very challenging for me. I wanted to go, I so wanted to time trial and blow by everyone, and I was feeling GREAT. But I knew that any (more) moments of stupidity (remember the eating of dried cranberries and how my stomach just felt ‘off’ after breakfast…?), and I would surely not have the race I was capable of.
So instead, I swallowed my pride, focused on my heart rate, and figured I would race my own race.
I knew going into the race that one of the bigger challenges for me, would be letting the throngs of bikers blow by me in the first few hours of the race. And they did not disappoint.
While leaving the town and twisting through the streets on the way out to Higgins Point on Coeur d’Alene Drive, I found myself sitting upright, out of my aero bars. First, it allowed the masses (and some packs – shame on them!) of people to pass. But more importantly, I needed to settle my heart rate. It was still higher than what I wanted, peaking in the mid 160s. Jen and Jerome had warned me that I would be a tad high at the onset of the bike, due mostly to adrenaline. But I wanted it down – in the upper 140s and low 150s (upper zone 2 and low zone 3) like I had planned, and practiced (over and over and over again).
After a few minutes is was still higher than I wanted, but I figured I would just go with whatever my body had to offer. I was feeling great, and my perceived exertion was on par with that of a recovery ride. It felt easy, light, and effortless. Unfortunately, my heart rate wasn’t cooperating. Oh well, I figured – it will settle, probably within the first 45 minutes or so. Just keep the effort light…
Keep the effort light….
Let them pass…
Still, more and more and MORE people passed. And I moved as far over to the right as I could – and just let them go by.
Yet every instinct, every bit of me wanted to go – especially when the girls started zooming by.
But I was more afraid of blowing up later on, more afraid of the damage I could possibly do down the line, than charging forward.
Within the first few miles on the bike, my race had turned into an exercise of self-control.
Very quickly I came upon the first hill – a quick ½ mile and 6% climb – on Lake Coeur d’Alene Drive. Shifting into my small ring and 25th gear on the rear cog (is that technically the lowest gear or highest? I can never tell. Oh well), I spun up. Looking around, I noticed even MORE people charging up the hill; it would have been easy to do because of ALL the spectators and bagpipers at the top. The mood was festive, air charged with energy. But I kept it light, simple, easy. And while I spun up the hill, I recalled all of my Palomar climbs. If I could climb THAT Mountain, I could surely do this.
And then I remembered my great friend Shannon, who was willing to climb Palomar with me on very little training and right after earning her PhD. Hell, if SHE could suffer up that thing in order to spend time with me before moving up to Berkley, then the least I could do would be to think of her during these comparatively lesser climbs.
But thinking of Shannon, made me think of Meredith – and my thoughts were with them quite a bit during my day. I also remembered Jen – the friend and coach – who helped me achieve my goals and was there for me thick and thin. And then I thought about Elizabeth, and even though we didn’t have the years we thought we would last season, her thoughtful words and card when things were really tough meant the world.
And…before I could think of too many other people who helped me along the way, I started chocking up. The emotions of it all – what I was currently doing (my FIRST Ironman, and I survived the swim!) all the way back to when times were tough last year, and then coming full circle into the person I am – were just too much. Cresting the top of the first hill on the bike course, I could feel the tears at the corners of my eyes. More alarming though, was the fact that breathing was becoming difficult.
Too many emotions can be a bad thing, I guess.
I used the downhill to coast and gather my thoughts. I would carry the love and support of my family and friends with me throughout the day – but just at the right time. Bawling my eyes out before even the first Higgins Point turnaround barely 10 miles into the bike ride surely wasn’t a good plan. Besides, if Jen were here she would probably shake some sense into me and yell, “Toughen up, Butter cup!”
Reaching the Higgins Point turnaround afforded me my first glimpse of the bike special needs bags. There they were – stacked and waiting for us on the second loop. I thought momentarily of how I DIDN’T pack anything in mine, and wondered if I had made a mistake. Oh well – I had two spare Co2 cartridges, a pre-stretched and pre-glued spare tubular, two valve extenders, my inflator, and two tire levers. Hopefully they would suffice.
Instead, I distracted myself with an overall assessment – something that I would continue to do every few minutes on the bike. How are the legs? Arms? Neck? Everything feeling good? Okay – great! How about that stomach? Not so good…hhhhmmmm…..it will settle, just give it time. Okay – how’s the heart rate? Sticking to the zone? It’s still a tad high – but you’ve only been on the bike for 30 minutes – give it a few more minutes to settle into the upper 140s. Okay – now that it’s been exactly 30 minutes, time to start taking in the nutrition. Two or three sips of CarboPro 1200. Okay – great job! Yeah! Stomach still isn’t great – have some water.
But even after passing back through town and making my way out towards Lake Hayden, my stomach failed to settle. In fact, it started feeling…worse. I looked down and noticed that it seemed a bit bloated. It had been awful ever since I ate my concoction of oatmeal, Greek yogurt and hastily added cranberries. Something wasn’t right – and I suspected my last minute dried fruit was the culprit.
Sure enough, a few minutes later and just before hitting the 20 mile mark on the bike (just over an hour in), I threw up a big amount of water-Carbopro 1200-gel- and…the last remains of dried cranberries, which were now the pleasant color of brown. I know – because half of it was stuck to my arm. Lovely.
Better out than in – I though grimly to myself. On the one hand I was happy that my body was at least doing SOMETHING to settle the stomach. On the other, I was terrified that I had ruined my race by doing something so stupid. But, I figured there was NOTHING AT THAT POINT that I could do to change what had already been done. All I could do was continue to eat and drink – like I had practiced.
I waited a few minutes and then at 1:05 took in another gel, figuring I had thrown up most of the first and that I NEEDED to get some calories into my system. There was NO WAY I could get through another 90+ miles of biking AND run a marathon with an uncooperative digestive tract. So I gingerly sipped water and alternated sucking down the gel…It took about 5 or 6 minutes to finish that sucker off, but I was rewarded with no immediate throwing up.
Hooray for the small victories!
That’s it, I told my stomach. You’re doing great – just hang in there! It’s okay to feel icky. I’m going to keep biking, keep going at this pace. You can feel as gross as you want – just please please please continue to digest and process my food. I don’t care how bloated and distended you get – just absorb the nutrients. Hang in there! You can do it!!
Somewhere during this stretch I passed the 25/81 mile sign on the bike course. Looking down at my heart rate, I was rewarded with a steady ‘148’ – and my body (except for the stomach – but it was mostly processing the food, so I wasn’t about to get too picky) felt great.
“This is where the race starts on the second loop.”
I know for a fact that I said those words aloud, because one guy passing me gave me a funny look, and sort of shook his head. Oops. Too late for modesty at this point, right? There I was, bloated tummy, willing my way forward in my first Ironman. What would YOU have done?
Shortly thereafter I hit the hillier section of the course. Later I discovered that there was in excess of 6,000+ feet gained during the entire bike portion – but the hills themselves didn’t seem too bad. Nothing was really long or steep – just a consistent grind. The tricky part, though – were the 90 degree turns or sharp twists at the bottom, conveniently located to slow your speed and stop any coasting up to the next hill.
I turned it into a game: descend fast, downshift in preparation of the next turn, slow, watch an overzealous rider overshoot the turn and end up in the ditch or driveway, sit up, make the turn, and slowly spin up the hill. It was constant. Descend, shift, slow, sit up, turn, climb – spinning all the way up.
Never have I been so grateful to have driven the course. That was a lifesaver - something that I would strongly recommend to any future CDA-people out there.
It was an interesting game – how much thinking there was. I was constantly reassessing my stomach, watching for warning signs from the rest of my body, and trying to remain upbeat. I was grateful for my preparation – the long rides through Southern California, the local hills, and Jen’s workouts – had done the trick. It was just a matter of ME – being smart, staying up beat, and assessing my nutrition.
During one of the out and back portions I saw Ludi’s blue Mark Allen Online Elite Team race helmet and yelled her name. It made me happy to see her out on the course, and I was grateful that she had gotten through what was undoubtedly a tough swim.
The minutes seemed to melt into 15 minutes segments, and before I knew it I was chomping on another chocolate gel – 2:00 into the ride. About five minutes later, the dried cranberries decided to strike again, and I was left with a combination of chocolate gel and chunks of brown partially digested and dried fruit on my other shoulder. It tasted sour and bitter, and I tried washing it down with a little water. I figured that I had gotten most of the gel in, as only a little came back up – but I made a mental note to continue to monitor my stomach. (As if I wasn't already!)
If I don’t mind…then it won’t matter. As long as I’m getting some calories in, I can deal with the discomfort. It WILL go down, it WILL get better. Mind over matter…If I don’t mind than it won’t matter….
Luckily the conditions were nearly ideal for someone with stomach issues. The heat really wasn’t much of a factor (if at all) and I wasn’t as thirsty as I had thought I would be. In fact, after 40 miles, I had barely consumed one full bottle of water. I knew that I would need to continue to push fluids – but I would be smart about it.
The hills became less and less frequent and while passing an aide station somewhere around the 42 mile mark, I made an effort to thank the volunteers. They were great – cheering everyone as we rode past. I stuck to my own nutrition and thought briefly about grabbing a bottle of water. No need – not yet anyways. Perhaps on the second loop, when my stomach was more settled.
At this point there were still quite a bit of cat-and-mouse-like games going on between me and other riders. I would pass someone on a downhill and then they would re-pass on the ups. And vice versa. I made an effort to call people out by their names and offer encouragement to anyone that I could. I really didn’t care if they looked back or said anything – it made ME feel better. And it reminded me of riding with friends.
I generally tried to stay positive – during training AND while racing. Some days it’s easier than others. But I figure an upbeat attitude is half the battle in most cases.
The road really began to flatten out as we turned back towards Coeur d’Alene. I could see other riders off in the distance through the long stretches of road. I was passed by a few women – but the pair that passed sounded as though they were working really hard. I figured I would reel them in later, and if not – oh well. There was nothing I could do, save stick to my plan.
After crossing the I-90 Bridge, I thought about my hotel room – just a block away. I could see the Comfort Inn that we were staying at and inwardly laughed at myself for waning to trade IHOP for the race. There is no other place I would rather be at, I told myself.
I am exactly where I am supposed to be, I thought. There is no sense in thinking about the past or what’s going to happen a few hours from now. I am supposed to be right here, right now. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world….
Cruising into town, I pulled myself out of aero and prepared to make the sharp right turn away from transition onto Northwest Blvd. Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure in blue striding towards the barricades on the right side of the street.
“Hi Dad!” I yelled and I rode by.
It was as though time stood still. I first recognized the blue jacket – a staple of my Dad’s since I was a little girl. His features stood out clearly and I was flooded with happiness at the sight of him. I would have given anything to stop and give him a giant hug, but all too quickly the moment passed. I could hear my Mom yelling from somewhere off in the distance, but I was already around the corner and focused on the road ahead.
Again – emotions started getting to me, and I had to bite my lip in order to stop myself from tearing up. Seeing my family – my Dad – and knowing that Nathaniel and my Mom were close at hand were enough to send me soaring, icky stomach and all.
I heard my name shouted a few more times while riding through town, and tried to smile or carefully wave at anyone I could. The speed I was doing on the bike prevented me from really slowing and getting a good look – but just knowing that friends were there made all the difference to me.
Back through the residential areas and then onto Lake Coeur d’Alene Drive, up the mini-6% hill, past the bag pipers (still going!) and then past special needs. I saw several people pull over and grab their bags – munching on sandwiches or adding gels or other food items to their back pockets. None for me – I thought as I kept to the middle of the road and away from the volunteers. A bit further up the road I saw a few guys on their “natural break”, and actually envied them for a bit. How easy would THAT be – just pull over, whip it out, and pee?
Then again, they've got other issues to deal with. Like being a guy. Um - yeah. Not so much. Enough said.
But again – sticking to my heart rate and nutritional plan – I pressed on. Every few minutes, I would reassess. Stomach was very gradually getting better. The bloating was going down and I know I was getting the calories in that I needed. The Carbopro 1200 was still great – I was taking it every hour on the thirty minute mark, and I was very careful with the gels. As long as I diluted them with enough water – everything was fine. Salt didn’t seem to be too much of a factor – but at the 3:15 mark, I took two salt tabs. With the CarboPro and gels combined, I was ingesting approximately 350 mg salt per hour – but I just wanted to be on the safe side. I doubled my salt intake and continued to assess.
I didn’t feel as though I was cramping – but I knew that down the line my body would most likely need the extra salt and electrolytes that came with it.
One more pass through town – hearing my name twice and not able to respond in time – and I was making my way up towards Lake Hayden. I was interested to see how my body would respond to the second round of hills. Already I was beginning to pass more people, and my heart rate was remaining steady in the upper zone 2, low zone 3 limits that Jen and I had discussed. If anything, I was actually feeling – stronger?
No….that couldn’t be. Could it?
Past the high school where I had set out to ride with Deirdre a few days earlier…and then up a short hill past the golf course onto Lake Hayden. I just kept going – one pedal stroke after another. My body felt good – strong and steady. The bike shorts were great and so far my feet felt good in the shoes. My stomach was much more settled, but still didn’t feel great. I figured that it never WOULD feel good while I was tucked in aero…so in that weird way, I looked forward to the run and being able to stand upright and stretch it out.
And then I passed the 25/81 sign. Yes, the race has officially begun, I told myself. Only this time I was actually the one passing people. One of the girls I recognized from the first loop was just ahead, and I tried to offer her some words of encouragement as I went by. But she looked tired, spent. And I was reminded of what could have been, had I decided to “race” the first 40 or 50 miles.
Half-way up one of the false flat and seemingly never-ending climbs (you know the ones – you climb, then it sort 0f levels out, and then you climb some more and the hill levels out and then you see MORE hill. First lap – not so bad. Second lap – just plain annoying. But at that point, it’s not like I’m going to stop, right?), I hear a rider coming up to pass me on my left.
“Marit…?” he asks. And immediately I recognize a friendly face.
“Rob!” I yell. “Great job!! How are you?”
“Good – really good. Are you getting enough fluids? Remember to eat and drink!” He calls as he passes by.
“Yeah – thanks! Hang in there, you’re looking great!” I respond.
Immediately I feel my mood lifted. I knew that Rob was coached by Elizabeth, and she would surely have told him to be smart on the course. I watched him climb the rest of the hill, sitting upright and turning over his legs – making it look easy. And I realized I was pretty much doing the same thing. Sitting upright, turning over my legs…but probably NOT making it look quite that easy.
Seeing Rob really helped to validate my own ride, in a weird way. I knew that I wasn’t the only one out there sticking to my heart rate, going easy on the hills. For the next several miles, I kept Rob in my sights – never intentionally hanging with him, but following my heart rate. It was comical, almost. I would see him hit the bottom of a hill, immediately sit up, spin, shift, and carry on like it was any casual ride.
And then, thirty seconds later, I would do the same thing myself.
Somewhere around the 4 or 4:30 mark my stomach started feeling better. I was no longer throwing up and I was able to get more and more water in. The hills were becoming less and less challenging and I could feel my body responding. My heart rate actually started dropping, which I attributed to built-up fatigue. At my next timed swig of Carbo Pro, I made sure to take in an extra gulp or two (100 or 200) calories of liquid and water.
Success!
Everything stayed down – and while my stomach was never fully comfortable, at least it was cooperating.
That’s it! I told myself. You’re doing great! Just hang in there! Hit the 90 mile mark and then you can start to go faster, if you want! Yes yes yes! That’s it!
And lucky for me – at this point I realized that I kind-of-needed-to-but-didn’t-want-to-pull-over and pee. I had seen one woman relieving herself while riding, and countless guys. But try as I might, my body just didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
One of the only remaining symptoms from last year’s bike crash: some of the nerve damage still remains and peeing on the bike takes extra special concentration and focus. I knew that I needed to go, but was afraid of pushing so hard for fear that something unintentional might explode elsewhere. Lovely! In addition to cramps, bloating, and general discomfort, the dried cranberries which I had consumed some 7 hours earlier, had now played havoc in my lower GI system. And I wasn’t sure if I was just gassy or really needed to use a port-o-potty. Hhhhmmmmmm.
Not something I was willing to risk (yet) with blue shorts. Um, yeah. Not so much.
But I pushed that happy thought out of my mind and went back to focusing on my race, sticking to my heart rate zones, taking it easy on the hills, and constantly reassessing my mental and physical state.
Rob and I continued to go back and forth – offering encouragement anytime one passed the other. It was great just seeing a friendly face, even though we had never officially met (hello bloggers – we DO exist!). Additionally, I kept getting a kick out of seeing him bike up the rollers – because we pretty much sat up, shifted into the easy gear (well, at least I did), and spun.
Somewhere around the 5 hour mark, I started calculating how much longer I would be on the bike. With just under 20 miles left, I thought that getting in less than 6 hours was a possibility. But I wasn’t going to be disappointed if it didn’t happen. I knew the variables – course, hills, wind (and the winds continued to pick up as the day progressed), bike mechanical, and my mental/physical state – could drastically alter. In the back of my mind though, I thought I could do it. I believed in myself – and in the end, that’s a BIG part of what made it work (for me).
I took in another gel and two salt tabs, put my head down and rode. My heart rate was still in my upper zone 2, low zone 3 – although I continued to regard it less and less. I was feeling good, almost too good. I was passing more and more people – notably a few girls in my age group and other women who had (perhaps) been a bit overzealous in the beginning. Or maybe it was just me – perhaps I was the one who had taken things too easy.
Before the thought could run away in my head, I reminded myself that I still had 15 miles to bike and a MARATHON to run. Is there any such thing as “too easy”?
Ahem.
In the last ten miles, I realized a few things about my bike. First – I LOVE the fit. Robert Driskell’s bike analysis and fit at Competition Sports in Gulfport Mississippi was wonderful. Second – I LOVE my saddle. Third – I LOVE the bike shorts (thank you Courtenay!). Fourth – 10 miles was the LIMIT. I was NOT interested in biking any more than 112 miles.
I was still comfortable, yes. But I was beginning to do the bike-seat-squirm. You know the one? Where you wiggle your pelvis back and forth a bit, trying to establish the “most comfortable” position. Which is really a big joke – because after 105 miles, no bike seat and no bike short will be totally comfortable. A few times I tried to stand up and stretch my legs – but the legs were fine. It was my seat that needed the relief.
The bumps that I hit going over the I-90 Bridge were, um, unpleasant. And I caught myself looking wistfully over towards the hotel. Just a marathon and THEN I would be there…
Generally though, and especially in the last hour, I felt as though I had been getting stronger and stronger. My pace – which I rarely glanced at throughout the race, just because I didn’t want to fall into the trap of holding XX mph for the duration – was slowly creeping upwards. I felt comfortable bridging the gap to small clusters of athletes up the road, passing them, and then putting the next bunch in my sights.
One final turn past the transition zone up towards the highway 95 turn around, and I knew I was almost there. I saw a flash of pink on the other side of the road, and recognized a girl who had blown by me very early on – before the Point Higgins turn around. The pink outfit was a bit easy to spot…sort of like a pink bike saddle in transition, I suppose.
It was at this point that I started thinking about peeing on the bike (again). I tried to relax and make myself go without anything unexpected occurring – but it just didn’t work. I really did need to pee – which made me happy to a certain extent. I knew that my body was processing liquids and that I had been getting enough fluid in my system. But I just didn’t want to take the time to actually DO it. Oh well – in an Ironman, what do you expect?
And really, I would much rather have to use the bathroom than not. (To a certain extent!)
Rounding the turn, I sat up and generally coasted down the slight hill towards the transition. I kept the gearing light, cadence high, and mentally prepared myself for the marathon ahead. Moreover though, I was grateful for the ride that I had accomplished. I had been smart, had stuck to my plan, and did NOT let my heart rate sky rocket (even though I was really tempted early on). Better yet – NO bike mechanical issues! Yea! Even more important though, when things got tough with my stomach, I had remained upbeat and mostly positive. It seemed pretty incredible, actually – that nearly six hours had passed. Yet it only felt like one or two.
I kept to the right and made the final turn towards the transition. I could see the bike catchers awaiting my bike and I carefully slipped my feet out of my shoes. Nope – didn’t do the fancy ITU-style flying dismount. Yeah – at this point I didn’t trust my legs to make the clearance over my rear water bottle cages. Instead I coasted in, applied the brakes, stopped, breathed a sigh of relief, managed to swing my right leg over the saddle, and stepped away from the bike. Yea!
I heard my name shouted from somewhere in the crowd, and I thought that I recognized Molly and her box of cupcakes – but I couldn’t be sure. I waved, smiled, and yelled, “Just a marathon to go! Yea!”
I pushed my bike towards the catchers and ran under the BIKE IN banner.
Just a transition and marathon to go…
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Ironman Coeur d'Alene RR, part 1
note: THANKS for your patience. I know it has been a stupidly-long time since my race, but I had hoped to get the entire race report out in one bit. Lucky for you, its just so darned long that I'll put it out in bits. Today is the pre-race, swim, and first transition. Enjoy! Oh - and sit back with a cup of coffee, beer, wine, or beverage of your choice. Or all, even...
Well. I've got exactly 10:49:2? to get this race report out. But I think my Bainbridge Island friends (and family) will go nuts if I commandeer the computer for that long. So - lucky for YOU!
Here we go....
Is ignorance really bliss?
It’s a question I pondered in the weeks leading up to Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Would I rather go into the race knowing or not knowing...? I knew there would be highs and lows...I had mentally prepared myself to the best of my ability. And furthermore, I trusted Jen's plan. Completely. I felt ready, was extremely well tapered, and was chomping at the bit to GO!
I knew the energy build-up was reaching a boiling point when 48 hours before race start, I contemplated "sprinting" down the hall towards breakfast. Nope the hunger wasn't that bad and yes, I had to keep myself from running. Save it for Sunday....I kept reminding myself.
But the night before the race and race morning I felt overwhelmed. Physically I KNEW I had trained and was ready. It was just overcoming the mental hurdle...of making peace with the fact that I was about to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, and run 26.2. I felt silly for even thinking I could go the distance, and tried to convince Nathaniel to drive me back to the hotel on race morning. I figured that I would skip the race, hide under the covers, and drown myself in a sorrow-induced IHOP breakfast.
Instead, I woke up at 3:50, a full ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Without turning on any lights in the main hotel room, I gathered my pre-race breakfast of oatmeal with greek yogurt and dried fruit, baby food bananas, and headed towards the breakfast room at the hotel. Somehow, I met up with Tasha and Deirdre, and we all ate breakfast together – mostly in silence. Tasha looked about as cheery as I felt, and it was all I could do to force my oatmeal down.
It just didn’t taste right. I had incorrectly guessed the water to oatmeal measurement, and the stuff I was eating resembled paste. In addition, I had forgotten to add my dried fruit to said oatmeal BEFORE it got micro waved – so I hastily tossed in a handful after the fact (ROOKIE MISTAKE – I SHOULD HAVE NEVER TOSSED IN THE UNCOOKED DRIED FRUIT. IT CAME BACK TO HAUNT ME DURING MY RACE. STUPID MISTAKE #1. I’m embarrassed to admit it – but figure that if I can prevent anyone else from doing something dumb and different before their first Ironman, well, than what I did won’t be in vain. Besides, my story has a happy ending!)
Deirdre convinced me to eat all of my breakfast and deep down I knew she was right. It just tasted awful and my stomach was just full of knots.
Eventually I made my way back to the room, where to my delight – Mom, Dad, and Nathaniel were all awake and awaiting my return. I hastily threw on my race gear, said a few farewells to the parents, and Nathaniel and I headed out the door in the early morning light. The sun had already risen and the sky looked beautiful. It promised to be a gorgeous day (there – I jinxed it!)
But once in the car on the way to the race site, things went from your-typical-race-morning-jitters to horrible doubts and tears. The enormity of what I was about to attempt, the fears, the emotions – once again overwhelmed me and it was all I could do to keep myself IN the moving vehicle. Dashing out at the next stop sign seemed pretty darned tempting. I could run away and forget everything – start afresh in Alaska!
Actually – IHOP would do just fine.
The Healthy breakfast of blueberry pancakes and banannas and egg product (cholesterol free!) combined with sausage, hash browns, and bacon. We can't all be good all the time...right?
But Nathaniel managed to calm me down. He was perfect, and his thoughtful questions about why I loved the sport helped to sort me out. And THEN he suggested that I call Jen. “If you’re really feeling this bad and that you don’t want to race, I guarantee she’ll know what to tell you.”
I shrugged his suggestion off, knowing that at this point there was nothing anyone could actually DO for me, except to make me feel better. In all reality, I was terrified of the race, afraid of the swim, fearful of blowing up on the bike….For now, I would be just HAPPY to make it to the run. And then there was that marathon thing….
Somehow, after another teary exchange in the car, Nathaniel and I walked down towards transition and before too long I had deposited some last minute products in my gear bags (hello Mother Nature! Thank god for tampons and midol. Too much information, I know...but imagine how ticked off I was! Sheesh - you think you do all you can to control your body and its cycle and then WHAM! Something hits out of left field. Brilliant. But hey - a little fluid retention would be good...right?), and then added my water bottles to my bike. After borrowing a pump and getting my tires topped off - I realized there was not much of anything else I could do.
There were a few other girls from my age group in transition - we all looked pretty much the same, except for one stupidly happy one. She was bouncing all over the place, excited and ready to go – I felt like I wanted to punch her. How could she be so happy, while I felt as though I was being lead to my execution. She looked at me and commented, "Oh my gosh - you really ARE nervous! What's there to be nervous about??? You swim...you bike and if you get a flat tire, you fix it... and...."
Before she finished, I had walked away. I know it was rude, but I didn't even feel bad - besides, she had muttered the "f" word.
Flat.
Thank you! If I wasn't nervous enough, now there was something else to consider. Brilliant. Perky b----.
After standing in the port-o-potty line and doing my usual morning business (thank you! thank you thank you thank you!!!!), I found my old Pensacola training partner Ludi and...basically....stuck to her side.
Ludi, I, and her friend Paula walked around the race grounds, got away from the pre-race hubub and just talked. I have no recollection of what we spoke about - I was too nervous. Eventually we applied body glide (everywhere! THANK YOU Missy! Her advice of body gliding every inch of your body where there is or may be a seam was WONDERFUL! I only had one small bit of chafing and it wasn't even bad!), chamois cream, and Vaseline to the back of my neck (in addition to the body glide...but hey - NO wetsuit bite! YEA!), and pulled on the wetsuits. I added a double cap - silicone under my race cap...the water wasn't too cold - mid 60s at last I heard - but I wanted to make sure my head stayed warm.
The air temperature was hovering in the mid to upper 50s and the wind was really picking up. Holding hands, Ludi and I made our way through the transition zone that had become a zoo of spectators, bid farewell to Paula, and made our way down towards the water. It was jam packed with spectators sitting on the rock wall, and other racers – looking as grim as I felt – heading towards the one opening that lead to the sandy beach.
It was a good 5 or 10 minute walk/shuffle until we were finally lined up on the sand. "Just hold my hand," Ludi whispered.
I was grateful. My teeth were chattering, but it wasn't from the cold. It was nerves. The water looked wavy and choppy, and I could see a few packs of various pro triathletes - who had started 35 minutes before our official start - making their way bravely against the chop. It looked rough and I pitied the small group towards the back who would surely not make it out before the masses of age groupers had their start (as it was - they didn't).
I told Ludi I was going to get in and get acclimated to the water, and she mentioned that she would look for me and watch for me when I was done. There was NO WAY that I wanted to lose contact with her before the race start - but I did want to get wet and get a feel for the water before the start. Looking back - I'm glad that I did. It felt a little cool at first, but after a few strokes I found a good groove. Very quickly a kayak approached me and told me I could only swim paralell to shore - so I turned back in. Not wanting to lose Ludi in the mess of triathletes, I returned to my starting point and climbed out.
Ludi and I quickly found each other and held hands.... We lined up towards the left side - right along the inside of the buoy line....and waited. We could hear the race announcer counting down three minutes, two minutes, and then one minute... I adjusted my goggles one last time, thanked Ludi and told her that I loved her and waited for the cannon fire. The crowd pressed in, and even though we were two or three rows back from the front, I felt myself being pushed from behind towards the water's edge.
Even though I was surrounded by thousands of triathletes and even more spectators - I had never felt so alone.
And then - BOOM!
The cannon fired and Ludi and I plunged into the water - holding hands until the very last moment.
THE SWIM (1:07):
Looking back, I know that I didn't go out hard enough. Conservative was the name of my game for my first Ironman - but in the future, I'll be sure to go out a bit harder. The water was choppy and extremely wavy - whipped to whitecaps by the wind. It reminded me of ocean swells - I thought as I swam along - except the frequency of the waves was much faster than anything I've experienced in the ocean. It was a fight to get out - fight to find a position, and more often than not I was kicked or bumped by other athletes.
I tried to remain calm - reminding myself that NO ONE was out to get me - that I should just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swim-ing, swim-img, swming swiming swiming! What do we do? We swim, swim, swim.
I could feel myself smile, in spite of myself. But then things got serious again a few minutes later. Seemingly, everyone else ahead of me had sprinted at the beginning and were all now slowing down - there was nothing I could do to pass. I tried to go through on the left, then the right, and then back on the left. But there were just no gaps.
I could feel myself getting frustrated, and for the first time I thought about dropping out. But where? There are no kayaks nearby, and if I stop, I'll get swum over by the bozos behind me. Just keep swimming...
Instead, I calmed myself down. Welcome to Ironman, I told myself. This is what the swim is like - it is tough, wavy, and there are lots of people who make contact with you. Just think of masters without the lane lines. And just keep going. Okay - you're doing great! Now, be aware that around the big red turn buoy, it will get a bit fierce - and that's okay. You're doing great - just hang in there! Okay - more wavy...make it to the next turn buoy and things will get better! Just keep swimming!
Rounding the second turn buoy and heading back into shore, I got my first bit of clear water. I was able to swim pretty well, find a bit of space and bridge up to the next larger group ahead. I did my best to pass as many people as possible - and my stroke felt a lot more fluid going back towards shore with the tailwind than going out against the waves. I had calmed down and kept it as easy, but strong as possible.
Hitting the sand, I quickly exited, ran past the timing mat without seeing the clock, and plunged back into the lake for a second loop.
More of the same during my second time around - lots of contact, but this time it was more frenzied than the first loop. Oh well - I figured that I had already done it once, and I could survive it again. Just be wary of the turn buoys, and expect a lot more contact around them - I reminded myself.
I quickly realized that as long as I focused on the task at hand (swimming!) and not the adventure, miles, and work that lay ahead - things and life got easier. My mentality was a lot more upbeat and even in spite of all the contact, kicks, waves, and wind - I was happy.
I'm doing an Ironman!
I didn't see my time as I exited the water, but I was just happy to be OUT. I didn't see as many white caps (women) around me as red (men) - but I knew there were still plenty ahead and much more work to do.
Pulling my arms out of my wetsuit I ran to the wetsuit strippers, taking special care to look for Sister Madonna Buder. Didn't see her and I figured it was just as well. Instead I aimed for the biggest guys and threw myself on the ground. PULL! they yelled - and faster than its ever been stripped off before, my wetsuit was off. Thankfully, my not-so-secret nightmare of having my bike shorts ripped off WITH said wetsuit did NOT happen. Yea! Horray for the small victories! One of my wetsuit strippers hauled me up and yelled GO!
TRANSITION ONE (4:44):
I ran down rows upon rows of bags, located my BLUE BIKE bag, grabbed it by the strings and headed into the dark, woman's changing tent. In the future – as dopey as it may look – I’m going to add colored string or a balloon or SOMETHING to the ends of my bag so I can easily spot it among the thousands of others. I didn’t like having to rifle past one bag after another, but I reminded myself that no one looses a race because they can’t locate their gear bag. In the tent, it took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust, but I quickly found a seat and dumped my gear out. A volunteer quickly settled down by my side and helped me sort through my stuff.
Calmly, I munched on a gel and told her what I wanted. "Helmet...socks...shoes...those gels and salt tabs...gloves...no arm warmers....race bet....oh yeah....sunglasses...is there anything else....? NO - okay let's go!"
I tossed my empty gel wrapper in the bag and thanked my volunteer profusely. I wished her good luck and I hoped that she would get a chance to see her friend later on. I shoved a few gels under my shorts, popped my salt container down my sports bra (plenty of room!), and carried out my shoes. I didn't want to run with my bike cleats through the soft and wet grass, and I knew I could have a faster transition if I threw them on once I hit the concrete path out of T1.
"Number 2059!" I yelled as I exited the tent. One of the many wonderful volunteers pointed me towards my bike. One, two, three, four rows down and towards the end. I saw the pink seat first before I saw anything else....Without further thought, I grabbed the bike, threw on my shoes, and sprinted past the rows of other bikes. I was happy to see LOTS of bikes on the racks around me...but also knew that it would be a long day ahead.
I saw 1:11 and something as I sprinted under the BIKE OUT banner and felt myself get momentarily upset. I had hoped to be out in under 1:10, hopefully 1:05 - but it was what it was. I had survived the swim, made sure that I had everything I needed for the bike, and was going to have a SMART, steady, strong, and solid race.
Somewhere in the distance I heard my name get called and I think I raised my hand to wave - but I had no idea who it was. I hopped on my bike and pedaled out of transition...
Well. I've got exactly 10:49:2? to get this race report out. But I think my Bainbridge Island friends (and family) will go nuts if I commandeer the computer for that long. So - lucky for YOU!
Here we go....
Is ignorance really bliss?
It’s a question I pondered in the weeks leading up to Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Would I rather go into the race knowing or not knowing...? I knew there would be highs and lows...I had mentally prepared myself to the best of my ability. And furthermore, I trusted Jen's plan. Completely. I felt ready, was extremely well tapered, and was chomping at the bit to GO!
I knew the energy build-up was reaching a boiling point when 48 hours before race start, I contemplated "sprinting" down the hall towards breakfast. Nope the hunger wasn't that bad and yes, I had to keep myself from running. Save it for Sunday....I kept reminding myself.
But the night before the race and race morning I felt overwhelmed. Physically I KNEW I had trained and was ready. It was just overcoming the mental hurdle...of making peace with the fact that I was about to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, and run 26.2. I felt silly for even thinking I could go the distance, and tried to convince Nathaniel to drive me back to the hotel on race morning. I figured that I would skip the race, hide under the covers, and drown myself in a sorrow-induced IHOP breakfast.
Instead, I woke up at 3:50, a full ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Without turning on any lights in the main hotel room, I gathered my pre-race breakfast of oatmeal with greek yogurt and dried fruit, baby food bananas, and headed towards the breakfast room at the hotel. Somehow, I met up with Tasha and Deirdre, and we all ate breakfast together – mostly in silence. Tasha looked about as cheery as I felt, and it was all I could do to force my oatmeal down.
It just didn’t taste right. I had incorrectly guessed the water to oatmeal measurement, and the stuff I was eating resembled paste. In addition, I had forgotten to add my dried fruit to said oatmeal BEFORE it got micro waved – so I hastily tossed in a handful after the fact (ROOKIE MISTAKE – I SHOULD HAVE NEVER TOSSED IN THE UNCOOKED DRIED FRUIT. IT CAME BACK TO HAUNT ME DURING MY RACE. STUPID MISTAKE #1. I’m embarrassed to admit it – but figure that if I can prevent anyone else from doing something dumb and different before their first Ironman, well, than what I did won’t be in vain. Besides, my story has a happy ending!)
Deirdre convinced me to eat all of my breakfast and deep down I knew she was right. It just tasted awful and my stomach was just full of knots.
Eventually I made my way back to the room, where to my delight – Mom, Dad, and Nathaniel were all awake and awaiting my return. I hastily threw on my race gear, said a few farewells to the parents, and Nathaniel and I headed out the door in the early morning light. The sun had already risen and the sky looked beautiful. It promised to be a gorgeous day (there – I jinxed it!)
But once in the car on the way to the race site, things went from your-typical-race-morning-jitters to horrible doubts and tears. The enormity of what I was about to attempt, the fears, the emotions – once again overwhelmed me and it was all I could do to keep myself IN the moving vehicle. Dashing out at the next stop sign seemed pretty darned tempting. I could run away and forget everything – start afresh in Alaska!
Actually – IHOP would do just fine.
The Healthy breakfast of blueberry pancakes and banannas and egg product (cholesterol free!) combined with sausage, hash browns, and bacon. We can't all be good all the time...right?
But Nathaniel managed to calm me down. He was perfect, and his thoughtful questions about why I loved the sport helped to sort me out. And THEN he suggested that I call Jen. “If you’re really feeling this bad and that you don’t want to race, I guarantee she’ll know what to tell you.”
I shrugged his suggestion off, knowing that at this point there was nothing anyone could actually DO for me, except to make me feel better. In all reality, I was terrified of the race, afraid of the swim, fearful of blowing up on the bike….For now, I would be just HAPPY to make it to the run. And then there was that marathon thing….
Somehow, after another teary exchange in the car, Nathaniel and I walked down towards transition and before too long I had deposited some last minute products in my gear bags (hello Mother Nature! Thank god for tampons and midol. Too much information, I know...but imagine how ticked off I was! Sheesh - you think you do all you can to control your body and its cycle and then WHAM! Something hits out of left field. Brilliant. But hey - a little fluid retention would be good...right?), and then added my water bottles to my bike. After borrowing a pump and getting my tires topped off - I realized there was not much of anything else I could do.
There were a few other girls from my age group in transition - we all looked pretty much the same, except for one stupidly happy one. She was bouncing all over the place, excited and ready to go – I felt like I wanted to punch her. How could she be so happy, while I felt as though I was being lead to my execution. She looked at me and commented, "Oh my gosh - you really ARE nervous! What's there to be nervous about??? You swim...you bike and if you get a flat tire, you fix it... and...."
Before she finished, I had walked away. I know it was rude, but I didn't even feel bad - besides, she had muttered the "f" word.
Flat.
Thank you! If I wasn't nervous enough, now there was something else to consider. Brilliant. Perky b----.
After standing in the port-o-potty line and doing my usual morning business (thank you! thank you thank you thank you!!!!), I found my old Pensacola training partner Ludi and...basically....stuck to her side.
Ludi, I, and her friend Paula walked around the race grounds, got away from the pre-race hubub and just talked. I have no recollection of what we spoke about - I was too nervous. Eventually we applied body glide (everywhere! THANK YOU Missy! Her advice of body gliding every inch of your body where there is or may be a seam was WONDERFUL! I only had one small bit of chafing and it wasn't even bad!), chamois cream, and Vaseline to the back of my neck (in addition to the body glide...but hey - NO wetsuit bite! YEA!), and pulled on the wetsuits. I added a double cap - silicone under my race cap...the water wasn't too cold - mid 60s at last I heard - but I wanted to make sure my head stayed warm.
The air temperature was hovering in the mid to upper 50s and the wind was really picking up. Holding hands, Ludi and I made our way through the transition zone that had become a zoo of spectators, bid farewell to Paula, and made our way down towards the water. It was jam packed with spectators sitting on the rock wall, and other racers – looking as grim as I felt – heading towards the one opening that lead to the sandy beach.
It was a good 5 or 10 minute walk/shuffle until we were finally lined up on the sand. "Just hold my hand," Ludi whispered.
I was grateful. My teeth were chattering, but it wasn't from the cold. It was nerves. The water looked wavy and choppy, and I could see a few packs of various pro triathletes - who had started 35 minutes before our official start - making their way bravely against the chop. It looked rough and I pitied the small group towards the back who would surely not make it out before the masses of age groupers had their start (as it was - they didn't).
I told Ludi I was going to get in and get acclimated to the water, and she mentioned that she would look for me and watch for me when I was done. There was NO WAY that I wanted to lose contact with her before the race start - but I did want to get wet and get a feel for the water before the start. Looking back - I'm glad that I did. It felt a little cool at first, but after a few strokes I found a good groove. Very quickly a kayak approached me and told me I could only swim paralell to shore - so I turned back in. Not wanting to lose Ludi in the mess of triathletes, I returned to my starting point and climbed out.
Ludi and I quickly found each other and held hands.... We lined up towards the left side - right along the inside of the buoy line....and waited. We could hear the race announcer counting down three minutes, two minutes, and then one minute... I adjusted my goggles one last time, thanked Ludi and told her that I loved her and waited for the cannon fire. The crowd pressed in, and even though we were two or three rows back from the front, I felt myself being pushed from behind towards the water's edge.
Even though I was surrounded by thousands of triathletes and even more spectators - I had never felt so alone.
And then - BOOM!
The cannon fired and Ludi and I plunged into the water - holding hands until the very last moment.
THE SWIM (1:07):
Looking back, I know that I didn't go out hard enough. Conservative was the name of my game for my first Ironman - but in the future, I'll be sure to go out a bit harder. The water was choppy and extremely wavy - whipped to whitecaps by the wind. It reminded me of ocean swells - I thought as I swam along - except the frequency of the waves was much faster than anything I've experienced in the ocean. It was a fight to get out - fight to find a position, and more often than not I was kicked or bumped by other athletes.
I tried to remain calm - reminding myself that NO ONE was out to get me - that I should just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swim-ing, swim-img, swming swiming swiming! What do we do? We swim, swim, swim.
I could feel myself smile, in spite of myself. But then things got serious again a few minutes later. Seemingly, everyone else ahead of me had sprinted at the beginning and were all now slowing down - there was nothing I could do to pass. I tried to go through on the left, then the right, and then back on the left. But there were just no gaps.
I could feel myself getting frustrated, and for the first time I thought about dropping out. But where? There are no kayaks nearby, and if I stop, I'll get swum over by the bozos behind me. Just keep swimming...
Instead, I calmed myself down. Welcome to Ironman, I told myself. This is what the swim is like - it is tough, wavy, and there are lots of people who make contact with you. Just think of masters without the lane lines. And just keep going. Okay - you're doing great! Now, be aware that around the big red turn buoy, it will get a bit fierce - and that's okay. You're doing great - just hang in there! Okay - more wavy...make it to the next turn buoy and things will get better! Just keep swimming!
Rounding the second turn buoy and heading back into shore, I got my first bit of clear water. I was able to swim pretty well, find a bit of space and bridge up to the next larger group ahead. I did my best to pass as many people as possible - and my stroke felt a lot more fluid going back towards shore with the tailwind than going out against the waves. I had calmed down and kept it as easy, but strong as possible.
Hitting the sand, I quickly exited, ran past the timing mat without seeing the clock, and plunged back into the lake for a second loop.
More of the same during my second time around - lots of contact, but this time it was more frenzied than the first loop. Oh well - I figured that I had already done it once, and I could survive it again. Just be wary of the turn buoys, and expect a lot more contact around them - I reminded myself.
I quickly realized that as long as I focused on the task at hand (swimming!) and not the adventure, miles, and work that lay ahead - things and life got easier. My mentality was a lot more upbeat and even in spite of all the contact, kicks, waves, and wind - I was happy.
I'm doing an Ironman!
I didn't see my time as I exited the water, but I was just happy to be OUT. I didn't see as many white caps (women) around me as red (men) - but I knew there were still plenty ahead and much more work to do.
Pulling my arms out of my wetsuit I ran to the wetsuit strippers, taking special care to look for Sister Madonna Buder. Didn't see her and I figured it was just as well. Instead I aimed for the biggest guys and threw myself on the ground. PULL! they yelled - and faster than its ever been stripped off before, my wetsuit was off. Thankfully, my not-so-secret nightmare of having my bike shorts ripped off WITH said wetsuit did NOT happen. Yea! Horray for the small victories! One of my wetsuit strippers hauled me up and yelled GO!
TRANSITION ONE (4:44):
I ran down rows upon rows of bags, located my BLUE BIKE bag, grabbed it by the strings and headed into the dark, woman's changing tent. In the future – as dopey as it may look – I’m going to add colored string or a balloon or SOMETHING to the ends of my bag so I can easily spot it among the thousands of others. I didn’t like having to rifle past one bag after another, but I reminded myself that no one looses a race because they can’t locate their gear bag. In the tent, it took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust, but I quickly found a seat and dumped my gear out. A volunteer quickly settled down by my side and helped me sort through my stuff.
Calmly, I munched on a gel and told her what I wanted. "Helmet...socks...shoes...those gels and salt tabs...gloves...no arm warmers....race bet....oh yeah....sunglasses...is there anything else....? NO - okay let's go!"
I tossed my empty gel wrapper in the bag and thanked my volunteer profusely. I wished her good luck and I hoped that she would get a chance to see her friend later on. I shoved a few gels under my shorts, popped my salt container down my sports bra (plenty of room!), and carried out my shoes. I didn't want to run with my bike cleats through the soft and wet grass, and I knew I could have a faster transition if I threw them on once I hit the concrete path out of T1.
"Number 2059!" I yelled as I exited the tent. One of the many wonderful volunteers pointed me towards my bike. One, two, three, four rows down and towards the end. I saw the pink seat first before I saw anything else....Without further thought, I grabbed the bike, threw on my shoes, and sprinted past the rows of other bikes. I was happy to see LOTS of bikes on the racks around me...but also knew that it would be a long day ahead.
I saw 1:11 and something as I sprinted under the BIKE OUT banner and felt myself get momentarily upset. I had hoped to be out in under 1:10, hopefully 1:05 - but it was what it was. I had survived the swim, made sure that I had everything I needed for the bike, and was going to have a SMART, steady, strong, and solid race.
Somewhere in the distance I heard my name get called and I think I raised my hand to wave - but I had no idea who it was. I hopped on my bike and pedaled out of transition...
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Hooray for Home!
Here at last - WE ARRIVED!
One: only one piece of luggage was lost. My second, and smaller checked bag. Better AFTER the race/trip/cruise/vacation than before, right? Besides, it is SUPPOSED to arrive sometime between 7 pm and 7 am. Loveley. Thank you Delta (sarcasm - can you detect it?)
Oops, still haven't figured out how to upload pictures from the NEW camera onto the computer. Oh well - something tells me the 600+ pictures we took will be worth the wait. Ball gown, uniform, and all.
Rays of sun. FINALLY! We have sunshine in Southern California. Yea! Great timing!
Anabelle AND Tabbitha - so excited to see them. Nathaniel found the pair of them. Tabbitha had pressed her hamhocks firmly into the second sink in the master bath, and Anabelle was hiding under the couch. Even he seemed a little misty eyed at seeing the two monsters.
Yes, I have finally picked up my bike and gear bag from Nytro. A MAJOR THANKS to the Encinitas bike shop for keeping them safe and sound. Although I don't think they were too happy with the extra-long stay that my bike had....the guys there were super nice and understanding when I explained the cruise and being way out of communication range.
Food! REAL FOOD! The first thing I had in San Diego was a Blackberry Protein Jamba Juice "thingy". It was delicious. And nutritious. Now, if ONLY people on cruise lines would consider adding a Jamba Juice......
Oatmeal. I get to have it tomorrow morning. The way I like it - with Greek Yogurt and brown sugar. Add my Fat Free French Vanilla coffee creamer to EXTRA STRONG coffee, and I'm one happy camper. Aaaahhhhhh......
Raring to go. Seriously - I want to start training again. The first email I sent was to Jen, explaining exactly that. Let's get this thing started...time to get moving! AND I CAN'T WAIT!
Holy cow, I ate a lot of peanut butter cups on my trip. Um....one large one in every port of call (4 total). But....add in the one in Seattle....and then the one that Nathaniel NEVER ATE from Ketchikan (which I will devour tonight while flipping between Le Tour, Southpark, and Deadliest Catch)...we're talking about 6 giant peanut butter cups. Yeah - another reason why I need to start training again.
Only 96 days to Kona. Thank you Mary Eggers for the email a few days ago. It made me smile. :)
Mom, Dad, Karyna - my family! I miss you guys already... thank you for a great trip, your wonderful support...can't wait to see you again. And to Chris and Charlie (our hosts in Bainbridge Island)...love to you both. I have never seen a carrot-eating-dog...but Charlie - well...you officially turned me into a dog person.
ENERGY! I've got it!!! In spite of my 4 am wake-up call and early morning flights. JEN: Let's get this thing started! Okay? Please?!? With a peanut M&M on the top? Okay - forget the candy. Let's just go. And I'm ready. :)
! And last (but not least) - thanks again to everyone for the wonderful support, kind words, awesome messages - everything. I've missed reading blogs and being on FB - so I'm looking forward to catching up in the next few days! YEE-HAW!
One: only one piece of luggage was lost. My second, and smaller checked bag. Better AFTER the race/trip/cruise/vacation than before, right? Besides, it is SUPPOSED to arrive sometime between 7 pm and 7 am. Loveley. Thank you Delta (sarcasm - can you detect it?)
Oops, still haven't figured out how to upload pictures from the NEW camera onto the computer. Oh well - something tells me the 600+ pictures we took will be worth the wait. Ball gown, uniform, and all.
Rays of sun. FINALLY! We have sunshine in Southern California. Yea! Great timing!
Anabelle AND Tabbitha - so excited to see them. Nathaniel found the pair of them. Tabbitha had pressed her hamhocks firmly into the second sink in the master bath, and Anabelle was hiding under the couch. Even he seemed a little misty eyed at seeing the two monsters.
Yes, I have finally picked up my bike and gear bag from Nytro. A MAJOR THANKS to the Encinitas bike shop for keeping them safe and sound. Although I don't think they were too happy with the extra-long stay that my bike had....the guys there were super nice and understanding when I explained the cruise and being way out of communication range.
Food! REAL FOOD! The first thing I had in San Diego was a Blackberry Protein Jamba Juice "thingy". It was delicious. And nutritious. Now, if ONLY people on cruise lines would consider adding a Jamba Juice......
Oatmeal. I get to have it tomorrow morning. The way I like it - with Greek Yogurt and brown sugar. Add my Fat Free French Vanilla coffee creamer to EXTRA STRONG coffee, and I'm one happy camper. Aaaahhhhhh......
Raring to go. Seriously - I want to start training again. The first email I sent was to Jen, explaining exactly that. Let's get this thing started...time to get moving! AND I CAN'T WAIT!
Holy cow, I ate a lot of peanut butter cups on my trip. Um....one large one in every port of call (4 total). But....add in the one in Seattle....and then the one that Nathaniel NEVER ATE from Ketchikan (which I will devour tonight while flipping between Le Tour, Southpark, and Deadliest Catch)...we're talking about 6 giant peanut butter cups. Yeah - another reason why I need to start training again.
Only 96 days to Kona. Thank you Mary Eggers for the email a few days ago. It made me smile. :)
Mom, Dad, Karyna - my family! I miss you guys already... thank you for a great trip, your wonderful support...can't wait to see you again. And to Chris and Charlie (our hosts in Bainbridge Island)...love to you both. I have never seen a carrot-eating-dog...but Charlie - well...you officially turned me into a dog person.
ENERGY! I've got it!!! In spite of my 4 am wake-up call and early morning flights. JEN: Let's get this thing started! Okay? Please?!? With a peanut M&M on the top? Okay - forget the candy. Let's just go. And I'm ready. :)
! And last (but not least) - thanks again to everyone for the wonderful support, kind words, awesome messages - everything. I've missed reading blogs and being on FB - so I'm looking forward to catching up in the next few days! YEE-HAW!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I AM alive! (and survived - mostly)
Holy Cow!
I'm back - well, almost. My current locale is back on Bainbridge Island, Washington - but (hopefully) within 48 hours, I'll be home for good in California.
The past two weeks since Coeur d'Alene have really flown by - with the recovery week in Seattle/Bainbridge and then the Alaskan cruise... well....it's been a bit much. And I really don't feel like myself at all - out of sorts, is the best way to put it. But to keep things simple and convenient, I'll supply a handy list of things I learned.
And before I forget... my race report is mostly written. I just need to tweak it here and there, and then find time to upload it from my computer. Yes, I'm willing to go all out and spend oodles of money on all-things-tri-related, BUT, paying the astronomical internet fee on the cruise ship...well....that's another story.
Sit back and enjoy!
Things I've learned (brief list!):
-I'm not a cruise person. Post to follow later. Next time Nathaniel and I visit Alaska, we'll do it with a back pack on our backs, good hiking boots, and bush plane ticket in hand. Yeah.
- Massive vats of oatmeal are just gross. And wrong. I miss my steel cut oats and good old fashioned Quaker Oatmeal. So does my GI tract.
- I would rather hike up the mountain than take a tram. So we did (me + Nathaniel). However, the beer sampler, Alaskan beers on tap, and dinner at the top of Mount Robers in Juneau were wonderful. And we gladly took the tram down to the base.
- A man in uniform will attract lots of attention, especially from women in their 40s, 50s, and 60. After wandering the 7th floor deck of the ship in search of my lost mother, I came upon a photo frenzy involving my husband. Yes, Nathaniel was wearing his dress blues and did indeed look dashingly handsome. And apparently, every other woman on the cruise ship thought so too. I caught him, slightly dazed, posing for random pictures with very inebriated people. Yeah.
-My sister is in love. I'm totally serious. And every time she spoke with her boyfriend, she either called him "Baby" or "Honey". If you were to substitute a 'ding' for every time you heard the Baby or Honey word, the conversation would be extremely difficult to follow.
-There are 113 stairs from the 5th level of the cruise ship to the 14th level. I know - I counted. Several times.
-I enjoy beer samplers. Not LOTS of beer. But just a sampler - I like to experience them all. The Alaskan Brewing Company was my favorite.
- Usually (and please don't take offense), the more obese or larger crowd sat closer to the buffet, while the more-normal and non-hefty folks sat further away. Hhhhmmmmmmm.........
-I am tired of being offered jewelry from Eastern European women who worked on the ship. Yes, they may be attractive and have cute accents, but I'm not falling for it. And no, my fingers don't look good with opal on them. No matter how many times you try to tell me and my husband.
-Kayaking is fun. I enjoy being on the water and doing all-things-sporty. BUT. But. But since being an uber-compeditive rower who was very sensitive about taking the straightest line possible, being in ANY sort of water craft that doesn't take the straightest route is not fun. I'm working on it...and luckily Nathaniel was a good sport.
-If the just-baked-chocolate-chip cookies are set out, herds of people devour a stack of 50 in less than 60 seconds. You need to watch, wait, and pounce and JUST the right time. Not that I did any of this, of course.... Okay - you got me. Nathaniel and I waited one time for said cookies. And they were delicious. And then we took the stairs.
-I love Alaska. But I think I saw it the wrong way. While wandering the streets of Ketchikan after hiking up Deer Mountain, I inquired about some pottery. The store owner asked if I was visiting on a crusie, and I found myself apologetically answering, "yes! But I'm here with my parents...."
- We all know I love peanut butter and chocolate. Give me a peanut butter cup and I'm happy. Make me walk all over town to find the biggest and the best, and GAME ON. And I've got the photographic evidence to prove it.
-I get sea sick in seas over 10+ feet. Thank god I don't drink that much - it would have been ugly. Really ugly.
-It took me about 9 days until I decided I was happy that I'm signed up for IM Hawaii and IM St. George. I've got the itch to get training and get back to my life. And I'm really happy with what I do!
-Physical activity is important for me - so as long as I'm active or doing something, I'm happy. Hence the 113 steps between the 5th and 14th level. After 3 days at sea, I was a little stir crazy.....
-Swimsuit tan lines and ball gowns = ugly combination.
-But put a Man in Uniform next to you, and no one notices. Again - more photographic evidence.
-I love spending time with my family, but its always good to have a break now and again (hence climbing Mt. Roberts instead of taking the tram. The things we do.....)
And yes - the list could go on and on (and on). But it won't.
I'm just happy to be back to the continental US, with only one more leg of the journey to complete until I get home. Fingers crossed, in 48 hours I'll be playing with the House Monster and Mini Monster, sitting in my own bed, eating a bowl of oatmeal and greek yogurt, with Nathaniel reading at my side, a book open on my lap, and Le Tour on in the back ground. Aaaahhhhh yes, I can already hear Phil and Paul's voices in the background.
Where do I sign up?
I'm back - well, almost. My current locale is back on Bainbridge Island, Washington - but (hopefully) within 48 hours, I'll be home for good in California.
The past two weeks since Coeur d'Alene have really flown by - with the recovery week in Seattle/Bainbridge and then the Alaskan cruise... well....it's been a bit much. And I really don't feel like myself at all - out of sorts, is the best way to put it. But to keep things simple and convenient, I'll supply a handy list of things I learned.
And before I forget... my race report is mostly written. I just need to tweak it here and there, and then find time to upload it from my computer. Yes, I'm willing to go all out and spend oodles of money on all-things-tri-related, BUT, paying the astronomical internet fee on the cruise ship...well....that's another story.
Sit back and enjoy!
Things I've learned (brief list!):
-I'm not a cruise person. Post to follow later. Next time Nathaniel and I visit Alaska, we'll do it with a back pack on our backs, good hiking boots, and bush plane ticket in hand. Yeah.
- Massive vats of oatmeal are just gross. And wrong. I miss my steel cut oats and good old fashioned Quaker Oatmeal. So does my GI tract.
- I would rather hike up the mountain than take a tram. So we did (me + Nathaniel). However, the beer sampler, Alaskan beers on tap, and dinner at the top of Mount Robers in Juneau were wonderful. And we gladly took the tram down to the base.
- A man in uniform will attract lots of attention, especially from women in their 40s, 50s, and 60. After wandering the 7th floor deck of the ship in search of my lost mother, I came upon a photo frenzy involving my husband. Yes, Nathaniel was wearing his dress blues and did indeed look dashingly handsome. And apparently, every other woman on the cruise ship thought so too. I caught him, slightly dazed, posing for random pictures with very inebriated people. Yeah.
-My sister is in love. I'm totally serious. And every time she spoke with her boyfriend, she either called him "Baby" or "Honey". If you were to substitute a 'ding' for every time you heard the Baby or Honey word, the conversation would be extremely difficult to follow.
-There are 113 stairs from the 5th level of the cruise ship to the 14th level. I know - I counted. Several times.
-I enjoy beer samplers. Not LOTS of beer. But just a sampler - I like to experience them all. The Alaskan Brewing Company was my favorite.
- Usually (and please don't take offense), the more obese or larger crowd sat closer to the buffet, while the more-normal and non-hefty folks sat further away. Hhhhmmmmmmm.........
-I am tired of being offered jewelry from Eastern European women who worked on the ship. Yes, they may be attractive and have cute accents, but I'm not falling for it. And no, my fingers don't look good with opal on them. No matter how many times you try to tell me and my husband.
-Kayaking is fun. I enjoy being on the water and doing all-things-sporty. BUT. But. But since being an uber-compeditive rower who was very sensitive about taking the straightest line possible, being in ANY sort of water craft that doesn't take the straightest route is not fun. I'm working on it...and luckily Nathaniel was a good sport.
-If the just-baked-chocolate-chip cookies are set out, herds of people devour a stack of 50 in less than 60 seconds. You need to watch, wait, and pounce and JUST the right time. Not that I did any of this, of course.... Okay - you got me. Nathaniel and I waited one time for said cookies. And they were delicious. And then we took the stairs.
-I love Alaska. But I think I saw it the wrong way. While wandering the streets of Ketchikan after hiking up Deer Mountain, I inquired about some pottery. The store owner asked if I was visiting on a crusie, and I found myself apologetically answering, "yes! But I'm here with my parents...."
- We all know I love peanut butter and chocolate. Give me a peanut butter cup and I'm happy. Make me walk all over town to find the biggest and the best, and GAME ON. And I've got the photographic evidence to prove it.
-I get sea sick in seas over 10+ feet. Thank god I don't drink that much - it would have been ugly. Really ugly.
-It took me about 9 days until I decided I was happy that I'm signed up for IM Hawaii and IM St. George. I've got the itch to get training and get back to my life. And I'm really happy with what I do!
-Physical activity is important for me - so as long as I'm active or doing something, I'm happy. Hence the 113 steps between the 5th and 14th level. After 3 days at sea, I was a little stir crazy.....
-Swimsuit tan lines and ball gowns = ugly combination.
-But put a Man in Uniform next to you, and no one notices. Again - more photographic evidence.
-I love spending time with my family, but its always good to have a break now and again (hence climbing Mt. Roberts instead of taking the tram. The things we do.....)
And yes - the list could go on and on (and on). But it won't.
I'm just happy to be back to the continental US, with only one more leg of the journey to complete until I get home. Fingers crossed, in 48 hours I'll be playing with the House Monster and Mini Monster, sitting in my own bed, eating a bowl of oatmeal and greek yogurt, with Nathaniel reading at my side, a book open on my lap, and Le Tour on in the back ground. Aaaahhhhh yes, I can already hear Phil and Paul's voices in the background.
Where do I sign up?
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