I just read back over my entry from last year and had to smile. It's funny how spot on I was in many ways, anticipating what this past year would hold. I did finish grad school, become licensed and board certified as a family nurse practitioner, and accept my first NP job. In other ways, though, I had no idea what life would hold. I also started a new relationship and moved to LA for my new job, all during peak training time for IMAZ. I wouldn't recommend anyone subject themselves to this combo if given the choice.
Going into race weekend, I knew that I had put in the bare minimum for training. Even though I'd been swimming more than ever before, and feeling more confident in my ability, it is still my weakest of the three disciplines. I'd put in a fair amount of riding, but only a few really long rides, and none without several breaks. And I'd done only a few runs longer than 10 miles, so even though running is my strength, I was feeling grossly unprepared to run a marathon at the end of such a long day.
The week leading up to race day I simply wanted to it to be over- not to blow past the experience, but to reclaim some of my life back. I was excited to test my physical ability in a way I'd never before. At the same time, I was terrified. I guess, if I was honest, I thought that I had it in me to finish, but I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I'd put in my best effort and that would have to be enough.
Several of my friends and my boyfriend traveled to support me- we all stayed in a house together. It was relatively chill in the 2 days leading up to the race. I started feeling a bit sick on Friday and by Saturday definitely had a full-on cold. Great, just what you want before a major race. At the same time, I wasn't not going to do the race. So I tried to go to bed really early the night before and hope for a decent energy level the morning of.
The morning of I woke up feeling sick still, but knew that adrenaline would carry me. I felt calm as I mingled around with the other athletes in transition. I ran into Meredith Kessler, one of my friends who was racing- it was nice to see a familiar face amongst the crowd. My sherpa crew met me at the transition fence and we chatted for a bit before I said goodbye and joined the thousands of athletes lined up to get in the water.
The swim is a mass start- you get in the water about 300m from where the start line is, making the 2.4 miles a bit longer. I didn't want to be near the front, both because I'm not a fast swimmer, but also because I didn't want to have to tread water for very long. However, somehow I managed to swim to near the front because when the cannon went off and we started swimming, I was definitely in the thick of it. My plan was to keep calm and just keep swimming. I can't say that I was always calm- my aggressive nature was apparent as fellow athletes kicked, knocked, and tried to swim over me. I wish I could say that I was nice and got out of their way, but instead I pushed back. To my surprise, there was never a time in which I felt overwhelmed by the distance. When I reached the halfway point, I was still feeling solid. So much so that I think I got a little caught up in the ease of it and stopped sighting as often. A few minutes later I found myself swimming almost perpendicular to the swim course- oops! I had to laugh. Note to self- do not get too confident at any point in today's race. The rest of the swim was mostly the same- fighting my way through the now only-moderately crowded water as relaxed as I could. When I got out of the water and looked at my watch, my time was as I'd predicted. That felt good, and I was so happy to have finished the swim! Now the race had really begun for me. I ran along the path to transition, wondering if I'd see any familiar faces in the crowd. It was nice to see Robert Pennington as I ran along.
I took what felt like a long time in transition, getting ready for the bike, but I guess it wasn't really that long. I felt ready to go and my spirits were high- I really do enjoy riding my bike. The bike course is 3 loops, each about 37 miles. Arizona is considered a flat course, but it's a false flat, as going out there is a slight incline and coming back, a decline. I'd heard that it could get windy, but figured I've dealt with wind in SF before. Little did I know what was to come. The first loop I felt pretty good, besides my consistently runny nose that I had to blow at least every 5 minutes. I tried to be sure no one was behind me, but sometimes it could not be helped. This continued the entire ride. I saw Alex, PJ, Galyn, and Tyler on the way out and the way in on each loop, which was really nice. Both Meredith Kessler and Laura Siddall said hi on the bike, and I saw Ryan Lastimosa from afar going the opposite way- it was nice to see friends on the course. They, of course, were all much farther ahead of me and I was amazed by their performances. By the end of the second loop, I'd seen 3 athletes taken off the course by ambulance and was starting to get worn down by the wind. I knew that I'd soon reach the point where I'd been riding continuously longer than ever before. I tried to be excited by the fact that I was starting my last loop, but I was already dreading the steady climb up the last incline with what seemed like even stronger winds now. Indeed, that last bit of climb before the turnaround on my last bike loop was one of the darkest times of the race for me. I so badly wanted to be finished with wind, snot, and an achy body. I wanted to find a bit more energy somewhere, too. By the time I was nearing transition, I didn't even acknowledge my friends cheering for me- I was so ready to be off my bike! I'd never experienced that before. It was pretty intense, my desire to be finished.
I didn't spend much time in transition- I think mostly because I figured the sooner I started running, the sooner I'd reach the finish. Since the bike had really taken it out of me, I expected that I'd start the run with legs that felt like jello and were slightly numb- this has happened in the past. I was actually surprised at how good my legs felt, and I was able to keep a decent pace at first. I saw the sherpa crew at the first aid station and they were very encouraging. I was encouraged that I felt so good and that they seemed to be impressed with how I was moving, and that I was seemingly in a better mood. I passed them again only a few miles later and still was moving pretty well. Then, somewhere around mile 5, my body began to ache. I realized how hungry I was for real food, not Shot Bloks and Bonk Breakers. I realized how fatigued I was. The good news is that my nose was no longer running. But my confidence was waning because, even though running is my strength, I was not feeling strong at all. By the time I reached mile 8 I felt I was in trouble. I wasn't doubting my ability to finish, but I was doubting my ability to continue running for the duration of the marathon. I was also acutely aware of the athletes who were passing me in the opposite direction, farther along than me in the race, who I wouldn't have expected to be. It's amazing how the ironman distance can level the playing field more so than other distances. Training well really does matter- you can't just show up and expect to push through on sheer athletic ability. This was a very humbling realization. I was truly in awe of the performances I was witnessing from my fellow athletes. I also enjoyed my random conversations with other athletes- I think there was more of that in this race than any other triathlon I've done. I suppose for those of us who are extroverts, the race is a long time to go without a substantive conversation.
By the half marathon mark, I'd had it so to speak. I wanted to fast forward to the finish. I was hurting in a way I'd never before in any other event I'd competed in. I told my friends as I passed them that I wasn't having fun. That was the last time I saw them before the finish. I'd been walking through each aid station, rationing water and Gu Chomps, and it was getting harder and harder to go back to running once on the other side. Around mile 23 there is a decent incline and I allowed myself to walk up it- never before have I walked in a marathon, but at this point I felt like it was mostly necessary. When I crested, I was mentally projecting my finishing time, wondering if I could break 13 hours. I had said I didn't have an expected finish time, but if I was honest with myself, I'd wanted to do it much faster. I was frustrated because the competitive part of me will want to do another one to redeem my time. I resolved to run through the final 2 aid stations. During the last 2 miles my desire to finish was so strong that I didn't care how tired or in pain I was- I would push through. And my high school days as a sprinter came out in the last 200m or so- I had to sprint with everything I had to cross the finish line. Man was I glad to cross! I was in significant pain when I stopped running. Abby was there to catch me which was so nice. It is such an honor to have had the privilege to have completed an ironman. I'm so thankful for the encouragement and support of my family and friends, as well as so many volunteers and supporters on the course that day. This distance truly tests what the mind, body, and spirit are capable of and I am grateful to say that I went the distance.
In case anyone is wondering, I have yet to sign up for another.
Going into race weekend, I knew that I had put in the bare minimum for training. Even though I'd been swimming more than ever before, and feeling more confident in my ability, it is still my weakest of the three disciplines. I'd put in a fair amount of riding, but only a few really long rides, and none without several breaks. And I'd done only a few runs longer than 10 miles, so even though running is my strength, I was feeling grossly unprepared to run a marathon at the end of such a long day.
The week leading up to race day I simply wanted to it to be over- not to blow past the experience, but to reclaim some of my life back. I was excited to test my physical ability in a way I'd never before. At the same time, I was terrified. I guess, if I was honest, I thought that I had it in me to finish, but I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I'd put in my best effort and that would have to be enough.
Several of my friends and my boyfriend traveled to support me- we all stayed in a house together. It was relatively chill in the 2 days leading up to the race. I started feeling a bit sick on Friday and by Saturday definitely had a full-on cold. Great, just what you want before a major race. At the same time, I wasn't not going to do the race. So I tried to go to bed really early the night before and hope for a decent energy level the morning of.
The morning of I woke up feeling sick still, but knew that adrenaline would carry me. I felt calm as I mingled around with the other athletes in transition. I ran into Meredith Kessler, one of my friends who was racing- it was nice to see a familiar face amongst the crowd. My sherpa crew met me at the transition fence and we chatted for a bit before I said goodbye and joined the thousands of athletes lined up to get in the water.
The swim is a mass start- you get in the water about 300m from where the start line is, making the 2.4 miles a bit longer. I didn't want to be near the front, both because I'm not a fast swimmer, but also because I didn't want to have to tread water for very long. However, somehow I managed to swim to near the front because when the cannon went off and we started swimming, I was definitely in the thick of it. My plan was to keep calm and just keep swimming. I can't say that I was always calm- my aggressive nature was apparent as fellow athletes kicked, knocked, and tried to swim over me. I wish I could say that I was nice and got out of their way, but instead I pushed back. To my surprise, there was never a time in which I felt overwhelmed by the distance. When I reached the halfway point, I was still feeling solid. So much so that I think I got a little caught up in the ease of it and stopped sighting as often. A few minutes later I found myself swimming almost perpendicular to the swim course- oops! I had to laugh. Note to self- do not get too confident at any point in today's race. The rest of the swim was mostly the same- fighting my way through the now only-moderately crowded water as relaxed as I could. When I got out of the water and looked at my watch, my time was as I'd predicted. That felt good, and I was so happy to have finished the swim! Now the race had really begun for me. I ran along the path to transition, wondering if I'd see any familiar faces in the crowd. It was nice to see Robert Pennington as I ran along.
I took what felt like a long time in transition, getting ready for the bike, but I guess it wasn't really that long. I felt ready to go and my spirits were high- I really do enjoy riding my bike. The bike course is 3 loops, each about 37 miles. Arizona is considered a flat course, but it's a false flat, as going out there is a slight incline and coming back, a decline. I'd heard that it could get windy, but figured I've dealt with wind in SF before. Little did I know what was to come. The first loop I felt pretty good, besides my consistently runny nose that I had to blow at least every 5 minutes. I tried to be sure no one was behind me, but sometimes it could not be helped. This continued the entire ride. I saw Alex, PJ, Galyn, and Tyler on the way out and the way in on each loop, which was really nice. Both Meredith Kessler and Laura Siddall said hi on the bike, and I saw Ryan Lastimosa from afar going the opposite way- it was nice to see friends on the course. They, of course, were all much farther ahead of me and I was amazed by their performances. By the end of the second loop, I'd seen 3 athletes taken off the course by ambulance and was starting to get worn down by the wind. I knew that I'd soon reach the point where I'd been riding continuously longer than ever before. I tried to be excited by the fact that I was starting my last loop, but I was already dreading the steady climb up the last incline with what seemed like even stronger winds now. Indeed, that last bit of climb before the turnaround on my last bike loop was one of the darkest times of the race for me. I so badly wanted to be finished with wind, snot, and an achy body. I wanted to find a bit more energy somewhere, too. By the time I was nearing transition, I didn't even acknowledge my friends cheering for me- I was so ready to be off my bike! I'd never experienced that before. It was pretty intense, my desire to be finished.
I didn't spend much time in transition- I think mostly because I figured the sooner I started running, the sooner I'd reach the finish. Since the bike had really taken it out of me, I expected that I'd start the run with legs that felt like jello and were slightly numb- this has happened in the past. I was actually surprised at how good my legs felt, and I was able to keep a decent pace at first. I saw the sherpa crew at the first aid station and they were very encouraging. I was encouraged that I felt so good and that they seemed to be impressed with how I was moving, and that I was seemingly in a better mood. I passed them again only a few miles later and still was moving pretty well. Then, somewhere around mile 5, my body began to ache. I realized how hungry I was for real food, not Shot Bloks and Bonk Breakers. I realized how fatigued I was. The good news is that my nose was no longer running. But my confidence was waning because, even though running is my strength, I was not feeling strong at all. By the time I reached mile 8 I felt I was in trouble. I wasn't doubting my ability to finish, but I was doubting my ability to continue running for the duration of the marathon. I was also acutely aware of the athletes who were passing me in the opposite direction, farther along than me in the race, who I wouldn't have expected to be. It's amazing how the ironman distance can level the playing field more so than other distances. Training well really does matter- you can't just show up and expect to push through on sheer athletic ability. This was a very humbling realization. I was truly in awe of the performances I was witnessing from my fellow athletes. I also enjoyed my random conversations with other athletes- I think there was more of that in this race than any other triathlon I've done. I suppose for those of us who are extroverts, the race is a long time to go without a substantive conversation.
By the half marathon mark, I'd had it so to speak. I wanted to fast forward to the finish. I was hurting in a way I'd never before in any other event I'd competed in. I told my friends as I passed them that I wasn't having fun. That was the last time I saw them before the finish. I'd been walking through each aid station, rationing water and Gu Chomps, and it was getting harder and harder to go back to running once on the other side. Around mile 23 there is a decent incline and I allowed myself to walk up it- never before have I walked in a marathon, but at this point I felt like it was mostly necessary. When I crested, I was mentally projecting my finishing time, wondering if I could break 13 hours. I had said I didn't have an expected finish time, but if I was honest with myself, I'd wanted to do it much faster. I was frustrated because the competitive part of me will want to do another one to redeem my time. I resolved to run through the final 2 aid stations. During the last 2 miles my desire to finish was so strong that I didn't care how tired or in pain I was- I would push through. And my high school days as a sprinter came out in the last 200m or so- I had to sprint with everything I had to cross the finish line. Man was I glad to cross! I was in significant pain when I stopped running. Abby was there to catch me which was so nice. It is such an honor to have had the privilege to have completed an ironman. I'm so thankful for the encouragement and support of my family and friends, as well as so many volunteers and supporters on the course that day. This distance truly tests what the mind, body, and spirit are capable of and I am grateful to say that I went the distance.
In case anyone is wondering, I have yet to sign up for another.
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