VINEMAN 2010 RACE REPORT…FINALLY!

Ok, before I start, I need to relieve some of the Jewish/Italian Catholic guilt (what a combo I was born with) that is haunting me and get some apologies out of the way.  I am NOT dead.  I DID do Vineman Full Iron-distance triathlon on July 31, 2010 and it did NOT kill me.  And I DID finish.  I did NOT break all my fingers, though it would make sense considering this blog is 10 weeks in the making.  And then I DID disappear and left you all hanging.  Excuse me. I’m sorry.  But if it helps, my body sometimes still hurts like it happened yesterday .

If you can forgive me, I’d like to now recap that day and take you through the journey that we all worked so hard to get to, using some photo aids.  At the end of this entry, if you’re fan of reading the last page of a book before you get the plot, are my race times.

Pre-Race

The morning of the race was a blur.  I actually slept ok, thanks to a little pharmaceutical assistance.  Just 1/3 an ambien.  Certainly not a performance-enhancing drug by any stretch, but it ensured I got a solid 6.5 hours of sleep.   Pedro dropped me and P-dog at the race start and went to find parking, while the police barked at him to keep moving.  Considering he’d never been to a triathlon before, he performed remarkably well under pressure too. 

Here I am arriving with my bike, and hugging my friend Andie.

The crowds were gathered to watch their friends and families:

I hate this part of the race – getting into the wetsuit.  Do you know that in 7 months, I literally swam in open water twice – Wildflower Long course and then the day of the race?  There’s a reason for that, and it has nothing to do with sound training practices.  Basically, I’m not a big fan of zipping myself all sausage-filling-like into neoprene.  Thankfully, I was pretty confident this time (as opposed to prior to WF Long) that it would fit.  It did, but barely.  Considerable less side boob existed, but side-boob nonetheless.

So let’s play a game, shall we?  How many people does it take to zip AthenaJess into her wetsuit? 

One?  Me by myself?  Nope.

Two?  Getting closer. (thanks Christy-pants)

Three?  yup, it takes 3 people to get me snugged in there

Here is the startled look on my face when I realized I was all suited out and ready to go.

I had another startled look on face when i saw this picture on my camera and realized I was with child.  Just kidding. 

Me, my mama, and my dad.  Little do they know they are about to go through some endurance spectating themselves, which deserves its own post-race medal.  And they didn’t even train!  Oh, how I love them. 

Posed photo with the girls.  7 months in the making!

Candid photo.  Ok, not really.  But there was a moment before the race when things were VERY real.  And scary.  You suddenly realize you’re about to go out and not come back until nightfall, like going into battle. 

Now, typically before a race, like at Wildflower Long, you have HOURS to sit and obsess and poop.  Nerves run wild and I usually find myself a permanent fixture in the outhouse line.  This race was VERY different, because there isn’t a lot of loud music going, not a lot of time, and the announcer is pretty quiet. 

All of a sudden, after we were done with the line of paparazzi, we looked out and realized our orange-headed peeps were getting ready to take off!  So we ran into the water with barely a chance to say good-bye to our friends.  Very odd. 

And about 2 minutes later, HOOOOOOOOONK!  And Ironman had begun.

Going into this day, I had never swum 2.4 miles, had never biked 112 miles, and certainly had never run 26.2 miles.  And I was about to attempt all three in one day. 

Since based on my 6:45 a.m. wave start, I had 16:15 minutes to be an official finisher (by 11pm), my goal was Swim: 2 hours, Bike: 8 hours, Run: 6 hours.

Ready?  Let’s GOOOOOOOO!

The SWIM

I really wasn’t sure how the day would go and knew staying positive was key.  But here is the highlight from the swim: It was the one part of the day where I nearly quit.  Seriously, a 90+ minutes swim is loooong.  The course was 2 loops, marked off by buoys, like this:

And the buoys keep coming.  And coming.  And coming.  And at the far end of the buoys, there are points when the river was about 2 feet deep.  While it’s technically not allowed, I will admit there were a couple points of extreme when I did that thing where I pushed my legs along the bottom, and made the motion with my arms like I was actually swimming.  Kinda hilarious. 

A couple guys were so tall that they really had no choice but to stand and walk.

Here’s an example.  (No, that is NOT me walking).  I was too busy floating on my back, planning an exit off the side of the river to go live with the bears.  Anyway, one loop was plenty, but TWO was almost unbearable.  And you have to pass BY the swim exit once (a recurring theme in every leg).  I knew that the day would be mentally tough, I just didn’t anticipate it would happen so soon.  I was really struggling in that swim and berating myself for taking the swim so lightly in the last couple months.  My shoulder was having shooting pains, and it was hard to breathe.  Every color cap of the rainbow was swimming over me and one bear of a guy kicked me in the shoulder that was already hurting.  I grabbed his toe and squeezed for just a moment as punishment.  Hopefully he’ll learn from that toe-squeeze and be more aware in future races.

I just kept telling myself to just keep going, however slow, and let the cards fall as they may.  As it happened, I still did the swim in under 2 hours, well ahead of my goal to make 16 hours.    I had a lot of fantasies in that swim.  One recurring fantasy was of coming out of the swim, walking over to my fans, telling them “my day is over” and kicking back with some beers while watching my buddies for the next 15 hours.  But despite those thoughts, apparently the thoughts that I didn’t want to go through this training again were stronger, and I persevered. 

And here I am!  Ignore that time – we went off 15 minutes after the first wave start. 

Official swim time: 1:40:03!  20 minutes faster than my goal!  BIZAMM!

Swim/Bike Transition (AKA T1)

Pedro Swayze is officially banned from race photography from now on.  People generally look their WORST during T1 transition, and I am no exception.  And there are lots of photos of it.  Shirt off, belly out, wrinkled-up goggle face, water-logged, drowned rat glory.  Not safe for work.  Proceed at your own risk. 

 

 

 

 

Taking my sweet-ass time.  Christy-pants noted that I looked a little gray after the swim.  Probably because I left all my color in the river.

 

 

   

 

Toweling off to kick off the T1 beauty pagent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model pose. 

 

 

Capturing a photo of a wild AthenaJess in only a sportsbra and spandex is about as rare as the recent photo-capture of the pink hippopatamus in Africa.  Hmmm

 

 

 

 

Wet, bending over, and in a skin-tight white tri-top.  The exact situation I’ve been trying to avoid my whole life. 

 

 

 

 

<<—– Wow. Just wow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You wanna see what doing T1 in style looks like?  Check out Breeda:

Her Sports Illustrated swimsuit pose is more what I had envisioned in my mind:

 

 

After 2 months of not writing my final blog, it seems only fair to not edit out the “fat pics” to give you the whole experience.  But I consider myself fully punished now.  My guilt is done.  This guilty feeling has got no rhythm.

The Bike

I don’t know.  What do you say about a bike ride that is almost 8 hours and two 56-mile loops long?  It was really during this leg, the bulk of the day, that we saw what the FANS were made of.  Driving all over the course, waiting for that moment when they saw us fly by, really takes guts.  I am so grateful for the people that were out there for us all day. 

To prove it, I texted with them.  All day.  While riding my bike.  I wonder if Lance Armstrong does that?  Well anyway, it probably all started when I was 16 and my dad taught me to drive the car with my knee (you know you did, Dad!!!).  I am a pretty good multi-tasker.  I’m not completely dumb – I only text on the flats and the numerous times when I was in the outhouse, but I’ve been saving them for 2 months so I could give you a transcript of the texts coming in.  Everytime I got bored or hopeless, the texts boosted me.

Here details of the race with the text smatterings spread over the day in italics, including updates on Breeda and Prairie, which helped keep me in the loop.  I really wonder how often people doing an Ironman are texting back and forth with their peep’s…?

The first 50 miles are rolling hills and it went pretty well.  My first loop my average speed was higher than normal.  Perhaps it was adrenaline, but I was definitely on track for 8 hours.  I was eating and drinking well, roughly following the plan that was taped to my bike.  I rotated some things around, because for some reason it was hard to eat the real food (i.e. the PB&J).  The bananas and water were what I was happiest with during the 7.5+ hours.  I only got about 1.25 PB&J’s down and ate far less over the bike ride than I anticipated I would.

The first time I saw my Peeps was at about mile 40.  I was about to text Christy to let her know where I was on the course.  But before I had a chance, I came around the corner in Geyserville and boom!  My mom, dad, Christy-pants and Wifey-ann were there, all chilling!  We all were very surprised to see one other and it was a very quick fly-by.  But it was rejuvenating after 2.5 hours or so all lonesome and stuff out there on the course.

Christy-Pants: I love you!  Do this for YOU!!!  You are doing great. Just remember to eat and drink.

Wifey-Ann: Hows that banana holding up?  love u
(I had a banana in my pocket…seriously)

There are really only 2 major climbs on the course, roughly at miles 50 and 100.  The first time it went pretty well, but I must have texted Christy to complain just before scaling it.

Christy-Pants: That hill is your BITCH!!  give it a swift kick!  Love you!  BTW, your mom just bought purple boots for your niece.

Wifey-Ann: Hows the sunburn?  hows the neuroma?
My body held up pretty well during the day, considering all my ailments over the training months.  I was most worried about my neuromas in my feet.  I DID have to take my shoes off at mile 92 to rub my feet and get the circulation back.  It was painful, but taking that 2 minute break made a huge difference to get me through the last 20 miles of the bike ride.  The worst pain of the day came from gas cramps.  Gross, but true. 

Monica:  Jess we love you!  You rock!!!

Around this time, I was coming to the end of the first 56-mile loop and feeling pretty good, which surprised me more than anyone.  I had passed my parents and Christy and Ann and was looking forward to seeing my friends.  I *think* this was somewhere near that point, but who know.

Pedro: Baby I’m here!  Windsor/Reiman!!  Can’t wait my love!

Monica: We’re at mile 56

I saw Coach Brad just before mile 56, the half-way point. I started to panic a few miles later because I was worried I had missed the special needs station to get my second bag of food/nutrition for the second loop.  I yelled out to a volunteer “Where is special needs?!”  He said coming up and I was able to relax a little more and know I would be watered and fed again shortly.  I also was running short on lube and starting to notice some intra-thigh chafing

Christy: (coach) Brad says you’re looking good! 

Monica (after I passed them on the first bike loop): U looked strong! So proud of you!

After I passed my cheering squad, I finally arrived at the special needs/ half-way point, where my sunscreen, new set of water bottles, and extra stashes of chamois butt’r were waiting.  I also had new gu’s, powerbar, and a banana, which I stuffed in my tri-top pockets.  There was a long line at those outhouses, so I opted to wait, despite a very urgent pressure.  A volunteer propped up my bike while I sunscreened up.  Since she was also frying all day in the hot sun, I offered her the rest of my brand new sunscreen can to use and took off. 

Apparently I was taking too long on the 2nd loop, because I got this text about an hour later.  I had had a nice communion with an outhouse around mile 65, which probably didn’t help the cause of forward movement (um, i know there’s a movement joke in there, but i’ll let you make it yourself).

Christy: I’m having to explain to your parents how long it will take you to get to us and why you stopped – just kidding!  Take care of the vag!

Yasi (My friend in NY): Hi Jess! I know you’re out there lapping bitches in the swim right now. Can’t wait to hear! Go go go!

Christy: Prairie just rode past for the second loop.  Looking good!

Around this time, I really started to experience some pretty evil chafing, requiring multiple lubings up on the back half of the bike course.  I was pretty prepared for this though, after the mishaps/Chamois butt’r shortage I had at Wildflower Long Course.  No qualms were had about stopping mid course and sticking my hand down my pants like the pros.

Christy: Your mom thinks that the lube will help you ride faster.  She keeps saying you’ll be at mile 85 any minute now

I love how parents always think you’re better than you are.  Flattering, but I was no where near 85 when i got that text.

Christy: How are you doing?  Do you need anything?  Peanut M&M’s?

Pedro: I love you!  Go team green bag!

One interesting thing about the day was the number of times I stopped on the bike and run.  On the bike, I stopped 3 times for the potties.  The lack of pooping prior to the race was made up over the course of the day.  This was a new phenomenon for me as I’m usually very camel-like during races.  I also stopped to hug my family on my second loop, to take off my shoes at mile 92, and to catch my breath and record a very hilarious conversation I overheard at the top of the hill at mile 100.  And despite all the stops, I still had a MUCH faster bike than I could have anticipated.  Pretty cool.

Christy: Breeda just rode by looking strong with a banana in her cleavage

Wifey-Ann: We just signed u up for a new reality show “SO You THink You can Pedal”

Pedro: Trying to do math here and if my lovely calculations are correct my baby is @ mile 86

I was actually at 85 when I got this, stopping to say hi to my parents. My dad offered me a slice of pizza (which I declined) and I got hugs all around.  There were a few more I love you texts after this point, but it was a note I took on my phone at mile 100 that kept me entertained for the last few miles of the bike ride.

Here it goes.  Let me set the stage.  I was pretty alone towards the end of the bike portion.  The hill that I climbed at mile 50 seemed like a totally different animal at mile 100.  Despite all the encouraging chalk drawings on the asphalt, it was REALLY difficult to haul  my ass up that hill, reminiscent of Nasty Grade at Wildflower Long.  One thing that helped at difficult moments in the day was that the people who were passing me often commented on my aero-bars.  And truthfully, they were really helpful to ME as well.  Remember this?

And I did “never never give up”.  That thought long past during the swim was no longer in my head.  Sure I was kinda bored and over the idea of having to work out for at least another 6 hours, but I was resigned and committed that this thing was getting done.

Ok, so back to the top of the 100-mile hill.  I stopped the MINUTE I crested that thing.  Stopped dead, breathing extremely heavily.  That climb was NO bueno.  No…bueno.  Once things started to come into focus again and my heart rate came back to the triple digits, I heard some chattering across the street.  I froze as I was sure they’d notice me if they detected movement.

Picture Mr. Belding from Saved by the Bell, wearing a bike outfit, out for his weekend ride.  Now picture Carol Walsh from 90210, also in head-to-toe spandex.  Now picture them somehow meeting on this lovely Saturday on a bike ride, and stopping to chat on a curb somewhere mid-ride, after all their other friends had continued on.  What I heard in progress was some bona-fide middle-aged flirting.  And after a very long day (so far), it amused me tremendously.

Mr. Belding: I’ve really enjoyed meeting you today

Carol Walsh: (seductively, giggling) You toooo.

Mr. Belding: You’re a lady.

Carol: Until I’m not…

(Um, gulp).

Mr. Belding: We really should do this again soon.

Carol: tee hee tee hee. 

People say that the day goes by way too fast when you’re racing and you should take your time and enjoy.  This, I enjoyed.  I also was pleased and disturbed to learn that mildly slutty suggestiveness is not something that deteriorates with age.

Ok, back to my race, because that’s why we’re all here.

ONce that 100 miles was up, I really kinda mentally was OVER the bike ride.  In all my 100-mile rides, I probably fell short a few miles.  95, 96.  100.  What’s the difference?  Well let me tell you that the difference between 100 and 112 miles for me was about the difference of 45 minutes.  That is no small potatoes after 7 hours of riding.  And I had to play a lot of games with myself, clicking the bike monitor back and forth between miles, time, average speed, etc to keep my mind off of the fact that I had a MARATHON looming. 

What?  yeah, a MARATHON. 

But FIRST – T2!

I had not yet seen Breeda and I figured that she passed me at mile 92 when I was lubing/foot massaging.

But as luck would have it, we came into T2 at pretty much the exact same time, which was really really fortunate.  We spent a good 10 minutes or so there, sunscreening, changing socks, eating, toweling off.  I brushed my teeth and used towelettes to wash my face.  Short of shaving and using a loofah, I was about as fresh as one could expect after 9 hours of exercise.  Excited Ready to run!

I reluctantly put on my fuel belt, deciding with B’s help to just use it for loop #1 and then discard it later if I wanted.  The worst part was that I was sooooo bloated at this part that it was just uncomfortable to strap it on.  But I needed my sport beans and fluid, and so I took the risk.

3 loops of 8.6 miles each.  Shall we?

MARATHOOOOOOOOON!  26.2 MILE RUN

Prairie was long gone on her run now, probably nearing the end of her first loop. And Breeda’s ass started to look smaller and smaller as she got away from me.  But none of that mattered, because I had to settle in to MY run and just get my head into the game.

Our fans had planted themselves at about mile .5, which meant seeing them at mile .5, 8.5, 9.5, 17.5, 18.5, and then the finish.  After a long day of watching, I was kinda glad that between all of us racers, they were pretty much having moments of excitement every 45 minutes or so. 

Here are pics from that cheering spot, of me and the girls.

After I first set out on the run.  The fuel belt is still on.  It must be loop #1.  Notice my matching hat and top.  Different brands, but extremely well-coordinated, if I do say so myself.  People were remarking how surprised they were that I was smiling and looking strong. Delirium maybe? 

Actually, we are smiling in most every picture.

Below are some fan pics in their little area.

Thank goodness it was a nice day – not TOO hot.  It could have been worse.  I’m told they consumed a fair amount of wine to get through the hours and hours of cheering and waiting.  Sure was a lot of waiting and build-ups and then the intense orgasm of cheering for a few seconds followed by more lulls.  At least they had multiple orgasms throughout the day.  It was unbelievable uplifting to know that they were there waiting to give us a boost.  I don’t know HOW someone could do an ironman without a fan club. 

 

Christy-pants

P-dog’s Mama

My dad lecturing my friend Nicole.

 

 

 

 

Monica

Wifey-Ann

My mama

 

 

 

 

Breeda coming back from loop #1.  The pink was awesome.  You could see her coming from a mile away.  I tried to keep her in sight, but lost her on the 3rd loop.  No way my little fire hydrant legs can compete with those gams.  

Loop #2, Breeda headed out, killing it!

Here is me heading out on Loop #2.  Look closely Why am I going the wrong way, you ask?
Well I apparently dropped my little water bottle and flipped a quick bitch to get the damn thing.  Let me tell you that changing direction mid-marathon is never a good thing:

Here I am with my friend Stacy.  She tried to offer me up my fuel-belt, which I had deposited back with them on my return off loop #1.  But no way, was I taking that heavy thing out for a second loop.  I like that I look like I’m kinda running here.  Most of the pics it looks like i’m barely walking.  But I averaged about 4.5 mph over the course of the run! 

Oh my gosh, i LOVE this next pic.  This was when my mother, battling stage IV Breast Cancer did part of the race with me.  I couldn’t believe it, as she had already been a major trooper, but this just topped it all off.  I tried to stop her, but she was focused, in her flip flops and hoodie. 

God bless her little heart. 

Check this out – this is Prairie FINISHING the race.  I actually was THERE for her finish, hearing her name called out over the loudspeaker, as I was sitting on a curb changing my socks after my my 2nd loop, ready to start my final 8.6 miles.  I was really proud of her.  Ok, a little jealous.  I still had 2 hours to go.

13.5 hours – amazing!

About this time, I was headed out for my last loop. The 3rd loop included a head lamp, because by this time it was after 8pm and then sun was departing for the day.   Out there in the back roads of Sonoma, it is DARK.  There is one GIANT spotlight on a long straight road, but other than that, you are really at the mercy of whatever light you are carrying.  I was handed a neon band once I embarked on my 3rd loop, but it was hardly creating any light.

Let me digress for a moment and explain a loop of the course (and then you can multiply it by 3).

It’s not a terrible difficult course, other than the fact it is 26.2 miles.  It’s rolling hills, with one short .1 or .2 mile climb at around the 2nd mile.  Then it’s more rolling hills and a flat stretch before you head up the most difficult hill that lasts about 1/4 mile.  This happens around mile 3.5  But you do it 3 times, remember?  After you get to the top of that hill, you have another .75 miles or so to run to get to the turnaround.  It’s nice that it’s broken into parts.  I thought of it as 13.1 2-mile runs .

Along this run, there are about 4 stations each direction with food and drink.  I was actually really impressed by the spread of food, including tons of fruit – bananas, peaches, oranges – and snacks like fig newtons, oreos, powerbars, and gels.  Tons of water and gatorade was available as well.  After the first loop laden down with a fuel belt I didn’t even use, I discarded that damn thing with friends and family at the end of loop #1.  We had the option to carry this little plastic environmentally safe cup, which worked ok all-in-all.

I discovered something at these aide stations, but it took a couple trial runs to realize.  I canNOT tolerate peaches on a marathon run.  The first time I ate a couple, all juicy and yummy and I IMMEDIATELY had horrible cramps.  Thinking it was just normal wear-and-tear, I tried again a few aide stations later.  Same thing.  Being a slow learner at times, I tried one last time (those peaches were really tasty and juicy), but sharp pains again.  I stuck to oranges and bananas after that.

It was on the run that I struggled most with nutrition.  By the end of the day, after 13 or 14 hours of movement, I started to struggle with tolerating food.  I was really gassy, stopping at the port-a-potty unsuccessfully.  It was kinda painful.  Additionally, the idea of Gatorade was repulsive by the time it was dark out.  I had to rework my strategy on the run, as I had discarded the sportbeans and was repulsed by Gatorade.

Here is how I handled it on loop 2 and 3.  I ate ORANGES.  Lots and lots of oranges.  I ate them at every aide station.  They provided not only a lot of juice/hydration, but also enough nourishment to give me strength to finish.  I also tried to drink water every mile or so, but it was tough. 

I don’t think anyone captured a photo of me in action in my groovy headlamp, so here’s just another kinda cool sepia photo:

Another. 

The race didn’t REALLY get interesting until loop 3. 

To put it bluntly, that one was a mind-fuck. 

It gets dark.  You’re alone. Gassy. Afraid.  The aide stations start to close.  Your legs each weigh 100 pounds.  The spectators are no more. 

I had 2 watches on – one timing the entire day start to finish, and then a second one I added at the run to time my marathon.  Starting loop 3, I had about 2.45 hours to complete the race on time.  That’s 8.6 miles, which would mean less than 3mph for the loop.  I realized that unless something drastic happened, I would definitely be done by 11 pm.  But around this time, I realized I could maybe do the last loop in about 2 hours (based on my prior 2 loops of about 1:45 and 1:50.  Which would mean I could do it in UNDER 15:30 hours.  Whoa, really?

The last loop was all about those watched.  Back and forth calculating in my head how fast I had to be going.  And the thing is that by the end it was ROUGH.

My strategy for the marathon had been to run 5:1’s (5 run/1 walk).  At no point was this the case.  At times I did 3:1’s, other times I made it for a 9 or 10 minute interval, but most of the time it was really taking it as it came. 

But the last loop, especially around mile 23, it was REALLY rough.  It was pitch black, I was farting like it was my job, and trying to do it subtly so as not to alert any wilderness animals attracted by gas.  Seriously, it was very creepy out there.  It was a huge relief to get to the top of the big hill and see Coach Brad STILL staking out that spot, cheering on his competitors.  It’s a lonely spot and I was glad to see him (and give him my sunglasses to hold).  A few yards later I almost jumped out of my skin when a phantom horse whinnied and snorted.  Not cool, Mr. Ed, not cool.

Coming back on the last loop, I was going REALLY slow.  Really.  I was forcing myself to run a minute at a time.  I would talk out loud to myself, throughout the end: “Jess, just run for 1 minute.  You can do ANYthing for a minute.  One minute, c’mon.”  When I walked, I tried to walk fast.  Surprisingly, though most of the time I was barely doing 1 minutes, I actually had a couple of 3-5 minute intervals at the end.  I was racing against my own clock, trying to get done before the 15:30 mark. 

With 2 miles left, I had 30 minutes to achieve that goal.  It was NOT a shoo-in.  It hurt.

With 1 mile left, I had 17 minutes or so.  I wanted to walk the rest of the way, but in some ways walking hurt worse.  I felt proud somewhere near the end when a guy praised me for still running, while he limped towards his own finish.

I had to be very careful at this point to NOT think about the finish, because every time I did, I started to tear up, which sapped my strength.  So I thought of happy things, dissociated, hummed, talked to myself – whatever I had to to inch myself closer to the end.

I inched and inched and got through the last little residential zone, where you make a left turn to run the last 1/4 mile to the finish line.

And then, emerging from the darkness was a handsome apparition, screaming his little head off, yelling my name (sorta): “Baby! Baby! You’re almost there”  Oh. my. gosh.  In this sea of nothing, with only a headlamp and neon party bracelet to guide me, was Pedro Swazye, at the corner, cheering and smiling. 

To say that my body was running out of energy is an understatement.  And yet, when there is hope, the body is an amazing thing.

Seeing him snapped me back into my body.  I knew I was close and reached back into my reserves.

Pedro ran ahead, to alert everyone I was coming earlier than expected.  Oddly, I ran by Wifey-Ann and Christy near the finish chute, surprised I was already heading towards the finish.

They yelled out for me and followed to meet me at the finish.

But at this time I had blinders.  All I saw was a finish chute, a finish line, and a sea of people.

I probably hit my max speed at this point in my run (what, like 5mph? lol), but it felt like I was flying.  Until I stopped dead in my tracks just shy of the finish line.

Because there was my mom and dad, cheering me just before the finish. 

I stopped to hug them and there was crying and crying and crying, and my mom telling me she loved me.  It was an incredible moment, that jogged me out of the pain of the day.

Thanks to Chrissy for this photo:

 

A moment later…or shall I say 15 hours, 26 minutes, and 35.4 seconds later  

 

I.  was. an.  Ironman.

I had planned to lift my arms at the finish.  I guess the plan should have included lifting my heavy head up too.  But yes, that is actually me.

I finished every single leg faster than I expected or hoped.  Despite all my stops on the bike, I still did it in 7:40.  My marathon?  My first ever MARATHON??  sub 6! And that’s AFTER 9 hours of exercise.  Sitting her on the couch after a horrible 30 minute jog this afternoon, I admit I am stunned at what I was able to do. 

Here are some photos as I stumbled through the finish:

 

 

I LOVE this photo.  It really captures the fatigue that enveloped my body almost immediately.  I also don’t look fat. And I dig my compression socks.

 

 

I cried a lot at the finish.  It is such a huge relief, it’s hard to contain it within your body.  The overwhelming feeling of it being OVER, that you can STOP, is unbelievably gratifying, joyous, and relieving.

Hugging Prairie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With my IRONWOMEN.  Um, my medal is not actually made of a sunflower.  Photo trick.  Ha.

oh hell, here is Pedro Swayze, propping me up, neon armband and all.  He has deftly avoided all photos in this blog up to this point, but enough is enough.  And his name is Martin (pronounced Mar-teen).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With Dad

 

With Mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The crazy aftermath of the race back at our cabin is a story for another blog entry (one that i won’t wait another 2 months to tell). Despite the fact that there was the momentary high at the finish line, the drop is STEEP and FAST.  For me, it lasted for about 2 months

But I’m glad I’ve finally had a chance, however delayed, to tell you the story of my day, or the highlights.  I have a few more entries I do want to write, but 70 days post-race, my endurance ain’t what it used to be, and 4 hours of writing is all i got.

Quickly, regarding race day, I want to thank all the people who supported me from afar, including my blog readers, as well as the people who were able to be there and sat through the longest day EVER.  It made the difference between a very trying day and a very trying day with lots of love around.  Best I can tell, there were no fights and the wine was flowing, which helped.  So thanks to Monica, our AMAZING head cheerleader, Nicole, Stacy, Sarah, Prairie’s Mom & Sister, Pedro, Wifey-Ann, Christy-pants, Karina, Coach Brad, Karla, Coach Paul, Chrissy, and Andie’s mom, and especially my mom and dad.

THANK YOU!!!!!!! 

VINEMAN IRON-DISTANCE 2010

2.4 MILE SWIM – 112 MILE BIKE – 26.2 MILE RUN.

Swim: 01:40:03.9

T1: 00:08:42.7

Bike: 07:41:23.5

T2: 00:10:12.9

Run: 05:46:12.4

TOTAL:  15 HOURS, 26 MINUTES, 35.4 SECONDS