If you're a blogger, do you ever wonder if anyone ever reads your stuff?? Not that it matters, because it's mainly for myself and my memories.
But just curious if anyone reads this sucker??
Oh...
I registered for CdA 2010 this morning ;) I've got some unfinished business to take care of.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
FUNK is gone... Fomo returning...
Ha! After a few days of reflection... I've decided I want to do another Ironman. Not sure when or where, but definitely want to better my time.
Damn it...
Damn it...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
FUNK!
I posted this on the T3 forum this morning and thought I'd copy and paste for reflection:
Does anyone that did CdA have wierd negative feelings going on?? I feel like I can't get rid of the mental demons yet. Yes, I'm very proud and excited that I finished my first Ironman, but when everyone congratulates and tells me how much of an inspiration I am, I can only think of how unprepared I felt on Sunday. I know the weather sucked as much as it could possibly suck and I am grateful for pushing through it. But never in the 6 months of training, did I think I was going to have the looming fear of fighting for every ounce to not get booted from the course. From the first loop of the bike, I was in fear of not making it, and as much as I tried I'm pretty sure this took away from my experience, because I felt like I was fighting the entire time, to just make it to the next cutoff.
I see everyone excited about what's next, and I frankly can't muster up the want that everyone has. This isn't like me. I am always wanting to better my time. But for some reason, I don't with this.
Any feedback? I hate feeling this negative about something I should really be jumping for joy over. Is this normal? I feel like I'm still on a F-ing roller coaster.
I feel extremely negative about what I just accomplished. Wierd, huh? I talked to my cousin this morning on the way to work and at the end of the conversation, she said, "Wow, you sound really pessimistic about something so inspiring and awesome." That clicked with me. I know I should be on cloud nine, I know I should be gloating, but I can't keep thinking negative thoughts about my race. I know I should be proud because we did have teammates not finish and I sound ungrateful. Anyways.. just venting.
Does anyone that did CdA have wierd negative feelings going on?? I feel like I can't get rid of the mental demons yet. Yes, I'm very proud and excited that I finished my first Ironman, but when everyone congratulates and tells me how much of an inspiration I am, I can only think of how unprepared I felt on Sunday. I know the weather sucked as much as it could possibly suck and I am grateful for pushing through it. But never in the 6 months of training, did I think I was going to have the looming fear of fighting for every ounce to not get booted from the course. From the first loop of the bike, I was in fear of not making it, and as much as I tried I'm pretty sure this took away from my experience, because I felt like I was fighting the entire time, to just make it to the next cutoff.
I see everyone excited about what's next, and I frankly can't muster up the want that everyone has. This isn't like me. I am always wanting to better my time. But for some reason, I don't with this.
Any feedback? I hate feeling this negative about something I should really be jumping for joy over. Is this normal? I feel like I'm still on a F-ing roller coaster.
I feel extremely negative about what I just accomplished. Wierd, huh? I talked to my cousin this morning on the way to work and at the end of the conversation, she said, "Wow, you sound really pessimistic about something so inspiring and awesome." That clicked with me. I know I should be on cloud nine, I know I should be gloating, but I can't keep thinking negative thoughts about my race. I know I should be proud because we did have teammates not finish and I sound ungrateful. Anyways.. just venting.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
IMCDA 2009 Race Report
Warning: Will probably be long and full of detail, for my own memories pleasure.
Days before the race. I flew in on Thursday with Sabrina. Steve and Dee were to be on a separate flight, but arriving an hour after us. Long story short on this minor hiccup, Dee didn't arrive till 1am that night because of a flight delay :( Spent the upcoming days, taking photos galore trying to capture the moment. I'll upload these to my Flickr account later. We went through Athlete Check In, picked up our bikes, attended practice swim, practice ride (in some sprinkles) and rode the bike course. Bike course seemed hilly, but you can never get the full effect "driving" as you do when you're actually running or cycling the day of. I remember this from California. Dee and I drove the course, but it never seemed to match when you were actually in race mode running.
Days prior were full of anxious energy, all good. I kept thinking to myself that I had spent many days wishing that the IM were the next day so I could "get it over with" and there we were the night before. I didn't sleep two nights prior to the race since my nervous energy was already peaking. Just thinking of the magnitude of what I was about to embark was sending crazy brain waves and ideas in my head.
Fast forward to race day :) The good stuff.
Woke up at 4:30am. Kinda early, but decided to jump in the shower. Steve and Dee work up at 4:45am, and we ate our pre-race breakfast. We left the house at 5:15am. I was doing the happy dance, every time I could and Steve would laugh at me. Amber flew in the night before, and she was with us. We got pretty good parking and as we were unloading our morning race bags Steve says, "Why do my bags look so full and yours don't??" Of course, wouldn't you know it. In all my happy dancing nervous energy, I prepared my water bottles for the bike and left them on the counter!!! Dee was on it, two seconds later, she was in the drivers seat heading back to the house. I was about to panic, but figured WHY?? Nothing I can do to change it. If she doesn't make it back, or I can't happen to find her, I have plenty of solid nutrition to get me through and I'll just have to suck down the aide stations gatorade :) I'm a lucky gal, and they made it back in time. Steve and I got body marked, checked our tires, made port o potty stops and the morning was off to a great start. I was able to talk to Adrian before the race and that was nice. We got dressed in our ultra sexy wetsuits, and headed down to the swim start.
Wow... all the athletes, in full on wetsuits, ear plugs, big goggles, small goggles, big guys, little girls, fat, skinny, old, young. It was a pretty neat sight. Helicopter hovering over us, spectators galore and the lake lined with ski boats, house boats and other boats to just watch was amazing. I saw a couple T3'ers, wished them luck and we were on the beach. Steve had a different plan for the swim start, so I gave him a hug, told him I'd see him as he passed me on the bike, and I left. I mosied on down closer to the front. I know I'm not a ubber fast swimmer, but I am a ubber comfortable swimmer, which I think gives me a little more confidence in the open water, in the masses as the average joe. I was a little shocked and how NOT congested the beach line up was. I assumed it'd be like a concert, where you would have to "Excuse me, coming through, excuse me" type crowded. But it wasn't. There was enough room to walk right up the edge of the water if I wanted. Everyone was pretty far spaced out. And spaced out they were. There were athletes lined up on the inside of the buoys all the way down the beach for the ones that wanted to attempt to swim outside of the masses.
Swim: 1:26:20 - 2:16 pace
Before I knew it, the blowhorn went off. I was about 5 seconds from the start. And I jumped right in. Rewind to race morning. My anxiety had my heart rate at 120. I noticed this when I put my bike computer on my bike. My heart was racing with anticipation ALL morning. Back to swim... When I got into the water, I just started swimming. I was surprised, cause normally, it takes a few minutes to get my heart and breathing into a rhythm, but since I started with it high, I had no problems getting into a breathing, comfortability place. The beginning was the washing machine action. It didn't get less crowded until the 3rd buoy. I noticed the water was WAY choppier than the practice swim. I swallowed a ton of lake, and distinctly remember hearing ringing noises in my right ear from the slapping of my head coming down on the water from the swells. A few teammates have stated 3 foot swells. Wow. Luckily, it didn't make me nervous. Everyone was swimming in it, it's not like I was singled out, so I just rolled with it. If anything, I was at an advantage because I was in a good mental place. I kept humming to myself, "Just keep swimming" from Finding Nemo. And I even got a little creative. Adrian told me about a time when he witnessed Brandon swimming and how his stroke was so strong that he actually lifted his body up in the water. So I pretended I was just THAT good of a swimmer. Yes, I know I'm not, but I was in my fairy tale. Just swimming with the swells, enjoying the moment of the swim. I got to swim without being knocked, kicked, pulled or pushed for a few minutes, and then there was the turn buoy. Talk about mass cluster muck. I think 70% of the swimmers thought the turn buoy meant, "Let's invent some new kicks underwater, pick our heads up and just hang out here." Everyone seemed to come to a standstill and it wasn't a nice scene filtering through. Got through it, and the current/swells were the worst for the back half. I made the first loop in 40 minutes. Super happy, but knew that the adrennaline from the first loop was probably the reason for a pretty decent time. Sighting was hard with all the caps in the water, and the swells, it was hard to find the buoys sometimes, which meant I'd swim off course quite a bit. It's not always safe to follow feet, cause not all feet know where they're going. I'm happy with my swim. I was estimating 1:30, so 1:26 was icing on the cake.
T1: 7:43
Something I had NOT practiced and that was changing from wet clothes to dry spandex in a rush. I immediately regretted not swimming in my tri suit and just wearing from start to finish, but soon remembered that I'd be doing this literally ALL day and comfort was the reason. A few extra minutes in transition wasn't going to make or break my day. Little did I know how close I'd be cutting everything, but that's to come. I found a seat towards the end, and was shocked to see I beat a few top T3'ers out of the water :) I got changed as fast as I could and thankfully a volunteer helped with the last half. I was off to the bike... dum da dum dum.
Bike:8:18:52, 13.47mph
Legs felt ok for the start, but I knew it was going to be a long day on the bike and this was going to make or break my IM debut. I decided to not concentrate on what my Garmin showed. No obsessing about my average speed, no obsessing about current speed, just ride what my legs felt, give it what I had and have no regrets. I made it out of town, and the hills. We had driven the course and knew there were lots, but didn't get the full concept until I actually rode it. After we got out there, it seemed like the hills were never ending. Climb, climb, climb. I wanted to take it easy so I wouldn't fry my legs for the 1st loop and be hanging on for dear life for the 2nd, but I also didn't want to take it too easy that I screw myself either. Fine line. I made it through the first loop ok. Nothing really started screwing with my head until we started coming back to town. My nutrition was like clockwork. 15 minutes, eat. Next 15 minutes, drink nutrition. Every 15 minutes, I was eating or drinking. Every two hours, Salt Stick. Time went by and I just dealt with the hills as they came, thinking to myself, "Just one more time around and I'll never have to see this hill again... forever..." Steve caught me on about mile 35, and we talked for two seconds exchanging, "Wow, these hills are tough." And then some "We're doing this, see you later on the run!" On the way back to town, it was flat. But it was longer than I remembered. There was about 10-15 miles to get back and I just remember thinking it took forever. I was also looking for a 1st loop completed sign or something and never saw it, just continued on to my 2nd loop without any noticeable "2nd loop starts here" type of sign. I started to worry. I checked my average pace, and it was 14 point something. I had high confidence going into this that I could average 15 with no problem, and the fact that loop 1, which would assumingly be my fastest, was almost near the cut off average freaked me out. I started the mental roller coaster, but remembered that for every down, there's an up. I went out for my 2nd. Saw a ton of T3'ers. The course was nice, cause it allowed for many out and backs. Yes, the scenery was nice, but it didn't take away the fact that I HAD to make the bike cut off or the last 6 months of my time, energy, heart and soul would be defeated. There were more than 2 hills that I had to stand up on, or else I wasn't moving. These were impossible for me to climb sitting down. My legs were showing signs of fatigue and I started drinking more and I increased my salt intake from 1 every 2 hours to 1 every hour. On a few of the hills, my speed going up them registered as 2.3 mph. No joke. 2.3 mph. The only thing I could think was this was bringing my average mph deathly close to the cut off average. I felt like I was in survival mode. Push, push, push. The next minute, I'd be happy, trying to not stress. The next moment, stress and fear. Then the cooler temps came, then the wind. I screamed out, "You've got to f-ing be kidding me." This was my form of prayer. I had done this on several training rides. Talking to God. I just couldn't believe this. I had a 2 minutes moment where I talked outloud, cause noone was around. It went like this.
Me: "You've got to be F-ing kidding me, right?? You give me choppy water for the swim, and it's pretty nipply out here, and now you're throwing in headwinds when I'm struggling to make a bike cut off. Wow... I can't believe this."
God: replied with headwinds.
I've heard we had 20-25 mile headwinds. The hills; in my opinion, were hard, but it was mentally tough to have the downhills hard, because you were fighting a headwind. I made several sarcastic comments to the volunteers. They'd ask, "Water, gatorade, gel?" and I yelled, "Turn off the fan!!" They just laughed, but I was really irritated. I felt like I had it hard enough to be struggling with hills and extremely slow bike averages, that why in the world did I have to deal with winds too? And then... on those out and backs where I saw my friends, I realized I was now on the other end. I was the one coming back as people were heading out, and I became grateful. Back to be positive. I could do this again. It could be worse, I could be them going out. I pushed as hard as I could and got really anxious when I hit 100. I only had 12 miles to go, but was deathly close to 8 hours. I don't have my Garmin yet to read statistics, but I knew that 8 hours was the cut off, if I had used the entire swim time. Thankfully, I had banked 30-40 minutes from my swim. It made me nervous that I had to dip into that bank. I was pretty confident that my training had gotten me to a place, where I wouldn't have to stress about the cut off, but I was wrong and here I was stressing for 4+ hours of the bike not knowing if I would make it. The ride into town was nice. I could feel myself getting emotional, but knew I wasn't in the clear until I crossed that timing mat. I've had training rides in the past where the last 5-10 miles, my legs are so shot that I literally couldn't average over 8mph on flat roads. I did the math, and figured out I had to average at least 11mph to make it in time. This gave me a boast, and I was at around 15 for the way back. I saw Dee, Sabrina, Sam, and Amber cheering for me and that started the tears. I even have an ugly cry pic of my on the bike. I got to the volunteers at the timing mat, I dismounted and I asked, "Did I make it??" and this lone guy said, "Yes!" I asked again, "Are you serious, I really made it?" and he said yes again, and I started crying. Not a tear here rolling down, I'm so proud of myself cry. This was a full on, tears streaming, holy crap, I did it let out cry. I cried for the entire walk to get my bag and in the changing tent. I quickly found an empty seat and just sat there for a full 60 seconds and cried. A volunteer came up and asked if I was ok, and I was so choked up I had to catch my breath and I told her not to worry, these were happy tears. She helped me change and get into my running clothes. I made it.
T2: 7:51
I probably could have cut off 2-3 minutes because of the cry. But I didn't care. My biggest fear was behind me. If I didn't want to touch my bike ever again, I didn't have to. I will, but I know have the option.
Run:6:25:45 - 14:43/mile
It pains me to type that. But back to the report. I came out of the changing tent to Dee, Sabrina, Sam, and Amber cheering for me. Still a little choked up, I went out to the run. I felt on fire. Garmin showed 9:00 min mile pace. I knew this wouldn't last long but figured I'd hang on as long as I could. This lasted for 2-3 minutes, and I caught a huge side stitch that made me walk. I went for a Salt Stick and remembered that I was so caught up in my crying in the tent, I forgot to take the SaltSticks from my bike jersey to my tri top. CRAP. I got nervous, but figured the aide stations would have some. I walked for a good 4-6 minutes, elongated my chest, took deep breaths to get rid of my cramp. I immediately thought I was under electrolyted and got nervous. I was even more nervous, because at both aide stations, they had no electorlyte pills at all. I figured I'd drink more and eat more to compensate. Tried to blow it off. The run slowed down and I decided I wasn't going to stare at my Garmin. So I took it off, and put it in my back pocket. It beeped at the mile, but it wasn't staring me in the face with my slow paces. I had big goals of running a 5:00 marathon. I ate 12 humble pies on Sunday. My goals were too much. Yes, I ran the long 18, 20, 22 miles long runs this pace after 80, 90, and 100 mile rides, but my legs had 20 hours of rest in between. Today, they had 7:51 seconds to recover from the longest ride I've ever done, 112. I figured, "Anyone can walk an 8 hour marathon. This is a piece of cake." I didn't realize it was a piece of humble, I'm not sure I can do this, I might not make it to the FINAL cut off, piece of pie! The first 13 were long... and slow. The 2nd lap felt even more daunting than the 2nd bike loop. I got to see all my T3 buds, BUT they were ALL on their 2nd lap and I was on my first. I saw Dee and friends at close to the turnaround. Also saw Steve a few minutes before. Each time we saw each other, we stopped to hug and said, "I can't believe we're doing this today. Good job, I'll catch you pretty soon." I also really intended on passing people during the run, meaning my T3 teammates. This didn't happen until the end.... very end. And when it did, it was survival mode. More on that later.
I started the second loop still pretty confident, but a disappointed at how deathly slow I was "running". It took me almost 3 hours to run 13 miles. Insane and a big blow to my "running" ego. I would walk here and there, but just couldn't stomach that I was walking and would start running again. I ran 95% of the entire marathon, now the pace is a different story, but I was doing one form or another of running. Whether it be running, jogging, or shuffling, I wasn't walking. Not that walking is bad, but I'm a SLOOOOOOW walker. When I walk, I walk. I noticed my paces were dropping as the night went on, and realized that when I was stopping to walk, it was considerably slower than my slow "running" pace. For instance, my last 4 miles were a 20 min mile pace. Yes, it is possible to pass people while running a 20 min mile pace. I didn't think it was humanly possible to do this, until Sunday. I shuffled an entire marathon. I had 4 hours to complete 13 hours. Still seemed like a piece of cake, but as the miles slowly, and I mean slowly went by, the time kept creeping with it. Before I knew it, I had 6 miles to go and only 1:45 to get to the finish. And this was 1 hour and 45 minutes to made the FINAL, you're an Ironman cut off. Never in all this training, did I ever think to myself that I wouldn't be able to run the marathon fast enough to make the FINAL cutoff if I made the bike cutoff. In the final, dark, literally dark hours, this fear became a reality. I ate and drank a ton, and my potty stops showed. I must have used the restroom 8-10 times during my marathon. Just urinating, but full blown, full bladder pees. In these last 6 miles, I realized it was my body not holding onto the liquids, hence me not having any electrolyte pills with me. My hands were frozen and they were already starting the tingly, crampy (retarded looking) hands that were reminiscent of my Galveston medical tent trip. At mile 16, I committed myself to NO more walking, unless it was the hill at the end of Coeur d'Alene lake. I shuffled from mile 16 on. I was in survival mode. If I stopped, I feared that I was pass out from the lack of electrolytes and the cramping I could feel coming on. Galveston was in my mind, and that frightened me. To come this far, and not make it for a stupid mistake of not packing two separate bags of Salt Sticks. I should have done one for each bag, instead of trying to remember. I didn't realize how much of a blur things would be in the moment. So I shuffled, and shuffled. I had a ton of thoughts in my head. Here are a few:
- I'm soooo that lone runner... in the dark... during all those Ironman videos that I always thought to myself, there's no way I'd be them. And was.
-I can't believe I made it this far and it's sooooo hard to get my legs to turnover.
-I can't believe I can't excel in the one sport that I thought I had in the bag.
-Pain is temporary, not making the cut off is forever.
-(I'm not going to lie) I was super sad that I thought I'd be disappointing Adrian with my near cut off time performance.
-I do enjoy glowsticks in the dark.
-Running in the dark, with no light, is fun. I thought of Meredith/Mike on their running adventure when they were training for a trail race.
-Timing mats were embarrasing me cause of how slow I had progressed all day.
-Could the weather get any worse?
The marathon had rain 90% of the time I was out there. I was freezing cold and would wrap in a mylar blanket, then get hot and shed it. Then get another mylar blanket, then shed it. I got my use out of the course, the volunteers and later the medical tent.
The last few miles of the marathon were grueling. I couldn't stop for fear that the cramping, tingling would ensue. It was happening in my hands already, and my right calf felt like it was going to Johnny Horse any minute. In the last 2 miles, my stomach started cramping. I drank cold.. yes, cold chicken broth at the last of the aide stations. It was gross cold, but I forced it down thinking the salt would help subside the cramping/tingling so I could finish.
The last half mile, Sabrina met me and walked as I was "running". We bantered back and forth, I joked with the last volunteer that finally told me truth about "You're almost done." I heard this phrase repeatedly throughout the day, and near the end, I started correcting them. "I'm not almost done, I have a marathon to go. Or I'm not almost done, I still have 56 miles on the bike AND a marathon. Or I'm not almost done, would you like to run the last 16 I have to go if you think I'm almost done??? Ok, I only used one of those phrases, but I sure thought all of those in my head. The last 3 miles, once I turned into the neighborhood were crazy lonely. There was one guy ahead of me and I caught him, but later let him pass. I didn't want to cross the finish line with a guy 5 feet behind me. Then it all clicked that I had 40 minutes to get there, and I was in fact going to cross the finish line as an Ironman. Wow. So as I was running down the final street, about 10 people came running by. Where were these people when I was alone for the last 4 miles?????? I turned around at least 4 times to tell them to have a great finish, cause I wanted the line to myself whenever I got there. The finish happened fast, in memory, not in speed. By then, my legs were just thumping one over the other. There was no running to my form, other that I wasn't locking out my hips as you do in walking. My arms were barely moving, and I was at a slow death shuffle. The final stretch I started crying. Everyone had their hands out, and all I could do was put my cramped up hand up against theirs. I couldn't stop moving forward, cause I knew my body was about to react. My face was starting to tingle amongst the tears, and I think my body just went into overload in those last 20 feet. I slapped as many hands and I could, tried to raise my arms up as high as I could, and I crossed. I did it, and I cried. 10 seconds after I said, "I need a small" for the finishers shirt, my entire face went into the tingly, locked up sensation, hands were in full cramp, and I was starting to black out. One of the volunteers grabbed me, then another, and I told them I needed medical before I blacked out. She didn't believe me, so I leaned on her, and that got her attention. My body went to the max, as I did in Galveston.
Final Time: 16:25:45
Med Tent: My body did the same exact thing it did in Galveston. My entire body tingled, my hands cramped up, and my entire face cramped so much that I could not open my mouth, nor stick out my tongue. Doc said I was hyperventilating, a tad bit hyperthermic, but they couldn't get my temperature cause they could not open my mouth, it was locked. They questioned me a ton, and I answered with mumbles and headshakes. They were the sweetest. An IV, plenty of hot blankets, and lots of care, I was the last person in the medical tent to leave. I heard Mike Reilly countdown from 5 to 17 hours, and my heart fell for the ones that didn't make the cut off that were still on the course. About an hour in the tent, I finally regained feeling.
I did it.
What I learned:
-Adrian was proud of me, no matter what my time was.
-I do still, after a days rest, DO NOT WANT TO DO ANOTHER IRONMAN.
-I think it's funny that my first Ironman happened to land on the one CdA Ironman that had the worst weather in IMCDA history, but I survived it.
-I have a new respect, that's even newer than the original respect I had for this distance and for the athletes that continue to amaze me by doing this more than once.
-I wish I had trained for another year at Olympics and Half IM's before attempting a full.
-Everything considered, I'm glad this is over with. I feel like a huge boulder has been removed from my shoulders.
-I don't think it's sunk in that I can be considered an Ironman yet...
Days before the race. I flew in on Thursday with Sabrina. Steve and Dee were to be on a separate flight, but arriving an hour after us. Long story short on this minor hiccup, Dee didn't arrive till 1am that night because of a flight delay :( Spent the upcoming days, taking photos galore trying to capture the moment. I'll upload these to my Flickr account later. We went through Athlete Check In, picked up our bikes, attended practice swim, practice ride (in some sprinkles) and rode the bike course. Bike course seemed hilly, but you can never get the full effect "driving" as you do when you're actually running or cycling the day of. I remember this from California. Dee and I drove the course, but it never seemed to match when you were actually in race mode running.
Days prior were full of anxious energy, all good. I kept thinking to myself that I had spent many days wishing that the IM were the next day so I could "get it over with" and there we were the night before. I didn't sleep two nights prior to the race since my nervous energy was already peaking. Just thinking of the magnitude of what I was about to embark was sending crazy brain waves and ideas in my head.
Fast forward to race day :) The good stuff.
Woke up at 4:30am. Kinda early, but decided to jump in the shower. Steve and Dee work up at 4:45am, and we ate our pre-race breakfast. We left the house at 5:15am. I was doing the happy dance, every time I could and Steve would laugh at me. Amber flew in the night before, and she was with us. We got pretty good parking and as we were unloading our morning race bags Steve says, "Why do my bags look so full and yours don't??" Of course, wouldn't you know it. In all my happy dancing nervous energy, I prepared my water bottles for the bike and left them on the counter!!! Dee was on it, two seconds later, she was in the drivers seat heading back to the house. I was about to panic, but figured WHY?? Nothing I can do to change it. If she doesn't make it back, or I can't happen to find her, I have plenty of solid nutrition to get me through and I'll just have to suck down the aide stations gatorade :) I'm a lucky gal, and they made it back in time. Steve and I got body marked, checked our tires, made port o potty stops and the morning was off to a great start. I was able to talk to Adrian before the race and that was nice. We got dressed in our ultra sexy wetsuits, and headed down to the swim start.
Wow... all the athletes, in full on wetsuits, ear plugs, big goggles, small goggles, big guys, little girls, fat, skinny, old, young. It was a pretty neat sight. Helicopter hovering over us, spectators galore and the lake lined with ski boats, house boats and other boats to just watch was amazing. I saw a couple T3'ers, wished them luck and we were on the beach. Steve had a different plan for the swim start, so I gave him a hug, told him I'd see him as he passed me on the bike, and I left. I mosied on down closer to the front. I know I'm not a ubber fast swimmer, but I am a ubber comfortable swimmer, which I think gives me a little more confidence in the open water, in the masses as the average joe. I was a little shocked and how NOT congested the beach line up was. I assumed it'd be like a concert, where you would have to "Excuse me, coming through, excuse me" type crowded. But it wasn't. There was enough room to walk right up the edge of the water if I wanted. Everyone was pretty far spaced out. And spaced out they were. There were athletes lined up on the inside of the buoys all the way down the beach for the ones that wanted to attempt to swim outside of the masses.
Swim: 1:26:20 - 2:16 pace
Before I knew it, the blowhorn went off. I was about 5 seconds from the start. And I jumped right in. Rewind to race morning. My anxiety had my heart rate at 120. I noticed this when I put my bike computer on my bike. My heart was racing with anticipation ALL morning. Back to swim... When I got into the water, I just started swimming. I was surprised, cause normally, it takes a few minutes to get my heart and breathing into a rhythm, but since I started with it high, I had no problems getting into a breathing, comfortability place. The beginning was the washing machine action. It didn't get less crowded until the 3rd buoy. I noticed the water was WAY choppier than the practice swim. I swallowed a ton of lake, and distinctly remember hearing ringing noises in my right ear from the slapping of my head coming down on the water from the swells. A few teammates have stated 3 foot swells. Wow. Luckily, it didn't make me nervous. Everyone was swimming in it, it's not like I was singled out, so I just rolled with it. If anything, I was at an advantage because I was in a good mental place. I kept humming to myself, "Just keep swimming" from Finding Nemo. And I even got a little creative. Adrian told me about a time when he witnessed Brandon swimming and how his stroke was so strong that he actually lifted his body up in the water. So I pretended I was just THAT good of a swimmer. Yes, I know I'm not, but I was in my fairy tale. Just swimming with the swells, enjoying the moment of the swim. I got to swim without being knocked, kicked, pulled or pushed for a few minutes, and then there was the turn buoy. Talk about mass cluster muck. I think 70% of the swimmers thought the turn buoy meant, "Let's invent some new kicks underwater, pick our heads up and just hang out here." Everyone seemed to come to a standstill and it wasn't a nice scene filtering through. Got through it, and the current/swells were the worst for the back half. I made the first loop in 40 minutes. Super happy, but knew that the adrennaline from the first loop was probably the reason for a pretty decent time. Sighting was hard with all the caps in the water, and the swells, it was hard to find the buoys sometimes, which meant I'd swim off course quite a bit. It's not always safe to follow feet, cause not all feet know where they're going. I'm happy with my swim. I was estimating 1:30, so 1:26 was icing on the cake.
T1: 7:43
Something I had NOT practiced and that was changing from wet clothes to dry spandex in a rush. I immediately regretted not swimming in my tri suit and just wearing from start to finish, but soon remembered that I'd be doing this literally ALL day and comfort was the reason. A few extra minutes in transition wasn't going to make or break my day. Little did I know how close I'd be cutting everything, but that's to come. I found a seat towards the end, and was shocked to see I beat a few top T3'ers out of the water :) I got changed as fast as I could and thankfully a volunteer helped with the last half. I was off to the bike... dum da dum dum.
Bike:8:18:52, 13.47mph
Legs felt ok for the start, but I knew it was going to be a long day on the bike and this was going to make or break my IM debut. I decided to not concentrate on what my Garmin showed. No obsessing about my average speed, no obsessing about current speed, just ride what my legs felt, give it what I had and have no regrets. I made it out of town, and the hills. We had driven the course and knew there were lots, but didn't get the full concept until I actually rode it. After we got out there, it seemed like the hills were never ending. Climb, climb, climb. I wanted to take it easy so I wouldn't fry my legs for the 1st loop and be hanging on for dear life for the 2nd, but I also didn't want to take it too easy that I screw myself either. Fine line. I made it through the first loop ok. Nothing really started screwing with my head until we started coming back to town. My nutrition was like clockwork. 15 minutes, eat. Next 15 minutes, drink nutrition. Every 15 minutes, I was eating or drinking. Every two hours, Salt Stick. Time went by and I just dealt with the hills as they came, thinking to myself, "Just one more time around and I'll never have to see this hill again... forever..." Steve caught me on about mile 35, and we talked for two seconds exchanging, "Wow, these hills are tough." And then some "We're doing this, see you later on the run!" On the way back to town, it was flat. But it was longer than I remembered. There was about 10-15 miles to get back and I just remember thinking it took forever. I was also looking for a 1st loop completed sign or something and never saw it, just continued on to my 2nd loop without any noticeable "2nd loop starts here" type of sign. I started to worry. I checked my average pace, and it was 14 point something. I had high confidence going into this that I could average 15 with no problem, and the fact that loop 1, which would assumingly be my fastest, was almost near the cut off average freaked me out. I started the mental roller coaster, but remembered that for every down, there's an up. I went out for my 2nd. Saw a ton of T3'ers. The course was nice, cause it allowed for many out and backs. Yes, the scenery was nice, but it didn't take away the fact that I HAD to make the bike cut off or the last 6 months of my time, energy, heart and soul would be defeated. There were more than 2 hills that I had to stand up on, or else I wasn't moving. These were impossible for me to climb sitting down. My legs were showing signs of fatigue and I started drinking more and I increased my salt intake from 1 every 2 hours to 1 every hour. On a few of the hills, my speed going up them registered as 2.3 mph. No joke. 2.3 mph. The only thing I could think was this was bringing my average mph deathly close to the cut off average. I felt like I was in survival mode. Push, push, push. The next minute, I'd be happy, trying to not stress. The next moment, stress and fear. Then the cooler temps came, then the wind. I screamed out, "You've got to f-ing be kidding me." This was my form of prayer. I had done this on several training rides. Talking to God. I just couldn't believe this. I had a 2 minutes moment where I talked outloud, cause noone was around. It went like this.
Me: "You've got to be F-ing kidding me, right?? You give me choppy water for the swim, and it's pretty nipply out here, and now you're throwing in headwinds when I'm struggling to make a bike cut off. Wow... I can't believe this."
God: replied with headwinds.
I've heard we had 20-25 mile headwinds. The hills; in my opinion, were hard, but it was mentally tough to have the downhills hard, because you were fighting a headwind. I made several sarcastic comments to the volunteers. They'd ask, "Water, gatorade, gel?" and I yelled, "Turn off the fan!!" They just laughed, but I was really irritated. I felt like I had it hard enough to be struggling with hills and extremely slow bike averages, that why in the world did I have to deal with winds too? And then... on those out and backs where I saw my friends, I realized I was now on the other end. I was the one coming back as people were heading out, and I became grateful. Back to be positive. I could do this again. It could be worse, I could be them going out. I pushed as hard as I could and got really anxious when I hit 100. I only had 12 miles to go, but was deathly close to 8 hours. I don't have my Garmin yet to read statistics, but I knew that 8 hours was the cut off, if I had used the entire swim time. Thankfully, I had banked 30-40 minutes from my swim. It made me nervous that I had to dip into that bank. I was pretty confident that my training had gotten me to a place, where I wouldn't have to stress about the cut off, but I was wrong and here I was stressing for 4+ hours of the bike not knowing if I would make it. The ride into town was nice. I could feel myself getting emotional, but knew I wasn't in the clear until I crossed that timing mat. I've had training rides in the past where the last 5-10 miles, my legs are so shot that I literally couldn't average over 8mph on flat roads. I did the math, and figured out I had to average at least 11mph to make it in time. This gave me a boast, and I was at around 15 for the way back. I saw Dee, Sabrina, Sam, and Amber cheering for me and that started the tears. I even have an ugly cry pic of my on the bike. I got to the volunteers at the timing mat, I dismounted and I asked, "Did I make it??" and this lone guy said, "Yes!" I asked again, "Are you serious, I really made it?" and he said yes again, and I started crying. Not a tear here rolling down, I'm so proud of myself cry. This was a full on, tears streaming, holy crap, I did it let out cry. I cried for the entire walk to get my bag and in the changing tent. I quickly found an empty seat and just sat there for a full 60 seconds and cried. A volunteer came up and asked if I was ok, and I was so choked up I had to catch my breath and I told her not to worry, these were happy tears. She helped me change and get into my running clothes. I made it.
T2: 7:51
I probably could have cut off 2-3 minutes because of the cry. But I didn't care. My biggest fear was behind me. If I didn't want to touch my bike ever again, I didn't have to. I will, but I know have the option.
Run:6:25:45 - 14:43/mile
It pains me to type that. But back to the report. I came out of the changing tent to Dee, Sabrina, Sam, and Amber cheering for me. Still a little choked up, I went out to the run. I felt on fire. Garmin showed 9:00 min mile pace. I knew this wouldn't last long but figured I'd hang on as long as I could. This lasted for 2-3 minutes, and I caught a huge side stitch that made me walk. I went for a Salt Stick and remembered that I was so caught up in my crying in the tent, I forgot to take the SaltSticks from my bike jersey to my tri top. CRAP. I got nervous, but figured the aide stations would have some. I walked for a good 4-6 minutes, elongated my chest, took deep breaths to get rid of my cramp. I immediately thought I was under electrolyted and got nervous. I was even more nervous, because at both aide stations, they had no electorlyte pills at all. I figured I'd drink more and eat more to compensate. Tried to blow it off. The run slowed down and I decided I wasn't going to stare at my Garmin. So I took it off, and put it in my back pocket. It beeped at the mile, but it wasn't staring me in the face with my slow paces. I had big goals of running a 5:00 marathon. I ate 12 humble pies on Sunday. My goals were too much. Yes, I ran the long 18, 20, 22 miles long runs this pace after 80, 90, and 100 mile rides, but my legs had 20 hours of rest in between. Today, they had 7:51 seconds to recover from the longest ride I've ever done, 112. I figured, "Anyone can walk an 8 hour marathon. This is a piece of cake." I didn't realize it was a piece of humble, I'm not sure I can do this, I might not make it to the FINAL cut off, piece of pie! The first 13 were long... and slow. The 2nd lap felt even more daunting than the 2nd bike loop. I got to see all my T3 buds, BUT they were ALL on their 2nd lap and I was on my first. I saw Dee and friends at close to the turnaround. Also saw Steve a few minutes before. Each time we saw each other, we stopped to hug and said, "I can't believe we're doing this today. Good job, I'll catch you pretty soon." I also really intended on passing people during the run, meaning my T3 teammates. This didn't happen until the end.... very end. And when it did, it was survival mode. More on that later.
I started the second loop still pretty confident, but a disappointed at how deathly slow I was "running". It took me almost 3 hours to run 13 miles. Insane and a big blow to my "running" ego. I would walk here and there, but just couldn't stomach that I was walking and would start running again. I ran 95% of the entire marathon, now the pace is a different story, but I was doing one form or another of running. Whether it be running, jogging, or shuffling, I wasn't walking. Not that walking is bad, but I'm a SLOOOOOOW walker. When I walk, I walk. I noticed my paces were dropping as the night went on, and realized that when I was stopping to walk, it was considerably slower than my slow "running" pace. For instance, my last 4 miles were a 20 min mile pace. Yes, it is possible to pass people while running a 20 min mile pace. I didn't think it was humanly possible to do this, until Sunday. I shuffled an entire marathon. I had 4 hours to complete 13 hours. Still seemed like a piece of cake, but as the miles slowly, and I mean slowly went by, the time kept creeping with it. Before I knew it, I had 6 miles to go and only 1:45 to get to the finish. And this was 1 hour and 45 minutes to made the FINAL, you're an Ironman cut off. Never in all this training, did I ever think to myself that I wouldn't be able to run the marathon fast enough to make the FINAL cutoff if I made the bike cutoff. In the final, dark, literally dark hours, this fear became a reality. I ate and drank a ton, and my potty stops showed. I must have used the restroom 8-10 times during my marathon. Just urinating, but full blown, full bladder pees. In these last 6 miles, I realized it was my body not holding onto the liquids, hence me not having any electrolyte pills with me. My hands were frozen and they were already starting the tingly, crampy (retarded looking) hands that were reminiscent of my Galveston medical tent trip. At mile 16, I committed myself to NO more walking, unless it was the hill at the end of Coeur d'Alene lake. I shuffled from mile 16 on. I was in survival mode. If I stopped, I feared that I was pass out from the lack of electrolytes and the cramping I could feel coming on. Galveston was in my mind, and that frightened me. To come this far, and not make it for a stupid mistake of not packing two separate bags of Salt Sticks. I should have done one for each bag, instead of trying to remember. I didn't realize how much of a blur things would be in the moment. So I shuffled, and shuffled. I had a ton of thoughts in my head. Here are a few:
- I'm soooo that lone runner... in the dark... during all those Ironman videos that I always thought to myself, there's no way I'd be them. And was.
-I can't believe I made it this far and it's sooooo hard to get my legs to turnover.
-I can't believe I can't excel in the one sport that I thought I had in the bag.
-Pain is temporary, not making the cut off is forever.
-(I'm not going to lie) I was super sad that I thought I'd be disappointing Adrian with my near cut off time performance.
-I do enjoy glowsticks in the dark.
-Running in the dark, with no light, is fun. I thought of Meredith/Mike on their running adventure when they were training for a trail race.
-Timing mats were embarrasing me cause of how slow I had progressed all day.
-Could the weather get any worse?
The marathon had rain 90% of the time I was out there. I was freezing cold and would wrap in a mylar blanket, then get hot and shed it. Then get another mylar blanket, then shed it. I got my use out of the course, the volunteers and later the medical tent.
The last few miles of the marathon were grueling. I couldn't stop for fear that the cramping, tingling would ensue. It was happening in my hands already, and my right calf felt like it was going to Johnny Horse any minute. In the last 2 miles, my stomach started cramping. I drank cold.. yes, cold chicken broth at the last of the aide stations. It was gross cold, but I forced it down thinking the salt would help subside the cramping/tingling so I could finish.
The last half mile, Sabrina met me and walked as I was "running". We bantered back and forth, I joked with the last volunteer that finally told me truth about "You're almost done." I heard this phrase repeatedly throughout the day, and near the end, I started correcting them. "I'm not almost done, I have a marathon to go. Or I'm not almost done, I still have 56 miles on the bike AND a marathon. Or I'm not almost done, would you like to run the last 16 I have to go if you think I'm almost done??? Ok, I only used one of those phrases, but I sure thought all of those in my head. The last 3 miles, once I turned into the neighborhood were crazy lonely. There was one guy ahead of me and I caught him, but later let him pass. I didn't want to cross the finish line with a guy 5 feet behind me. Then it all clicked that I had 40 minutes to get there, and I was in fact going to cross the finish line as an Ironman. Wow. So as I was running down the final street, about 10 people came running by. Where were these people when I was alone for the last 4 miles?????? I turned around at least 4 times to tell them to have a great finish, cause I wanted the line to myself whenever I got there. The finish happened fast, in memory, not in speed. By then, my legs were just thumping one over the other. There was no running to my form, other that I wasn't locking out my hips as you do in walking. My arms were barely moving, and I was at a slow death shuffle. The final stretch I started crying. Everyone had their hands out, and all I could do was put my cramped up hand up against theirs. I couldn't stop moving forward, cause I knew my body was about to react. My face was starting to tingle amongst the tears, and I think my body just went into overload in those last 20 feet. I slapped as many hands and I could, tried to raise my arms up as high as I could, and I crossed. I did it, and I cried. 10 seconds after I said, "I need a small" for the finishers shirt, my entire face went into the tingly, locked up sensation, hands were in full cramp, and I was starting to black out. One of the volunteers grabbed me, then another, and I told them I needed medical before I blacked out. She didn't believe me, so I leaned on her, and that got her attention. My body went to the max, as I did in Galveston.
Final Time: 16:25:45
Med Tent: My body did the same exact thing it did in Galveston. My entire body tingled, my hands cramped up, and my entire face cramped so much that I could not open my mouth, nor stick out my tongue. Doc said I was hyperventilating, a tad bit hyperthermic, but they couldn't get my temperature cause they could not open my mouth, it was locked. They questioned me a ton, and I answered with mumbles and headshakes. They were the sweetest. An IV, plenty of hot blankets, and lots of care, I was the last person in the medical tent to leave. I heard Mike Reilly countdown from 5 to 17 hours, and my heart fell for the ones that didn't make the cut off that were still on the course. About an hour in the tent, I finally regained feeling.
I did it.
What I learned:
-Adrian was proud of me, no matter what my time was.
-I do still, after a days rest, DO NOT WANT TO DO ANOTHER IRONMAN.
-I think it's funny that my first Ironman happened to land on the one CdA Ironman that had the worst weather in IMCDA history, but I survived it.
-I have a new respect, that's even newer than the original respect I had for this distance and for the athletes that continue to amaze me by doing this more than once.
-I wish I had trained for another year at Olympics and Half IM's before attempting a full.
-Everything considered, I'm glad this is over with. I feel like a huge boulder has been removed from my shoulders.
-I don't think it's sunk in that I can be considered an Ironman yet...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
FOMO - no more...
Just a brief update on my mental status. I'm proud to announce that I no longer have any cases of FOMO :) FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) is what got me to sign up for this crazy Ironman in the first place. No regrets though. I've learned so much more about myself through this 6 month process than I ever have while doing marathons, which is where I still feel my heart lies. Everyone on the T3 forum is planning their 2010 IM plans and it's not making me think twice about NOT signing up for another one. I feel like I have too much on my plate. This IM has drained me financially and my next major goal is to qualify for Boston. I'm going to concentrate on losing a few more pounds, getting more tone and lean, and building a core. I sound like a broken record, but I know I'll go faster if I can ever figure out what's going on in my head mentally with food.
I have a new respect for Ironman triathletes. I can't imagine doing another one next year. I'm not saying I don't ever want to, but I need to make sure I'm financially stable to do another one, because the costs of this one blindsided me. I also need to make sure I have a good feel for my job. We made a huge transistion last year, and we're finally getting on our feet. One more year, and I think I'll have a better grasp of my producers book of business and can better manage my time with training. Maybe 2011.. but Boston is first, and however long that takes me :)
A few weeks ago, I would have thought, "If the Ironman were tomorrow, I'd blow it out of the water." Last night, all my tapering fears are starting to set in. I went to swim workout last night, and was barely going. I was trying, and I was breathing like I was swimming all out, but my times were deathly slow. I did Cap Tex at a 1:47 pace, and last night I could only swim a 1:58.. for just 100 meters, in a freaking pool??? I sure hope this all changes on raceday because it thouroughly has me freaked out. I feel like I've neglected my running too much to focus on my cycling that I might have to crawl through the marathon. Sunday's 7 miles felt like forever, a marathon that day would have seemed impossible. 30 miles on Saturday on the bike felt ok, but the thought of going to 112 seemed insane. And then putting all three together?????
I know it's the taper, but I hate this freaking out mode I'm in. I feel full of anxiety, I can't wait to get to CdA to relax and hopefully find my MoJo :)
4 days and counting... wow.
I have a new respect for Ironman triathletes. I can't imagine doing another one next year. I'm not saying I don't ever want to, but I need to make sure I'm financially stable to do another one, because the costs of this one blindsided me. I also need to make sure I have a good feel for my job. We made a huge transistion last year, and we're finally getting on our feet. One more year, and I think I'll have a better grasp of my producers book of business and can better manage my time with training. Maybe 2011.. but Boston is first, and however long that takes me :)
A few weeks ago, I would have thought, "If the Ironman were tomorrow, I'd blow it out of the water." Last night, all my tapering fears are starting to set in. I went to swim workout last night, and was barely going. I was trying, and I was breathing like I was swimming all out, but my times were deathly slow. I did Cap Tex at a 1:47 pace, and last night I could only swim a 1:58.. for just 100 meters, in a freaking pool??? I sure hope this all changes on raceday because it thouroughly has me freaked out. I feel like I've neglected my running too much to focus on my cycling that I might have to crawl through the marathon. Sunday's 7 miles felt like forever, a marathon that day would have seemed impossible. 30 miles on Saturday on the bike felt ok, but the thought of going to 112 seemed insane. And then putting all three together?????
I know it's the taper, but I hate this freaking out mode I'm in. I feel full of anxiety, I can't wait to get to CdA to relax and hopefully find my MoJo :)
4 days and counting... wow.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Poker Update
Last Wednesday, 1st place out of 30 - $310 :)
Last night, 2nd place out of 12 - $110...
I think my comeback has been announced. I might just play next Wednesday as a last hoorah night before leaving to CdA...
Last night, 2nd place out of 12 - $110...
I think my comeback has been announced. I might just play next Wednesday as a last hoorah night before leaving to CdA...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Poke Her... Poker :)
I'm bored. Should be off work, but I'm playing poker tonight. Yep, I'm blogging about poker and not triathlons. I got to play last Wednesday and took it down, 30 guys. It was awesome. I got my first hand, hit the flop and my heart started racing, hands started shaking and had to take a few deep breaths while trying to look cool. People started going out, then all of a sudden I was at the final table, then I was in the money, then I was heads-up. $310, not too shabby.
Game starts at 7pm, can't wait.
Game starts at 7pm, can't wait.
Friday, June 5, 2009
I've come sooo far...
I spent lunch IM'ing with a coworker whose cubicle is about 10 feet away, haha :) I sent her various You Tube Ironman clips, including my favorite here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bh1yMnrby3w
She started saying how she could never do this. She can't swim, she can't run, she can't bike that long. And I started thinking. Back in 2000, my best friend and I decided we wanted to start exercising to lose weight for an Arizona trip we had planned to visit one of her friends. We'd meet at the DPS on Lamar and walk around the track there. This was also back when I used to smoke. Yes, I was awful. I'd light up after workouts sometimes cause I was a vehicular smoker. Once in the car, always had to have a cigarette in hand. This went on for awhile. Slowly but surely we'd walk one lap, then two, then three. Then we started "running" probably more of a shuffle. Same thing, let's try one lap, two laps, three.
One of her co-workers, Rolando was doing the Flamingo 5k and she registered, but I was too intimidated. I just showed up hesitant. I thought only "elite" athletes registered and did these races. We jogged, walked and did what we had to do to finish. I didn't cross the line, but it was cool seeing that "normal" people did this. After that, we committed to training for the Cap 10k. We both did that April 1, 2001.
Cap 10k - 1:21:30, 13:06 pace. I ran the whole way, isn't that funny?
I can't remember what I did after. I don't have any race results from 2001 to 2004. 2004, I started back up. I remember my goal was to run a 10:00 min mile. Just one. I started running with the free Runtex classes after work up at the Gateway Runtex. Bruno was the manager there, he now works for Nike. I was the slowest one, but I was doing it. I met Leslie in one of the classes. We became friends and she asked me to be on her running team. I remember immediately telling her, "Oh no.. I'm not elite." I don't know what it is with my mindset of setting limitations on myself cause I'm not "elite". She told me you didn't have to be elite. She wanted me to go home and browse this website.
http://www.teamjustin.com/
They were raising awareness for ALS also known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. I cried watching the interview between him and his girlfriend when they were asked about their future. They knew he only had a short amount of time, yet they made the most of it. She loved him no matter what and vice versa. At the next practice, I told her I'd attempt... ATTEMPT the Distance Challenge. If I didn't make it, I tried, but I wanted to be part of her team because it was such a great cause. I had the greatest opportunity in meeting Justin at one of the fundraisers. What a great guy. He was smiling, drinking and having a great time. Leslie and I ran our long runs at Town Lake, loop after loop after loop. This is part of the reason why I dislike running on the trail with multiple loops. I've been there and done that!
Feb 2005, I completed my first marathon in Austin. My parents, best friend, and several others came out to cheer me on. I continued with marathons, found Rogue. Got curious about triathlons and did Danskin after in 2006, the weekend after I ran my 2nd marathon in San Diego. The rest is history. Wondering if I could do the next distance has gotten me to where I am today.
15 days, and I'll be an Ironman. I'm complete the distance of all distances. I've come along way from smoking cigarettes and walking 1 mile loops back in 2000.
If I can do it, anyone can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bh1yMnrby3w
She started saying how she could never do this. She can't swim, she can't run, she can't bike that long. And I started thinking. Back in 2000, my best friend and I decided we wanted to start exercising to lose weight for an Arizona trip we had planned to visit one of her friends. We'd meet at the DPS on Lamar and walk around the track there. This was also back when I used to smoke. Yes, I was awful. I'd light up after workouts sometimes cause I was a vehicular smoker. Once in the car, always had to have a cigarette in hand. This went on for awhile. Slowly but surely we'd walk one lap, then two, then three. Then we started "running" probably more of a shuffle. Same thing, let's try one lap, two laps, three.
One of her co-workers, Rolando was doing the Flamingo 5k and she registered, but I was too intimidated. I just showed up hesitant. I thought only "elite" athletes registered and did these races. We jogged, walked and did what we had to do to finish. I didn't cross the line, but it was cool seeing that "normal" people did this. After that, we committed to training for the Cap 10k. We both did that April 1, 2001.
Cap 10k - 1:21:30, 13:06 pace. I ran the whole way, isn't that funny?
I can't remember what I did after. I don't have any race results from 2001 to 2004. 2004, I started back up. I remember my goal was to run a 10:00 min mile. Just one. I started running with the free Runtex classes after work up at the Gateway Runtex. Bruno was the manager there, he now works for Nike. I was the slowest one, but I was doing it. I met Leslie in one of the classes. We became friends and she asked me to be on her running team. I remember immediately telling her, "Oh no.. I'm not elite." I don't know what it is with my mindset of setting limitations on myself cause I'm not "elite". She told me you didn't have to be elite. She wanted me to go home and browse this website.
http://www.teamjustin.com/
They were raising awareness for ALS also known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. I cried watching the interview between him and his girlfriend when they were asked about their future. They knew he only had a short amount of time, yet they made the most of it. She loved him no matter what and vice versa. At the next practice, I told her I'd attempt... ATTEMPT the Distance Challenge. If I didn't make it, I tried, but I wanted to be part of her team because it was such a great cause. I had the greatest opportunity in meeting Justin at one of the fundraisers. What a great guy. He was smiling, drinking and having a great time. Leslie and I ran our long runs at Town Lake, loop after loop after loop. This is part of the reason why I dislike running on the trail with multiple loops. I've been there and done that!
Feb 2005, I completed my first marathon in Austin. My parents, best friend, and several others came out to cheer me on. I continued with marathons, found Rogue. Got curious about triathlons and did Danskin after in 2006, the weekend after I ran my 2nd marathon in San Diego. The rest is history. Wondering if I could do the next distance has gotten me to where I am today.
15 days, and I'll be an Ironman. I'm complete the distance of all distances. I've come along way from smoking cigarettes and walking 1 mile loops back in 2000.
If I can do it, anyone can.
Flickr Account
I finally got around to setting up a Flickr account since Kodak just ditched all my photos I had been storing for ump-teen years.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/adrianandpriscilla/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/adrianandpriscilla/
Thursday, June 4, 2009
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