Race Report: Augusta 70.3

This is another delayed race report, the details long faded into the irretrievable depths of my overfilled memory.  Only the highlights (long-winded as they are) are easily accessible.  I suppose that's a good thing - too many awesome memories taking up space.

The main purpose of this race was as a tune-up before Ironman Arizona.  Two guys from my company, also doing Arizona, talked me into it.  Being 8 weeks out, the timing was perfect.  But being located in the southeastern portion of the country, while I reside in the northwest, was a tad less than ideal.  Since my registration-happy trigger finger doesn't know the difference, we made the trek to Georgia a few weekends back.

After a semi-stressful packing of the bike into the bike box, we loaded up, and made our way through 12 hours of airport travel.  My procrastination in purchasing plane tickets resulted in some hefty fares, as well as a random route and lengthy layovers.  We ended up in Atlanta, stayed the night there, and then finished up the trip with a 3 hour drive to Augusta the next morning.  Pre-race day was packed full of standing in line, tracking down CO2 cartridges (can't take those on the plane), driving the course, and navigating the crowded town.  I think it was the most exhausting pre-race day I've had to date.  By 9:30pm we were finally checked into the hotel, bellies full, and settling in for a well-earned night of rest.

Pre-race:

After a restless sleep, the alarm sounded around 5am.  I don't know if I'll ever get used to that.  Shower, eat, hydrate, and load up to head to transition.  Every single race in the last 5 years has been cold at the start.  So out of habit I dressed in long pants over my tri shorts, a jacket over my tri top, and a knit hat.  I even had gloves packed in my tri bag.  And arm warmers for the bike.  And sweats for post-race.  Hot cup of coffee gripped between my hand, we stepped out of the hotel... 70 degrees.  80% humidity.  And only 6am.  That probably tells you how equipped I was to deal with the impending heat facing us that day.

The logistics of Augusta are challenging, and frankly, quite annoying.  Especially when you are of the mindset to get in, do what you came for, get out, go home.  This venue is the largest Half Ironman on the circuit, with over 3000 athletes.  The swim is down-current, and while that makes for some really fast swim splits, it means that the start line and transition are a mile apart.  So add in shuttle buses and confused spectators to the huge quantity of people and small town roads.  They do a decent job managing the chaos, but there seemed to be a background noise of frustration for me the entire weekend.

Swim:

I'll skip through all the admin stuff of the morning.  After watching all 21 other waves go before me, it was finally time for my age group to file into the water.  I jumped off the dock cannon-ball style (would you expect anything less?) and swam up towards the front of the group.  A few people back, smack in the middle.  I like to be all up in the business for the swim start.

The horn blew, I swam, I finished.  Nothing really interesting happened in between.  The quality of the Savannah river leaves a lot to be desired, but it was down current and wicked fast.  And I didn't get eaten by alligators.

T1:

If you're new to this blog, you should know that of all the triathlon events, I don't mess around in transition.  I take my T1 and T2 times very seriously.  It might not be the most glamorous of the events, and certainly not one that is going to get me on the podium, but I take pride in it nonetheless.  The Augusta swim-to-bike transition includes a run up a steep hill out of the water, a long run around the transition area, and then through the other side.  It's long, but it's also carpeted and grassy and well stocked with porta-potties (should you need them).  They also had wet suit strippers.  Everything went well for me here.

Bike:

The bike course is described as "a one-loop, hilly bike course through Georgia and into South Carolina".  It wasn't exactly flat, but it wasn't necessarily hilly either.  One thing it DEFINITELY wasn't?  Cold.  I swear, it felt like I had a hot, wet blanket over my head the entire day.  I stuck to my plan, managed my pace, kept on top of my nutrition and hydration plan, and sucked down the salt tabs like candy.  I came into T2 feeling like I nailed the bike, but I was very much overheated.

T2:

Nothing special to report here either.  Rack bike, helmet off, socks on, shoes on, grab everything else and get the heck out of there.

Run:

By now it was close to 90 degrees and 90% humidity.  I was told by other athletes that this was mild weather and I'm lucky it wasn't hot this year.  I tip my visor to you folks.  I don't know how you train/race in that climate.  Unless we move to that region, I think this is my last time signing up for a race in the southeast.  Do you hear that, Mr. Pointer Finger???

But back to the run.  The first half was a suffer-fest.  My method was to run the sunny sections and walk through the shade to maximize my time out of the sun.  Those streets are lined with trees, but in the middle of the day there isn't much shade.  Only hundreds of 3-4' sections of shade.  So I would "run" for about 30 seconds and then walk for 3 seconds over and over again.  No doubt this annoyed the hell out of everyone around me.  And while it wasn't the fastest way to get from point A to point B, it still got me to point B.  I guzzled water at each aid station, stuffed sponges under my bra straps, and dumped ice into my sports bra and down my shorts.  I knew that calories weren't going to stay down, so took coke and Perform when I could.  Want to know how to cool off quickly?  Smoosh about 5 ice cubes against your bits.

And then the most glorious thing happened.  Thunder and lightning rolled in.  And it started RAINING!  With the drop in temperature and constant cool moisture hitting my body, I was able to start running again and didn't stop until I crossed the finish line.  I ended up with a decent negative split and finished strong.

Post-race:

After navigating back through the chaos to pack-up and get out of town, we made the drive back to Atlanta.  And the next morning repeated the process of connections and layovers to get back to Portland.  Overall, this is a great venue and good course.  It fit the bill for what I needed, and while the weekend was certainly better than I expected it to be, I'm not sure I would sign up for it again.  We really are spoiled out here in the west.  Sometimes you just need a little reminder to appreciate what you have.

Swim - 0:31:33 (1:40/100m)

T1 - 0:03:47

Bike - 3:17:53 (16.98 mph)

T2 - 0:02:00

Run - 2:58:08 (13:36/mi)

TOTAL = 6:53:21

2011 Hood-to-Coast

Far too much time has passed to write a race report that details all of the awesomeness of this year's Hood-to-Coast.  But since the primary purpose of this blog is to capture the athletic side of my life so that I can look back on where I've been, things I've accomplished, and lessons learned, I'm going to memorialize it anyway.  The most important thing to remember from 2011 is how much FUN we had.  I need to remind myself of that next year when all of the planning and hassle inevitably leaves me thinking "I'm never doing this again."

We really had the perfect mix of people.  The right amount of crazy, responsibility, teamwork, and personalities.  We had some difficult adversities to face (thunderstorm, outrageously hot weather, broken down van, record traffic issues, etc.) but still managed to end up in Seaside with sore cheeks from ridiculous amounts of laughing.  And after more than 30 hours of no sleep, we still managed to rally for another 12 hours of post-race festivities.  Which, of course, were just as fun as the relay itself, but perhaps not suitable for this audience.

4:15am race start at Timberline on Mt. Hood.

One of the Van1 windows.  Inside joke.

No explanation needed.

Note the strategically placed door seam.  The runners of this van also had authentic molester-staches.  And cutoff jean shorts.

Coming in from my 2nd leg.  Way overheated.

For posterity, my run data from my Garmin:

Run 1 (leg 4) - 7.22 miles, 1:16:10, 10:33/mi pace

Flat/slightly downhill, easy even though a bit long, sun just coming up, really awesome.

Run 2 (leg 16) - 4.50 miles, 58:03, 12:54/mi pace

Mostly flat, super hot, horrible horrible hydration and electrolyte planning, suckage.

Run 3 (leg 28) - 4.05 miles, 46:02, 11:22/mi pace

Better than leg 2 hands down, mostly unmemorable, beautiful scenery but it was pitch black.

Checking In

Wow, that was a long and unintentional hiatus from blog land.  A peek into what has contributed to the radio silence:

• A full summer/fall race schedule, including Hood-to-Coast Relay, Augusta Half Ironman (including a trip back east), and Girlfriends Half Marathon.  Race reports coming soon.  Or just sometime in the future.  I shouldn't promise "soon".
• After a short recovery period following Ironman Coeur d'Alene, training has ramped up for Ironman Arizona (only about 40 days away!) and is in the middle of the peak phase.  It's truly kicking my ass this go round, despite the slightly lower volume.
• Work never really slowed down, as it is expected to do each summer.  So toss a handful of 60-70 hour work weeks into the mix.
• We moved.  Because those 1-2 hours of spare time each week were just begging to be soaked up in some chaos.   And then of course I have to organize and redecorate.  You know, recover all 8 dining room chairs, a completely new guest bedroom and living room decor, kitchen appliances, etc.  Free time just doesn't stand a chance at all around here.
• We went to the Oregon Coast for a weekend to celebrate our 2nd year anniversary.  Which sadly for my husband included a long bike ride and then leaving early so that I could get me long run in before the end of the weekend.
• The "Big Boobie Challenge" is going strong, and I'm gathering some awesome data and reviews to share with the masses.  Hopefully we'll all have happier boobies as a result.

More to come...

 
 

Those Pesky RBCs

Rood blood cells.  Who else has a tough time keeping these little suckers from escaping your body?  What are your tricks and tips?

Ever since I took up endurance sports, I have struggled with being anemic.  The cycle looks something like this: train my ass off for a few weeks, start getting really cranky, fall asleep in inappropriate places such as the bathroom and work meetings, isolate myself from the world because I'm so incredibly tired, start getting dizzy at odd times, and then the lightbulb goes off.  Then I start taking ridiculous amounts of iron supplements, multi-vitamins, and inhale red meat like a proper cavewoman.  The side effects of the extra iron are unpleasant, so as soon as I start feeling better, I quit taking them.  Rinse and repeat.

This isn't working for me.  So, interwebs, whatcha got for me?

Sunday Snapshots

Time for a weekly photo upload to clean out the phone.

1) Florida sunrise from my hotel a couple of weeks ago.

2) Long run last Saturday through industrial downtown Vancouver.
3) Long ride last Sunday - the view from Women's Forum in the Columbia River Gorge.



4) Sunset at Pearson Air Field during a mid-week run.  It's awesome to watch small planes like Cessnas buzz just overhead for the landings.

5) The pool where I pretend to swim.

6)  Me hiding dirty Ironman-training hair, and getting ready for some "fake golf" at Edgefield.

7) Ken looking for his errant golf ball in the bushes.
8) Julie and I bored with fake golf.



9) Long ride this week - the view from Crown Point. We're pretty lucky here in the Pacific NW!

The Big Boobie Challenge

Sorry guys, this post is for the ladies.  The challenge is on.  I need a new sports bra.  I have only one single style that works, and I'm ready for something new.  The problem is that I have some pretty big girls, and taming them is no easy task.  So here's the deal.  I'm going to do all the hard work for y'all.  I'm going to thoroughly test up to 10 different styles of high intensity sports bras and post in-depth reviews here.  But I need your help.  Send me suggestions - bras you loved, bras you hate, and maybe some that you've been dying to try but for whatever reason haven't done so yet.  Either post in the comments section, or send an email to sarahdbryant@gmail.com.

The criteria...bras must be:

* Designed for high intensity.

* Made in larger sizes.  I'm a 34DD, so if it only goes up to a D, it's a no go.  Specific bra sizes are preferable to S-L type sizing.

* Be made out of synthetic material.  I'll be swimming/biking/running in this thing, upwards of 17 hours at a time, and wet cotton won't mix well with that kind of activity.

* Any style will do.  Straight straps, racer back, under wire, soft cups, etc.  All styles welcome!

The categories:

* Comfort.  Number 1 priority.

* Overall support and fit.  Bounce control.  Smooshing.   Chaffing.  Lift and separation.  You get the idea.

* Wicking and breathability.  See category above regarding chaffing.

* Durability.  This might be hard to evaluate with only a few wearings, but sometimes it's obvious.

* Style.  For those of you brave enough to go topless and actually care what this thing looks like.  I don't.  But you might.

* Value.  When you go through 7-10 sports bras per week, money is certainly a concern.

Open Water Fear...I Get It Now

For as long as I can remember, I have had a crazy love for the water.  I learned how to swim in the bay off the Washington Coast.  Many of my childhood memories are of diving into campground pools, jumping off docks at local lakes, or getting tossed in the ocean waves on both coasts.  Even as an adult, I LOVE LOVE LOVE to play in the water.  I'm not a huge fan of grinding out difficult sets at the lap pool.  But put me in some open water and I'm a happy girl.

A lot of my triathlon friends have struggled with the fear of being in open water.  I never really understood those emotions, but I'm sympathetic to them.  But not being able to relate, it makes it difficult to help.

This past week I was visiting the St. Augustine area for business, which is right on the eastern coast of Florida.  One night after work I headed into the Atlantic Ocean for an hour workout.  While I'm fairly comfortable in the open ocean, it is a little unnerving to be swimming solo in unfamiliar waters.  Especially since it was approaching dusk, and somewhere in my life I heard that is when the sharks feed.  Sounds reasonable I guess.  It also happened to be Shark Week on Discovery Channel, and we all know that's when they come out and patrol the crowded beaches looking for their next meal!

Note: I usually would not endorse solo swimming of any kind in open water.  Especially the ocean, where conditions are not necessarily obvious to us above water.  However, the beach was lined with many people, including life guards.  And since I was the only dork wearing a cap/goggles/functional swimsuit, I had a lot of eyes on me.  I was also swimming parallel to the shore.

The Florida shores are fairly shallow, so I had to go out a ways to reach water that was deep enough for consistent swimming.  I start swimming laps parallel to shore, trying not to think about what might be lurking a few feet away in the opaque water.  Then suddenly I saw a splash just off my left side in slightly deeper water.  Gah!  What was that?!?  I keep swimming, breathing to that side to keep an eye on the water.  SPLASH again!  And then SPLASH, SPLASH, SPLASH.  Dozens of fish were jumping out of the water.  Some inches from my face.  Some were even TOUCHING me!  I try not to go into full freak-out mode, but I'm thinking "Why are they jumping?  Are they running from a shark?"  My heart starts racing and my mind is running out of control.  "What are these things?  Piranhas?  Am I going to get gnawed on?"  Don't judge.  Once panic sets in, the mind just isn't very rational.

I stop swimming, pop off my goggles and look around. No one else seems concerned. They are all just standing and staring at the flying fish.  If the locals are cool with it, then I must be good to go.  I side step a bit closer to shore and resume swimming.  But now I'm swimming with my eyes open underwater, because if I'm going to become someones dinner, I want to see it coming.  Besides, maybe I can punch it in the nose like they do in the cartoon's.  Again, the mind isn't reasonable when you're scared.  I'm starting to get a bit nauseous from staring at the moving sand, but it's worth it.  I've gotta be able to fight that shark.  And then UP comes the pre-workout banana.   Yuck, but wow I feel better.   However, I've now chummed the water for Mr. Shark and all of his buddies.  I've gotta get out of here fast.

So I'm swimming along, alternating my breathing, focusing on form.  Wow, I'm really going fast.  I rule!  I breath towards shore to the right and the buildings don't really look familiar anymore.  I stop swimming and I'm still hauling ass down shore.  Oh dang, I've landed myself in a rip current.  I stand up. Because, remember, I'm in Florida and even though I'm a hundred meters off-shore, I can still touch the ground.  I turn around and start swimming back up.  No progress.  I try just walking through the water.  Ugh, that's hard.  Light bulb!  I'll practice my dolphin diving!  So I start diving down and launching myself up out of the water.  Over and over again.  I'm getting somewhere now.  But so is my stomach.  Again.  I finally get to a point where the rip isn't as strong and I can resume swimming.  I finish off the workout and haul my battered ego out of the water.  Vowing never to swim in the ocean during shark week again.

Sale Alert: Patagonia (30% Off)

While the twice-a-year Patagonia sales aren't nearly what they used to be, you can still score some killer deals.  Their gear isn't specifically triathlon related, but I've found some cute running skirts, base layers for winter, socks, etc.  There are limitless options for your non-triathlon money-sucking outdoor hobbies, or if you just want to look cute sipping that cup of coffee on the patio.

www.patagonia.com

Sale link: http://www.patagonia.com/us/shop/web-specials?k=ga

The 30% off sale is only valid through July 27th.  So yeah, I'm a bit late posting this, but there are still some goodies left.  Go check it out.  Seriously, go there.  Now.

A handful of my favorites currently in stock (click on the pic to go to the item):

P.S. They often have web specials with similar (or better) deals long after the big sales.

Recovery Drink

As I have eluded to in previous posts, I'm giving the whole Paleo Diet thing a shot.  Which makes getting in enough protein somewhat of a challenge, since I can't have anything dairy-based.  Enter in...egg white protein powder.  Find it in your local whole food store, or whole foods section with all of the supplements.

I swear this concoction tastes almost like an Orange Julius.  Remember that sugary goodness from the 90s?  I have no idea if they are still around, but mmmmm.  The secret to the yumminess is to use frozen bananas instead of ice.  So you know those half-rotting bananas you have laying around, that you keep intending to make banana bread with, but never get around to it?  Peel em and freeze em!  I keep a huge ziplock of them in my freezer.  And another huge ziplock of pre-sliced, pre-peeled oranges.  The other secret is to use coconut water or coconut milk instead of water if you need to thin it out a bit.  Or 100% fruit juice like pineapple.

Ingredients:
protein powder
frozen nanners
fresh or frozen orange slices (peeled, obviously)
any other fruit you have around (blueberries, strawberries, even watermelon)
fruit juice, coco water, or coco milk

Blend to your desired consistency and enjoy!  Sassy red nails are optional.

The Weekly Un-Update

No more weekly updates for awhile.  I'm always late posting them anyway.  And honestly, there's not a whole lot of excitement going on with my workouts right now.  I had a few weeks of recovery, gluttony, and weight gain.  Now it's back to base training and building back up for Round 2.

So...I'm going to focus more on gear reviews, nutrition ideas, and addressing issues that us average age groupers and back-of-packers face throughout training and racing.  No topic is off-limits for me, so if you have any questions or ideas - send an email to sarahdbryant@gmail.com.

I'm also working on a blog over-haul.  A spring cleaning of sorts.  Hey, it's summer here, but the weather clearly is still very spring-like.  But I'm not very tech-savvy when it comes to this internets thing.  Got ideas or want to use your skillz to help me?  Send an email to the address above!

Weekly Recap: Recovery

I thoroughly enjoyed my post-Ironman recovery week.  The 4 extra pounds on the scale is proof.  But what a fabulous week it was!

Mon - My Mom woke up and headed down the Ironman village to stand in line for the merchandise tent.  Bless her heart, she let me sleep in a bit.  At 6:30am I woke up in a panic, thinking we were going to end up at the back of the line.  Thanks Mom!  We spent the rest of the day drinking coffee, playing board games, taking Ken to the airport, and getting things packed up for the drive home.

Tue - Up early to take JoshyPoo to the airport and then the 6+ hour drive home.  Mom took the second half of the drive while I passed in and out of consciousness.  Once home, it was all about unpacking, laundry, and getting things settled for the week ahead.  Oh, and a short spin on the bike for the first time after the race.

Wed - Work and then happy hour with a coworker.  Some hobbling around while dealing with these nasty, funky post-Ironman feet.

Thu - Work.  Another short recovery spin.  Nothing special.

Fri - I got to spend the afternoon with my best homegirl, Angie, and her daughter, Fey.  Walking, shopping, and lounging outside a French restaurant drinking wine and munching on yummy appetizers like olives and bread.

Sat - Early morning swim at the gym.  Farmers Market with another fabulous girlfriend.  Coffee in the grass with friends.  And then an early evening at a local cafe drinking sangria and stretching out in hammocks in the sand.

Sun - Whitewater kayaking with great friends.  Lunch and beers at a local brewpub.  Then walking and shopping and more micro brews in Hood River.

Training starts up again next week, slowly.  6 hours on the schedule.  I'm chomping at the bit to get at it, but there are still a couple weeks of recovery as things slowly ramp up.

IMCdA - Final Recap

First, let's take a look at my predictions for race day.  I know, this hand scratched paper is very out of character for me.  I forgot to print out my pretty Excel spreadsheet with paces drilled down to the nanosecond.

So, how did I do?


Swim - 1:24:48
T1 - 0:05:31
Bike - 7:33:11
T2 - 0:04:27
Run - 6:51:45
Total = 15:59:42

Swim was within 12 seconds.  Both transitions were slightly faster than expected.  Bike was MUCH faster than expected.  Run was MUCH slower than expected.  Overall finish time was within 9 minutes of predicted.

They say there is no such thing as a good bike and a bad run.  My day was no exception.  I botched up my pacing pretty good at this race.  But...my only goals, in order, were to make the bike cutoff (done!) and finish the course (done!) before midnight (DONE!).  I learned a lot out there last week.  In hindsight, there are a few things I would do differently.  But I did the best I could with what I had on that day, and rather than second guess my choices and decisions, I'm moving forward with the lessons learned.  I'll keep the detailed analysis between me and my coach, but pieces of those lessons will surely pop up on the blog between now and November.

Moving on to Ironman Arizona.  20 weeks!

IMCdA 2011 - Race Report

Event: Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene
Date: June 26, 2011
Website: www.ironmancda.com

Last time I wrote an Ironman race report, I split it up into a few different posts.  This is just one loooong post, so you may want to split up your reading into a few different sessions.  Thank you to all of my beyond amazing family, friends, and blog readers.  This journey would not have been the same without all of you.

Pre-Race:

I was up at 3:00 am to start feeding the calories down the hatch.  High protein Ensure and coffee were first.  Half a bagel and 2 eggs were next.  A banana a bit later.  Then sipping on a bottle of Perform until heading out of transition towards the water.  One last PowerGel before the cannon went off.

Ken was volunteering in the water as a kayaker, so we dropped him off at the boat launch and said our goodbyes.  Mom was volunteering in the women's change tent, so she was able to go into transition with me.  Bodymarking, nutrition on bike, air up tires, porta-potty lines, and then finally getting into the wetsuit, lubing up, and then filing towards the water like cattle.

Since the water temp on race morning was a balmy 54 degrees, I wore old socks on my hands and feet that I could ditch to the side before entering the water.

After getting through the cattle call, I walked down to the shore and just sort of stopped where there was room.  I looked around and realized I had seeded myself smack dab in the middle of the masses.  Shrug.  I'm a middle-of-the-pack swimmer, so I might as well start there.

The national anthem was sung and echoed across the the quiet lake.  Mike Reilly boomed over the sound system "TODAY, you WILL become an Ironman!".  U2's It's a Beautiful Day started playing.  The cannon went off.  And the crowd cheered as everyone filed into the water and we started our Ironman day.

Swim:
It is impossible to convey the chaos that is an Ironman swim to anyone who has not experienced it themselves.  Imagine 2500 type-A athletes, fully tapered, anxious to race, all trying to get to (and then turn around) the same 2-foot buoy less than 1000 meters away.  I was punched, groped, dunked, crawled over, swam under, and I even ended up with someone else's toes in my mouth.  The first 5 minutes were spent with my head mostly out of the water, trying to protect my face and teeth.  The turn buoys were so congested that instead of swimming, we all had to bob in the water and let the blob of people carry us around the turn.  Lap 2 was slightly less brutal.  I alternated between plenty of open water to swim freely, to fighting for space with 30 others.  Over and over again.  Finally the exit chute started getting closer and closer, and I was standing up and climbing out of the water.

One note about the water conditions on race morning.  The lake temp was measured at 54.7 degrees.  Someone from the med tent said that over 100 athletes were either pulled out of the water or didn't exit the warming yurt by the cutoff time.  I wasn't bothered by the cold too much on lap 1 - adrenaline and panic tends to make you not feel things like that for at least a short while.  But by lap 2 I was trying to pee in my wetsuit to generate heat, I was having difficulty moving my fingers, and an ice cream headache was developing.  I was only in the water for 84 minutes.  For those in the water close to the allotted 140 minutes - major props to you.  Just making it to the bike was a major accomplishment that day.

T1:

I ran up the beach to the wetsuit strippers, pointed to the biggest set of guys I could see, flew to the ground, got stripped, was yanked back to my feet, and ran to the changing tent grabbing my transition bag along the way.  This part happens so fast.  Bam bam bam bam bam.  It's a complete blur.

Once in the tent I spotted my Mom immediately.  She was volunteering in the tent and was able to help me swap gear and get out the door within a few minutes.  Shoes on.  Lube up.  Belt on.  Arm warmers on.  Helmet on.  Buckled helmet and donned sunglasses while running out to the bike.  As I was nearing the bike racks, I spotted my little brother JoshyPoo, who was volunteering as a bike handler.  Quick hug, grabbed my bike, and headed on out for 112 miles of fun!

Bike:

The first few minutes on the bike are PACKED with crazy screaming enthusiastic spectators.  Cowbells and clappers and pompoms and whistles.  The crowds ease up at bit as the course turns away from town along the lake towards Higgins Point.  I began to settle into my pace, start my nutrition and hydration schedule, and mentally prepare for the long day ahead.  The first hill was long and slow and steady, then back down the other side to the turnaround.  Back up, down the other side, and through town again before heading out to the hills by Hayden Lake.  At mile 20 I started to get nervous with anticipation.  I had only driven the course just two days earlier, and was anxious to see what the hills felt like on two wheels.

English Point marked the start of the climbing section.  Followed by a few more big ones, followed by some rollers, followed by a few more big ones, and then the flat section back into town.  Each hill required me to gradually shift into my granny gear, and then slowly grind to the top.  I tried to push down the hills, gaining as much free speed as possible in order to help get me up the next hill.  I repeated several mantras along the way.  To the beat of each pedal stroke.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  And lots of counting to 50 over and over again.  Every 30 minutes I took a hit off my gel flask, 10 minutes later a sip of Perform, 10 minutes later a Powerbar Energy Blast.  Sprinkled with water and thermalytes.  Repeated over a dozen times.

I stopped on lap 2 at the special needs station to pick up my treats (pop tart and uncrustable) and check my rear tire (I'm a flat tire hypochondriac).  I rolled back through town and out to Hayden while trying to psych myself up for another round of climbing.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  OUCH DAMN OUCH MO*&ER FU&%ER!!!  At mile 80, while part way up English Point, a wasp flew at me, landed on my leg, and stung the hell out of it.  Nothing to do but keep climbing and hope that I didn't have a bad reaction.  I kept an eye on my breathing and heart rate, while watching my leg swell and bruise and turn a few ugly shades of red.  At this point the sun was starting to beat down and heat things up.  My stomach was unhappy and not being quiet about it.  The back and knees were joining my stomach.  My pace was starting to slow a bit.  I started failing to keep up with my nutrition and hydration strategy.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  Grind grind grind.  Oh dang, extremely necessary bathroom stop.  Only 22 miles left.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  Only 12 miles left.  Nice and easy back to town.  I stayed aero as much as possible to duck under the head wind.  A little wind ain't no thang!  I was making the cutoff today!  A smile plastered across my face because I knew that no matter what, I was going to be an Ironman today.

T2:

The crowds that lined the streets on the way out of town had grown even bigger by the time I was getting off the bike.  More cowbells and screaming and signs.  I dismounted, tossed the bike to a volunteer, grabbed my bag, and ran to the change tent for the last and final time.

My Mom and JoshyPoo were able to get into transition and were waiting for me at the entrance to the tent.  We had a little celebration, hugs all around, and then I went inside to prep for the last 26.2 miles of the day.  Shorts off, shorts on.  Shirt off, shirt on.  Compression socks on.  Shoes on.  Deodorant (hey, a girls gotta feel fresh) and body glide applied.  Ice water over the head and out the door with visor and sunglasses in hand.  I was a few steps from the transition exit when I realized I had left my Garmin on the bike.  Doh!  Thankfully little bro was able to retrieve it for me and pass it off later in the run.

Run:

First 60 seconds - Sweet I feel GOOD.  Next 60 seconds - Oooh, oooow, calf cramps.  Next 60 seconds - Ow ow ow ow, I want to walk, but there are so many people.  Don't walk.  Don't walk.  Don't walk.  Next 60 seconds - F*^k it.  I'm walking.  I did a run/walk off and on the for the first 6 miles, but as the calf cramps worsened and the blisters formed, I started to do a lot more walking than running.  Eventually my lower back joined the party and just staying upright became a challenge.  At about mile 9 my stomach had enough and decided it was done with Ironman.  And the death march was underway!  Each aid station was a bathroom stop, swap out the cold sponges, sip of water, ice in the bra, chips or pretzels if the tummy concurred, sip of water, and on to the next aid station.

Around mile 12, right before the downtown turnaround, I entered a dark dark place.  Pain, despair, disappointment, dread, self pity.  I had been here before in Arizona of 2009, but not this deep.  The cheers from the crowds seemed to push me further down, rather than lift me up.  Each step jarred my back, shook my swollen leg, and ground sand into the wounds on my feet.  Acid burned the back of my throat, my lips were parched and sunburned, my head throbbed in time with my heart beat.  About this time I saw my family and friends.  They were doing what awesome supporters do - standing out in the hot sun, over 12 hours into the day, cheering and smiling and trying to build me up.  I was ashamed that I couldn't reciprocate the excitement.  After passing them, I did the one thing I wish I could take back from the day.  I walked back through town balling my eyes out.  Tears rolled out from under my sunglasses, my head hung down staring at the pavement.  My body shook with sobs.  But the spectators still clapped and encouraged me to just keep moving forward.  Little by little I climbed out of that hole.  My head rose a bit higher.  My arms swung a little harder.  I pulled out my mantra from the bike.  I will dig.  I won't quit.  I reminded myself how lucky I am to be at the Ironman.  I thought of the names I was racing in honor and memory of.  It was time to end the pity party and get on with the marathon.

I came across another who was climbing out of where I just was.  We walked together until he was in a better place.  And then we came across another.  One by one our group grew as we helped each other along, and then shrunk as some picked up the pace and moved ahead...or dropped back but still moving forward.  We shared stories and secrets with each other, complete strangers, while walking along in the dark.  Even though this is when the body hurts the most, this is maybe my favorite part of the Ironman.  Overcoming the hurt, making friends, moving forward.  The pain became more manageable as we got closer to town.  It's as if the energy from the finish line spreads out on the course, pulling you in.  I waved goodbye to each aid station, knowing that it meant one more mile closer to the finish line.  I started running again.  Soon, sounds from the finish line drifted through the woods onto the course.  Just a few more turns until the final turn onto Sherman Avenue.  My steps got lighter, my head picked up, the smile was plastered onto my face again.

FINALLY the last left hand turn to home.  Almost half a mile of straight road, downhill to the finish line party.  Crowds lined the streets, screaming louder than they had all day.  Music blared from the stores and cars and portable speakers.  People rang cowbells while running next to me, clapping and yelling and just as excited as I was to be finishing.  Kids jumped up and down, stretching out to slap my hand.  Flood lights beamed up the street, illuminating the path to the finish line.  Block after block after block of the loudest, warmest, most awesome welcome I have ever received.  I had a hard time holding back the tears here, but happy ones this time.

By the time I got to the finishers chute, every single trace of pain was gone.  You really do float here.  It's unreal.  I looked up through the crowd, silently thanking everyone for being there to make this one of the most amazing moments of my life.  Mike Reilly said my name, a few words about my finish (the last one before 16 hours), and then...

YOU...ARE...AN...IRONMAN!!!!

Post Race:
I was caught by two awesome ladies, who held me upright and walked me through the finish line process.  Medal over head, collect hat and shirt, and pose for one last photo.  Once they were convinced that I was okay to walk on my own, I was released to the food tent for pizza.  I was able to down a piece of super greasy pepperoni while walking around looking for my family.  Lots of hugs and smiles and celebration!

I really wanted to stay and cheer on the final finishers until midnight.  So my family graciously agreed to help me climb into the bleachers, where we danced and screamed and cheered for another hour, watching dozens of other athletes become Ironmen.

On the walk back to the car, we saw one final woman running down Sherman Ave towards the finish line.  About 2 minutes after midnight.  Everyone on the street stopped to cheer and applaud.  Some of us cried.  It was gut wrenching.  Friends and volunteers ran behind her as she completed the entire 140.6 miles.  Even though she didn't receive an official time or a medal, I hope she knows that she is a true Ironman.

The crew got me home, into an ice bath, showered and changed, and then settled into bed with the one thing I had been craving all year but wouldn't eat until I was an Ironman...a Big Mac!  Hahaha.  (Hopefully my coach has stopped reading this by now).

Again, because I don't think I can say it enough, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart.  This experience was made a million times better because of all of you.

IMCdA 2011 - Videos

Here are a couple of videos while I work on my race report.

The swim start, filmed by Luke, the honey of my Beginner Triathlete friend Nerdjock (aka Ashley).

And me, almost 16 hours later, crossing the awesome awesome finish line on Sherman Avenue.