Swim 2.4 miles
Seeing the beginning of a swim of a triathlon is one of the most amazing sights. One moment it is clear and calm. Behind an invisible line you see all these bright colored swim caps on top of the water, not a whole lot of movement from them.
The second that the race starts it is very different. These arms start moving out of the water. Where the water was once calm, it is now abuzz with white capped waves caused by this huge mass movement. My sister thinks it looks like dolphins, many people refer to it as the start of the washing machine. I think it is mesmerizing.
The cannon went off, and so did my heart. It was time to begin swimming. Great....breathe in breathe out, face in the water. One stroke, two stroke....need air.....one stroke, two stroke, three stroke......whoa!!
Before the cannon had gone off there were a lot of athletes up at the start line of the swim. I decided to hang back a bit, I wasn't trying to break any world records, not even my own record. I did not want to get in the way of these more serious swimmers. I did notice that there was a gal on a surfboard at the front of the start line, probably to keep the swimmers from cheating for those couple of inches. I wondered where she was going to go after the start for she was in the very middle of the long line of swimmers. As the race began I last noted that she was moving towards the edge.
I was feeling very calm for the first couple of yards. I started having a false sense of confidence that this wouldn't be too bad, heck I was going to do great. Then I felt something over me. Freaky. It was that dang surfboard! Why didn't she move out of the way?! I lifted my head which threw my legs down perpendicular to the surface of the water. Instantly I was splashed in the face with gallons of water coming from everywhere. I started choking on the water, started hyperventilating. Oh, no, I wasn't sure I could do this.
I had been anxious for the swim, and not a good anxious. I even had several dreams that were more like nightmares about the swim. It was not something I was looking forward to. After my swim with Sunny I felt a little bit better, then two days before the race we went out to Sand Hollow again. I did much better, even went out and swam around the island. I was all smiles afterwards. Carol told me something that I took note. She said that I just had to accept that I would panic or have a hard time for the first 10-15 minutes, that I would panic, but then I would find my groove and be able to get into the zone.
As I was choking on water, getting hit from every side by swimmers going past me I remembered Carol's advice and just accepted that I was going to panic, but it was okay, it was only going to be for a small moment, and I was NOT going to drown.
Not wanting to waste a lot of time hyperventilating and not making any forward progress, I turned onto my back and started doing my version of the back stroke.
The fact that I competed in a race that has a 2.4 mile swim is amazing. I have never been a good swimmer, the
doggie paddle was about all that I could do, and even then I was pathetic. My four year-old was a better swimmer than I. Last May my friend Linda had talked to me about doing a triathlon. I had convinced her to do a marathon, so I figured that I should at least try what she was doing. I liked the idea of a triathlon, but I could not swim, I didn't even know how to start. Linda is a really strong swimmer, so she took the time and taught me what to do. Soon I found that I really enjoyed swimming, not that I am very good at it, but I can do it.
Though Linda did try to teach me some other strokes, I only focused on the free style (is that what it is called? or maybe it's called the front crawl...I don't really know). Because I didn't really learn from her how to do the back stroke, I do my own version. My version involves me floating on my back, shooting my arms above my head and butterflying them out to my sides on the top of the water. I felt bad as I would hit swimmers at my sides, but then I would think that whenever you do a triathlon everyone is hitting and bumping into one another, no one really (should) gets mad or upset. I felt even worse when one woman passed me doing a true backstroke with her arms going underneath her rather to the sides hitting anyone in striking distance. I really should not be allowed to swim competitively, though I wouldn't call my swimming competitive at all.
After swimming on my back between a couple of buoys and lifting my head to find that I had gotten way off course, I decided to try the front crawl. I saw a woman that was going my same speed, so in attempts to focus, I swam behind her, focusing on her bare feet that had pink painted toenails. I would go several strokes feeling pretty good, trying to not panic, but then the feet I was watching would drop as the woman lifted her head to "spot" (see that you're going in the right direction). After almost running right into her a couple of times, I decided to follow another person.
I was focusing on the next person's feet when they too would suddenly drop for the swimmer to spot. This happened several times and with several different people that I followed. Spotting is definitely important, I should know since I veered off course too many times, often having the boating volunteers call my attention to set me back on track. But because of the spotting, following people became a problem for me. I didn't know when the person was going to spot, I had no signs of preparation for me to stop, I didn't want to run into the person that was unknowingly helping me. I finally decided to bag following someone and to go on my own.
I wasn't quite ready for the front crawl, still was feeling anxiety, so I went to my backstroke. All of those lucky people around me must have appreciated that.
As I cornered the second turn, noticing that the swimmers were becoming much more sparse, I decided it was time for me to really start swimming. I had had my moments of panic, way longer than 15 minutes, so now it was time to get into the zone, just in time to go down the
longest stretch of the swim.
The swim course is marked with buoys spread evenly around the course. Most swimmers focus on getting from buoy to buoy, and I was no exception. The buoys seem a lot farther from
each other when you swim them than they do when you just look at the course from afar. To help me get into the zone, I decided to count my strokes and breaths between each buoy. It took a little time for this to take over my thoughts, but after time, I was in the groove. I counted "one, two, three, breathe, two, two, three, breathe, three, two three.......". I was taking a breath every three strokes, a little sooner than my normal 5 strokes while training in the pool, but it is normal in racing to take breaths more frequently. I figured out, because swimming can get boring at times, that I was doing 120 strokes between buoys, because 40 breaths between buoy at 3 strokes a breath comes to 120 strokes. Am I a nerd?
The thoughts that go through your mind as you swim can almost be comical. You think about anything or everything. The swim doesn't have the scenery to distract you like the bike and run does. When I swim I will think about my kids, my calling, what we were going to eat for dinner, what I am going to teach my kids, what I'm going to blog about, conversations I have had, conversations I wish I had. Swimming really becomes a world of your own. During the
Ironman swim, my thoughts were more focused compared to when I am doing a training swim, but I still did find random thoughts coming into my mind.
I finally made it past the island and at the last turn. I was so excited. I was so close....but there was still a long way, I chose to not focus on that, but rather on the fact that I had made it so far without drowning. Wanting to stay away from the pack of swimmers, I kept finding myself swimming off track, causing me to have to swim back in, but it didn't bother me for I was almost done!
As I was coming up to the ramp, where the water is getting shallow and you're swimming your last few strokes, I noticed the swimmer just in front of me. The person had a lime-green swimming cap on, which indicated it was a man, but the swimmer had a woman's body (which is actually difficult to determine since wetsuits make us all look the same, so maybe I was more clued onto the artistic design on the back of the wetsuit was more feminine). I instantly knew it was Sunny. Because of her late registration, Sunny had gotten a green cap for there are a lot more male athletes than female. This year only
18% of the registrants were female!
I yelled Sunny's name, trying to get her attention, but because we were both wearing ear plugs, she could not hear me. I got up to chase after her. Meanwhile I heard my name being called out, I looked over and saw my mom,
Lyndee and Nathan there cheering for me. I have no clue how they recognized me for all of us swimmers look identical. I waved to them then caught up with Sunny. I grabbed her from behind and we both celebrated, not only that we had finished at the same time, but more because we had finished the swim, something that was not easy for either of us.
When asked what my weakest event was going to be, I knew by far that it would be the swim. I am competent on the bike, I can run through almost anything, but the swim I have no confidence in. I use to get nauseous in the swim whenever I would swim over half a mile, then thanks to Jeff, that problem was solved. Being an audiologist, Jeff made me some custom fit ear plugs and amazingly enough, I never felt nauseous again. But just feeling nauseous wasn't the only problem. I was not confident at all with swimming in the open water. It scared me, made me nervous, destroyed me mentally.
Swimming in the pool isn't really difficult for me. The first three laps I struggle with my breath and feeling anxious, but after that I could swim all day. During training, I usually swam the entire distance of 2.4 miles unless time did not allow. My speed has been quite consistent, I usually finish swimming the distance in 96 minutes, or 1:36.
My time in the swim portion of the race was: 1:35:52 Talk about consistent!
I got out of my wetsuit thanks to some Strippers, yep that is what they called the volunteers that would strip the wetsuits off of the athletes. Once out of my wetsuit I had to grab my bike needs bag and run to the women's tent. I felt a little awkward running, not only because I was running barefoot on the asphalt, but because I happened to be wearing only swimsuit bottoms and a sports bra with a lot of people around. Not really use to that.
Inside the changing tent a volunteer helped me get out of my wet clothes and into my dry biking clothes. I made sure to use the bathroom for it is much easier to use it then, rather than have to get off my bike later to use it...the random things you think through for the race.
I came out of the tent, got lathered up with sunscreen and went to get my bike. Unlike the Half
Ironman, there were volunteers shouting your number as you came out of the tent so when you came down the aisle a volunteer had your bike in hand, ready for you to take. I grabbed my bike just as I saw my support and fan team (Mom,
Lyndee, and Nathan) shouting for me. I smiled and waved. I took my bike across the timing mat, climbed on, clipped in my shoes then took off down the hill.
Bike 112 Miles
Carol had also warned me that whenever she transitions to the next event, she has a hard time for the first 10 minutes, her heart is racing, she has a hard time breathing. Then she gets breathing normally and into the zone. I had experienced that with the Half
Ironman, but was surprised when I got on my bike and felt no such feeling.
It great (I guess that's what happens when you're so relieved to have just finished what you had been dreading). I rode my mom's bike, which is nicer than the one I have at home so it wasn't too difficult a transition. But I immediately noticed how heavy it felt. I tried to ignore that, especially since I knew that I had put in extra tubes and CO2 canisters in my saddle bag. Riding felt easy, my heart rate was staying down, life was good. Because I still felt the heaviness of the bike, I looked down by my seat. Of course the saddle bag under me that holds all the repair stuff was hanging down rather than being snugly strapped to the bottom of the seat. I had to stop,
unclip (which is very annoying, but not as annoying as when you stop and forget to
unclip) and strap the bag down better.
When people start wearing bike clips (shoes that clip onto the pedal) they usually have several falls. These falls don't happen while they're riding, but rather when they're stopped. A biker will come to a red light, slow to a stop, then will remember too late that he can't just put his foot down and will find himself on the ground, bike stuck between his legs. For the first month that I rode with clips (last summer) I was very careful to be mindful to
unclip whenever I stopped. I did a great job of not falling. But then I have fallen a couple of times since, each time at my driveway.
The last time I fell was about a month ago. I had just gotten home from doing a 90 mile ride in which I had run out of salt tablets after the first 20 miles, so my legs were cramping up very badly. I got to my driveway to discover that the garage door had been closed. While slowly riding my bike up my driveway I pulled out my phone to call Todd to ask him to open the garage door. As Mikey answered the phone I suddenly and slowly fell to the ground. I was exhausted from the ride, so I just lied on the ground as I asked Mikey to open the door for me. I heard someone yell, "Are you alright". I looked up to find my fifty something old neighbors running from their garage towards me. Sheepishly embarrassed, I slowly got up and told them I was fine. Lesson being: if you ever wear clip in shoes, beware of when you stop. And if you do fall, get up so that your neighbors don't have to come running to save you.
As I got to the turn where I was going from the road to Sand Hollow to the highway that William's accident had occurred I saw Del and Geoff, my British 6
th cousins, cheering for me. That made me so happy to see them. In my racing I get a lot of energy from seeing people I know and love. When I see my kids or family it gives me so much strength to continue and to push it even harder. My support crew is my secret drug.
I turned down the highway and found myself going over the same piece of road where I was twelve hours earlier, where I was holding William waiting for the ambulance, where his accident had happened. I thought it would bother me to go through there, but rather I found myself just praying a prayer of gratitude that my son's life had been spared. My heart and entire being was just filled with gratitude. I could have stopped racing right there and then and not have any complaints whatsoever. I need to remind myself of that anytime I wish I would've raced faster. There were several times on the bike that I would get nervous or scared going downhill, thinking that I didn't want to get hurt. Then I would realize that I still was going slower than William was in his accident. Disbelief washed over me to think that he was able to go through that and come out as good as he did.
The bike course was about a 20 mile ride from Hurricane to St. George, going the back way through Washington and up by the Dixie Rock in St. George. From there you did about a 45 mile loop beginning at Bluff Street. It went through Snow Canyon,
Ivins,
Gunlock, then up around
Veyo, down back to Bluff Street. This loop, which has many hills, no mountains, was done twice.
The ride over to the beginning of the first loop, was smooth and exhilarating. It was great being able to ride my bike without having to worry about a car coming up and hitting me from behind (I am a paranoid biker). I climbed the hills with no problems, passing many people as I did it. But when I would go downhill, I was the one getting passed for I didn't want to go too fast...very paranoid.
I_got started on the first loop, about 20 miles into the course, and was in high spirits. I was having fun and I was excited. The sun was bearing down on me, but that didn't dampen my mood. I was getting excited to see my mom and whoever was with her around mile 50, at the Wall.
The Wall is a ridiculously steep and long (almost a mile) hill that begins at a sharp U-turn so that you have no momentum to begin with. It is a difficult hill in and of itself, but when you add the fact that you have to go up it, twice, along with 110 more miles, it is just down right gruesome. I was not looking forward to the Wall itself, but was looking forward to seeing my mom and family, I was excited to get some of my "fuel" from them especially at a difficult point.
The road through
Gunlock was beautiful, and I was so grateful that it wasn't too windy. The wind in Southern Utah can be terrible, and when you are hit with a headwind, biking is near impossible.
The professional athletes went zooming past me on their second loop, but hey, they started the race 15 minutes before me. It was cool to see them in action. They were fast and made their riding seem effortless.
I was going at a pretty good speed when I noticed a particular red and black shirt ahead. It was Sunny. She had made it out of transition a couple of minutes ahead of me, so I was happy to meet back with her. We rode, side by side a lot of the time, talking and giving
eachother support. It was great seeing her and being with her. A couple of miles before we got to the wall we were passed by the leading female professional athlete. Following her was a motorcycle with race officials. They yelled at me to get into single file. Grateful that they didn't give me penalty, I moved ahead of Sunny. I was sad not to be able to be next to Sunny, but I was getting excited to see my mom.
I came to the sharp u-turn, went around it very slowly, then looked ahead up the long, long hill. There were dozens and dozens of bikers going up the hill. Some were biking, some were walking, some were standing up on their pedals, all were being challenged. I was pushing it, for it was what I had been waiting for. I was doing so well, I was passing people, I was focused, I was strong. I kept scanning the sides of the road ahead, looking for anyone that looked like my mom, it was a long hill with several turns in it. I knew she would be just around the next corner.
I came around the last corner, to the top of the Wall.......my mom wasn't there. I couldn't believe it. The air went out of my sails. I could hardly breathe, I was tired, my legs ached, the sun was scorching me. This was not fun. Sunny came up to me and told me to push it through the next small incline, but I couldn't. I just biked in her dust.
I came upon an aid station and almost in a daze took a Gatorade and refilled my bottles. As I was riding through the aid station I heard someone yell out my name. I looked back, it was a volunteer from the aid station but I was too far at this point to be able to tell who it was. I guess it really didn't matter for the person could have been a stranger that just read my name off my bib number. But I like to think it was someone I knew personally.
I kept my eye out for my mom, in hopes that she was somewhere else, as I came to the part where we ride through the St. George Marathon course. It is a beautiful course, but I wasn't feeling too appreciative of it. I was not in a good mood, nor was I doing too well.
People recommend doing the St. George Marathon for there is a lot of downhill, but after riding it I realized that there is a heck of a lot more uphill than downhill. The downhill is mostly towards the end and is too steep to really take advantage of. I decided that I may never do the St. George Marathon again....maybe I was just having a bad attitude.
I decided that I probably was just crashing, nutrition wise, and that I needed to take something. Ugh! Not more gel! I didn't know what to do. Then I became a little excited to realize that we were coming upon the 56 mile mark, the half-way point. There would be my "Bike Special Needs" bag at that point, and inside the bag I had packed a Smucker's Peanut Butter and Jelly Uncrustable!
I was feeling a little bit happier, but then that was squandered when I saw that the bags were being handed out at the middle of the incline of a hill. You have got to be kidding me! I had to stop, get off my bike, get my stuff, then get back on my bike on the middle of a hill! The designer of the course really hated me.
I stopped, sprayed myself with some sunblock I had packed, grabbed my sandwhich, visited the port-a-potty then was on my way...up the hill.
Eventually I got to the last couple miles of the loop that has the incredible downhill. I started going down the hills, braking a lot, but then I thought about the efforts I had made in going up the hills and thought it was ridiculous to waste all that effort by slowing down. I said to myself, "I did it with Jeff, I can do it now".
One week before the race, I went biking with Jeff. Carol didn't join us because she wasn't as brave as Jeff and I (sorry Carol, just kidding, don't hurt me). It was a windy, windy day. Carol didn't want to go out in that wind, Jeff probably didn't want to either but was just being nice (or maybe obeying his wife's orders) for even though it was miserable outside, I hadn't been on a bike for a couple of weeks since I was in Costa Rica. If I wanted to be able to ride 112 miles the next week, I HAD TO RIDE.
I followed Jeff as we rode to Hurricane and went on the new back road (sorry, I don't know what it's called). This road has a lot of hills, very steep, and a car can come up from behind very quickly with very little visibility. It's really a thrill ride in of itself.
As we rode our bikes down the longest and steepest of hills, we were hit with a side wind. I got very nervous, especially as my bike drifted closer and closer to the middle of the road. I felt as though I had no control over my bike. I could easily fall, and the speed I was going at was not going to make it an easy fall at all. I tried to not think about crashing, tried to stay positive. I about lost it when I came to the last of the decline, the point where I was going the fastest, and a big gust of wind came through the canyon, pushing against me even more. I don't know how, but I managed to stay on my bike that entire time. It was scary, I really did not like it, but it did give me more confidence for the Ironman, and more confidence
during the Ironman.
I started the second loop, still not feeling all too happy. I started wondering if I needed to take more salt tablets or if I had taken too much. My stomach didn't feel great, but I could feel that my legs were starting to get achy. My seat was killing me, couldn't be comfortable if my life depended on it. My neck was starting to strain and I found that the best solution was placing my chin into my hand while resting my elbow on my bike. I had a couple of people that passed commented on the fact that I looked bored. I wasn't as bored as I was hurting, so regardless of how silly I looked, I kept it there when I could.
I was still peddling, still riding, but not with as much determination or speed. It had been a long day, a long two days and I was about done.
I started looking at my watch, looking at my speed, looking at my mileage, thinking about how much more of the bike I had left, how much time I had left to do it before the cut off (where they just send you home for you cannot finish the race in time). I realized that if I didn't start getting myself into gear, I may not make the cut off. Now I am not sure if I did the calculations correctly, nevertheless it got me going. My determination was jumped back into action. I started to put the pedal to the medal.
I wasn't going as fast as I was earlier, but I was still pushing myself. I was being more consistent. I was still tired, but quitting was not an option, not at this point, not while I still had something still left in me. There were a lot of people dropping out of the race at this point, almost at every point that there was a volunteer was an athlete on their back, in the shade, waiting for someone to take them off the course. Even the person in the penalty tent looked grateful for a small break in the shade. I sympathized with them, it was hot, it was hard, but I was not going to quit.
The hills were killers. At this point there were a lot of people walking their bikes up the hills. I wondered if doing so would help save their legs for the run and gave myself permission to get off and walk if I needed to. Miraculously I didn't walk at all. I just kept my head down and focussed on pedaling for the moment.
I came upon the Wall with a lot less juice as I had the first time around. I had not only swam 2.4 miles, but also had ridden for 90 miles in the heat. I went around the u-turn to find my face slapped with hot wind. Great, headwind for going up the Wall.
Even near the bottom of the Wall there were a lot of people walking their bikes. Again I gave myself permission to walk if I needed to. I decided to focus on each curve ahead, each sign ahead, telling myself that once I got to that curve or sign, I could get off and start walking. I would get to that point and keep on riding.
I kept my head down, letting myself feel the hill, letting my body read my bike, really decide when it was time to shift gears. I lifted my head as I turned a corner near the top. There on the side of the road I saw two girls sitting on chairs. One girl had a huge ball on her lap, weird, very weird. I immediately recognized the girl to be LeNae! (who was in her pajamas). Lana was sitting next to LeNae and my mom and Brian were sitting on the other side of the road!
I was so excited to see them. It was an incredible feeling. I still felt exhausted and mostly out of breath, but I still felt some renewed energy from seeing them. I told my mom that I was so happy to see her (yes, I was going slow enough up that hill to be able to talk to someone on the side of the road). I asked her where she had been. They had been sitting there for almost three hours. They had just missed me the first time because they got held up behind traffic. I understood and was just grateful for them being there.
I was re-energized. I started pushing myself. I got to the StG marathon course in a much better attitude. Though I still found there to be a lot of uphill, I found it to be much more beautiful and almost enjoyable.
Even though I was in a better mood, I still wasn't thrilled when I came upon an aid station that was in the middle of an upward hill. You have got to be kidding me! When you come upon an aid station while biking, you don't stop - you can if you want to I guess - you just slow down, call out what you need and grab the item(s) as you continue on your way. Slowing down during a climb, loosing your focus when you need it, was not something that I necessarily liked, but it was too hot to pass up an opportunity to get more fluids.
I finally came to the downhills. I was thrilled. I kept telling myself, "I did it with Jeff, I can do it now" over and over again, especially when I was tempted to get nervous. There were times that I would use the brake, but for the most part I just let myself sail. It was estatic when I got to the bottom of a steep downhill without using my brake...almost as awesome as climbing (riding up a hill) a particularly challenging hill. I would let out a joyus yell, for it was difficult for me to "let go" and trust that I wouldn't crash.
As I rode the last few miles of the course into downtown, I was able to pass by those that were already doing the running portion of the race. I quickly noticed how miserable everyone looked, how hot it was. It did not look fun and even though I was saddle sore, wanting to get off my bike, I was not looking forward to joining those runners. It was going to be a LONG and hot 26.2 miles.
My biking time was 7:58:23. That is a 14 mph average (not bad considering that course) with a top speed (according to my Garmin) of 37.6 mph - scary.
Run 26.2 Miles
I rode into T2 (Transition 2, from bike to run) where volunteers took my bike from me - the volunteers at this race were awesome. They were so attentive and helpful, treating everyone as though they were a professional athlete. As I grabbed my running bag and was heading towards the changing tent I noticed that to the left of me was Sunny! We had ended the bike at the same time!
I got into the tent, changed my shoes and changed my shorts then waited for Sunny to get ready. We came out of the tent and onto the course together. We were both so thrilled to have gotten finished with the bike, but not too thrilled with the heat we were going to have to run through.
I was feeling pretty good, determined to run, but after running a couple of hundred yards, Sunny needed to walk. Turns out that she had been pretty good and steady on the bike course, until she got to the Wall for the second time. After that the rest of the course (she still had 22 miles) were just difficult for her. Even though I felt as though I could run, I wasn't feeling
that good and made the decision that I would rather go a little slower and be with Sunny rather than push myself and get burnt out all alone. Turns out I had made a good decision, for Sunny was definitely not the weaker of us two.
We got to the first aid station and were so happy to find that they had ice-cold wet sponges. I grabbed a couple, squeezed the water on the top of my head, threw back the sponges and went on to see what other goodies the aid station had. I was starving, and not for another gel. Honestly I wanted a big hamburger, but I settled for the oranges and grapes they were handing out. I was so hungry and thirsty and found myself taking food and drinks at every aid station for the first couple of miles - big mistake. That did not sit well with my stomach.
In hopes of keeping ourselves focused, Sunny and I came up with a game plan, kind of. We decided to run when we could (great plan, huh), especially during all the flat parts (probably a total of 3 miles) and that we would treat the rest like an ultramarathoner, walk the hills.
The run course was not an easy course in any stretch of the imagination. It was an out-n-back done twice. If the mononteny of doing the same 6.5 miles four times didn't kill you, the heat and the hills that were presented both ways would certainly try.
The heat was bad, really bad. I heard it got up to 96 degrees, which I believe easily. It was hot, unbearably hot. I felt as though I was running through a hot blow drier. There was no relief, no shade, no breeze. The heat sucked whatever energy I had left, making it extremely difficult to run.
The running course started at the center of town, by the tabernacle, went up Main street to Diagnol street. This leads out to Bluff street then we turned right up onto Red Hills Parkway. Any road with the word "Hills" in it is not a good thing. Red Hills Pkwy is very hilly, and not shaded at all and was about 4 miles long. At the turnaround spot, we would turn around and run all the way back to T2 and run the course again. Talk about a good time!
Somewhere between mile 2-3, we passed Carol going the other way, finishing her first out-n-back. She looked good and strong. We were wishing that we felt as good as she looked and she was wishing that she had someone running with her.
My stomach was not doing well, but I knew that with the heat, I had to keep taking in fluids. It was a difficult dance, trying to stay hydrated but not overly hydrated.
With about a mile left until the turnaround, Sunny's daughter Quincy was on the side of the road. Sunny introduced us, to which we both politely said "Hi". Quincy went on and on praising her mom, telling her that she was doing such a great job, what a great example she was, and expressed her love for her. I had heard a lot about Quincy, not only from training with Sunny previously but as well as during the race.
Sunny and I had tried to keep some sort of a conversation going throughout the run, make it go by a little faster and bearable. It wasn't always easy, and I'm not sure everything we said made sense. When the heat was at it's highest, I think we both may have been a little delerious.
One of the hardest things for me was not being able to use an ipod. I did okay for the most part of the race, but I know that there were a lot of points on both the run and bike that I could have used a power song. I had used power songs during the 100 miler and sometimes that was the only thing keeping me going, keeping me focused, getting me into the zone.
In every hard run, it is imperative that I get into the zone. When you are in the zone, you can handle pain better, you can do more than you would ever have thought. When I get into the zone, my thoughts flow more freely, I'm not struggling for things to think or talk about, my thoughts are just running across my mind as I am running across the ground. In the zone my thoughts can get more depth, my prayers more sincere, inspiration more clear. When in the zone, I am not concerned about the sign on the street or cracks in the sidewalk, I am focusing on the present while trying to discover the best for the future. The zone is where I try to figure life out, the zone is my meditation spot, my time to commune with God.
We came to the turnaround, mile 6.5 and I was overjoyed to see my mom, Nathan, Lyndee, Brian, Del, and Geoff all sitting there cheering for me. I was 1/4 of the way done with the run and it had taken me 1:30 to do it...slow, but I was still making forward movement.
Nathan followed me for a little bit with his new video camera. He later made me a video of all that he was able to capture, including me dropping my popsicle on the ground and picking it up and eating it, not concerned at all about the dirt and germs.
Before getting to the turnaround and after the turnaround, we had to run on an asphalt pathway through Pioneer Park. This "park" is not a green grass tree filled park, it is a desert park with red rock and sand, cactuses, and no mercy from the sun. Just as we entered the park, we passed Chris going the other way. He was good, hot, but good. When we were about to exit the park we ran into Jeff. He looked terrible. I'm not quite sure he even recognized us for he looked delerious. His eyes were wide, he was going slow, he did not look very good at all.
As we started down one of the hills, I was wishing I would have taken the time to clip my toenails. Carol had mentioned it several days before the race, but I usually wait until the night before a race to clip my toenails. With all that happened with William, I had neglected to do my clipping. This is a big mistake for when you are running your toes will slightly hit the front of your shoes. When running longer distances, you will find great pain from this constant hitting, as I did, and will usually get black toenails, which I got, which will lead to you loosing a toenail.
One thing about running is that it will usually hurt in someway, whether it's an ache you've been feeling, a previous injury flaring up, or your lungs about to explode. But once you start running, you will usually continue to have the pain, but it usually doesn't get any worse. I kept thinking about this during the race, and I wish I could say that it pushed me to keep running harder, but it didn't.
I got to Bluff street and was so happy to be off the Red Hills Parkway, for the time being. I ran through the aid station and in the middle of it I saw Kasidi! Kasidi was a girl that I went to church with when I was a teenager. She was always so cute, witty, hilarious, and sweet. I hadn't seen nor talked with her much after high school, but always remained friends within my heart. I grabbed her arm as I was going past and said her name. I wasn't sure if she was going to recognize me, I feel like I've lived away from Southern Utah for so long that no one would remember me, let alone recognize me. I recieved a scream of recognition in return. I was happy to see that she remembered me. She later sent me this message:
"Okay, so I was super excited to see you at the Ironman, in case you couldn't tell. Here is the story: So the night before I was thinking that you would be in the Ironman and I was thinking of all of the things that I wanted to say to you as you ran past if I got to see you but I didn't think that I would. So I was thinking about things such as: You are my hero! I need your information about homeschooling amazing boys! I love you! Thanks for all of your years of friendship! But you did come running by and I was struck with celebrity shock and all that came out was your name and more of your name and lots of excitement. I am so proud to know you...!"
Soon afterwards I turned onto Diagnol street and over sitting on her lawn with her husband and baby was my long-time friend, Britta! We played together as young children, our parents were always doing things together, our dad's worked together.
It was great seeing a couple of people that I knew, especially since Sunny had quite the crew rooting for her. Sunny had her husband, most her kids, and a brother and sister-in-law all cheering for her, moving to different spots to offer more support. But I'm really not complaining, for they soon took me in as someone they were cheering and supporting. Instead of the "Go Sunny" that it was at the first, it had become, "Go Sunny, Go Loni!!!" By the end I considered Quincy a dear friend.
We ran down Main street, saw the finisher's arch straight ahead but instead had to turn and loop around to go back up the course once more. It had taken us 3 hours to do the first half, slow, wickedly slow. But Sunny and I were light-hearted about it. Just the week before Sunny's friend had run in a half marathon. After the race Sunny was telling her that she did a good job, finishing in 3:17. The friend was overjoyed for she had thought she had run it in 4:17, doing 13.1 miles in 3:17 was really fast! That story made me feel better.
As we started the second loop the heat started to come down, which it should, it was almost 8 PM! Having it cool off really did help our run, we were able to push it a little bit faster, with a little bit more ease. We were able to run a good portion on our way to the turnaround point. We set running goals for ourselves, like running until we reach the next aid station, running until the next hill, and even running an entire mile.
It was really comforting and fun having Sunny with me. She is a great person, and made it everything seem more bearable, or at least that I wasn't suffering alone. She also helped me when I needed it. During the second loop I started getting light headed, my stomach hurt, and I was feelling sleepy. Sunny recommended that I take some Coke for I probably needed some sugar, something to ease my stomach, and caffine. I was leery about it for I hadn't drinken carbonation for 14 years, I was nervous about what it would do to my stomach. Desperate for some relief and throwing caution to the wind, I drank some Coke. It was heavenly. It helped me get over my ailments.
A couple of miles into the second loop we passed Carol. She was almost done and she looked great. I was so happy for her. We also passed Chris along the way, but we never saw Jeff.
When you do an Ironman, they use temporary tattoo ink to write two numbers on your body. The first number is your bib number that is placed on both forearms. This makes it easier for race officials and volunteers to help you. The second number is your age which they place on the back of your left calve. This is so that when older people pass younger people they can get a mental boost. No, I think it's really so that you can know who is in your age division, but still it doesn't help when someone is zooming past you and you see that they're 57 years old. Kind of a downer moment.
Sunny and I got passed by a man that was 64 years old. We were commenting on his age and how he was beating us when suddenly he tripped and fell to the ground. Luckily he wasn't too hurt, but it still broke my heart to see an older gentleman fall, even if he was in better shape than I.
I think Ironman racing is the great age equalizer. People would pass me that I thought were in their thirties only to find out they were over fifty. Then I would see someone that I swore was at least fifty and would only be thirty-one. I wonder how old people thought I was for I wore compression sleeves on my calves the entire race.
It was getting dark so we were given some glow sticks to wear around our necks. They were actually not that condusive to running, but it was kind of fun having one, so I kept it on.
There were portions of Red Hills Pkwy that were not well lit at all, I kept on getting nervous that I would trip and fall, a real possiblity.
We made it to the turnaround spot for a last time. This time it only took us about 1:15 to do the course. I was happy to see my mom, Brian, Del and Geoff still sitting there. I told my mom to see if Todd and my boys, except for William, could come to the finish. She happened to be on the phone with my dad, so she gave me the phone. In the two seconds that I had, I begged him to bring my boys. He was hesitant, I found out later because he was already in St. George, but he granted me my desires and turned around to pick up my boys.
I really wanted my boys there. They were the biggest support I had. Before coming out Todd had surprised me by having some shirts made for the boys that read, "Team Loni, IronMom". They have been so excited for me to become an Ironman, thinking I'm the greatest and strongest. I wanted them to see me finish this goal I had set for myself.
We met Chris again on the path through Pioneer Park. He looked tired and hurt, but was still going strong. Sunny and I started to mourn a little bit. We hadn't seen Jeff and that only meant one of two things: either he dropped out or he was so far behind on the run that he wasn't going to make the time cut-off. We felt bad for he had worked so hard, he trained for a year. At the same time we were pointing out that he had A LOT to be proud of. He had finished most of the race, finished the swim he was terrified of, finished a monsterous bike, and had done probably half the running course.
Just as we were leaving Pioneer Park, we ran into Jeff! He looked great. He looked alive, happy, strong, and cheerful. I'm guessing he found someone to chat with for I think his secret drug may be socailizing. I wanted to cry I was so happy. We were thrilled to see that not only was he doing so well, but that he was going to be able to finish the race! That gave us a good high that lasted for a mile or two.
When we got to only three miles left, we were coming out of a short out-n-back that goes out to a golf course when we passed Chris going the other way. Chris is a really strong and experienced runner. Knowing this we encouraged him to hurry up and get with us, not really sure that he would be able to do it. Half a mile away Chris reached us, sweating and panting, but happy. We walked for a bit, letting him catch his breath for he had turned it on.
After walking/running a bit, Chris looked at his watch and informed us that if we pushed it, we could come into the finish line before 16 hours. Any little motivator got us going. We started running, us three in a line. We were passing a lot of people, anxious to be done, excited to complete an Ironman, and happy to just be running together. I had found my zone and I was feeling joy.
Just as we turned down Main street, Chris told Sunny and I to go on ahead of him for the announcer wouldn't be able to say all our names, and when you finish an Ironman, you hear the announcer say, "_______you are an Ironman".
Whenever I get to the end of a run, whether it be a race or just a run, long or short, I start turning it on at the end. I'm like a horse that can smell the hay in the barn after a long day on the range. Even Kara, my running partner, makes fun of me for it. I can't help myself, I just get really excited and my legs start moving faster and faster. The end of the Ironman was no exception and I was happy to see that Sunny kept right up with me.
We ran down Main street, spectators that were going home were still cheering, ringing cowbells. There were two arches, the first entering you into a corral with spectators on both sides leading you to the second, being the finish line. I beamed when I saw Todd and my boys cheering for me at the front of the first arch (which I thought was the finish line). I ran down the corral and felt like a superstar as this big mass of people were screaming and shouting for me, hands out to give high-fives. But their screams and shouts did not make me as happy as the screams and shouts from my boys. I was glad they were there.
I crossed over the finish line. "Loni O'Neil from ______, Ohio, You are an Ironman".
He pronounced my name wrong, but I didn't really care, I was done! At the moment I really didn't care that I finished an Ironman race, but more that I could stop, go home, go to sleep.
I was given a medal, which is by far my worst looking medal. This race was the most expensive race I have ever done, farthest in distance completed, yet ugliest medal ever, and smallest. I have no idea what a pregnant weird goat has to do with Southern Utah, but it's hideious. There's writing on the medal but the medal is too small to even see what it says!
Not impressed at all for I only do these things for the hardware :)
In the Running Time's Editorial Note for June 2011 Jonathan Beverly wrote, "Setting an audacious goal, being afraid of it, and then conquering it is one of life's great joys". I agree with that, and in some ways that is why I run, why I race. There is something great about overcoming what you once thought was impossible. It opens so many doors, mentally, for you. There are so many things that I never would have even had the guts to do (like homebirthing, homeschooling, raising 4 boys, etc) if it wasn't for experiences like these that you find out what you are made of, you accept yourself for your short comings only to reveal the great things about yourself.
At the time, I didn't think it was such a big deal to be an "Ironman". I was just glad to be done and desiring to see my boy William. I could have committed to never doing an Ironman again and been fine with that. But as time passes and I start to realize what an accomplishment and experience the whole thing has been, I would say that I will do another one in the future.
It was hard, it was long, it was hot. Of the more than 1600 people who started the race, over 300 didn't finish. That equates to being an 18% DNF (Did Not Finish) rate - incredibly high. But I stuck with it, and in the end, I became stronger than I was, I experienced something new, I accomplished my audacious goal.
My Run time was 5:57:03
My Finishing time was 15:51:43
Bib/division/name age/sex swim T1 bike T2 run finish
97 F25-29 Loni O'Neil 28 F USA 1:35:52 10:49 7:58:23 9:36 5:57:03 15:51:43
I AM IRONMAN
We came home and I was in charge of our Early Childhood PTA family party
We offered Pony Rides at the party
William and Grant played that they were going to school, didn't quite realize that everyone else in the world is just getting done with the school year
Almost got a photo with all four boys smiling (don't look too closely at Mikey's face, I took a gazillion photos and this one has the highest percentage of boys looking and smiling)
Played in a creek with our friends
Almost got a photo with all four boys smiling (don't look too closely at Mikey's face, I took a gazillion photos and this one has the highest percentage of boys looking and smiling)
Played in a creek with our friends
