Tyler was right. "You'll see people weaving on their bikes in a daze, puking on the side of the road, being hauled away in ambulance," he went on to explain. We all laughed as we sat in the comfort of the poolside of our hotel in Penticton, Canada. But there was a serious side to what he described I would be facing and what I did on the 30th of August, the day after my birthday.
Ironman Canada (IMC) is the longest running Ironman event outside of the hometown original in Hawaii. Running for its 27th year, it's easily one of the most popular and well known events in the sport of triathlon. It brings nearly 2600 athletes from all over the world to compete in a course that spans 140.6 miles miles over lake and land. Climbing over 6,500 feet in 90+ degree heat across a mountain pass and rolling hills, it's not an easy course.
The days leading up to my first Ironman were worrisome. Just days before I started feeling congested and slightly under the weather. After a year of training hard and beyond anything I'd ever done before and thousands of dollars in expenses, that wasn't what I had hoped for. I tried to stay positive and remembered why I was there and hoped I would get over the cold that I had been battling.
What makes it hard though is that I had done what you call tapering in the weeks up to Ironman. Tapering is essentially the lessening of your total workouts so that by the time you actually do such a damaging event like an Ironman your body is both sharp and rested. That's easier than it sounds - rest too much and you'll feel dull and lethargic, but work out too hard and you might not finish on race day. On top of my cold my body felt a sense of urgency to get out and push hard in workouts to prove to myself I could do it... fighting those urges is a mental wargame that dogs you day and night.
We had come to Penticton on the 27th to give enough time to rest, feel the course, and prep for the race. It sounds like having a few extra days would be plenty of downtime but every day was filled with activity, be it buying groceries for race day, stopping by the Bike Barn for last minute racing needs, or registering for the race and getting my packet and the bracelet that I would wear every day I was in Canada to identify I was an athlete in the race.
Truth be told, an Ironman isn't even about the day of the race or crossing he finish line. No, for me (and many others), an Ironman is a journey that started long before the 30th of August. I trained for a year for an event that would come and go in 15 hours on a single day. No, an Ironman is a long place off in the sunset and it'd be unfair to simply talk about the race.
Most of you know my story by now. By the time I had signed up for Ironman the furthest I'd ever run was 12 miles in one stretch. I'd never swam a 25 yard lap in my life, and had struggled my way through one 100 mile bike ride (a century) earlier in the year, not long after getting my first bike since I was a kid. Sitting by the poolside in Penticton I'd done exactly one sprint triathlon before (half mile swim, 12 mile bike, and 5K run). Maybe I was a bit crazy, but I like pushing myself :) I hadn't even intended to sign up for Ironman when I went to go watch it in 2008 with my buddy Robin who had done it twice before. I had become so inspired by the amazing stories and achievements that brought tears to my eyes watching the event unfold that I knew I had to do it. And so it was that this whole crazy thing started.
Throughout last winter I took swim lessons and ramped up my running. I started pushing my biking harder than I ever had before, envisioning a race that was a year off at the time. My training started at a very simple 8 hours a week which included running in the snow, ice, and rain. Days that I didn't feel like going and doing anything I forced myself. I injured my foot early in the year and had to back off running for a bit... it was hard to back off, but I remember saying, "well the race is still almost 9 months off."
It wasn't long until I was swimming a mile in the pool, but still hadn't touched a lake and didn't quite grasp that it was different. I still didn't even have a wetsuit. I was doing long runs well (but maybe not easily) and my cycling was starting to come into swing. Pretty soon my training weeks went from 8 hours to about 15 hours in a steady crescendo known as periodization training. Essentially every month was broken into 3 weeks of incrementally more difficult and longer training intervals with more frequent workouts followed by a week of light workout and recovery. Each week of the hard training sets gave me one rest day. Lather, rinse, repeat. The recovery weeks were like a drip of water in a dry desert - both physically and mentally.
My first swim in the open water was worrisome. I got horribly seasick and that was troubling, but I stayed positive and kept trying. Soon I could swim longer than before without getting sick, provided the water wasn't too rough. Later in the summer I signed up for a 3.2 mile swim called the Fat Salmon here in Seattle's Lake Washington, but ended up only getting to 2.5 miles before the choppy waters got me too sick to continue. I ended up throwing up my wonderful oatmeal breakfast in the lake before being pulled. That day I hoped the waters on my race day in Canada would be smoother.
By early August I was training over 20 hours a week in addition to work and life. I was worn down and tired in every way you can imagine. At that point I was riding mountain passes around the perimeter of Seattle nearly every week and doing multiple century rides throughout the week. On Sunday mornings I would get up early and run up to 20 miles no matter what the weather had in store for me.
You do the race you train for is what they say. The hope is that you train so hard that by the time your hit race day your event is, well, relatively easy so to speak. By the time I started tapering I was destroyed. The damage in my muscles was deep and my mind needed some time to recover.
On top of that the family was ready. Training for an Ironman isn't just about you... the family and friends that make it possible have to give 100% to make it happen. Bev was a saint and struggled alongside of me through tough times where family had to play second string to my training. That's not easy for anyone and my wife deserved so much from me that at times I just wasn't able to give. The light bulb in our master bedroom closet must have stayed burned out and unchanged for 3 months because I was simply too tired or other things were simply too pressing at the moment. I stopped blogging in April because something had to give. A lot of things "gave". A lot of things went on pause and I can't tell you how awesome my wife and son were in supporting me. It was never easy and it wasn't always fun, but we all did it together. The spouses of Ironman should all get a medal on race day.
What I didn't do? I didn't buy a tri bike. I wish I had, but I tried to do this with a focus more on the "engine" more than anything else. It's safe to say that my big heavy aluminum commuter bike, which I did at least outfit with an aero cockpit didn't do me any favors on race day, but it'll make me appreciate a nice TT bike come my next Ironman :)
And it wasn't long until I was sitting at the poolside talking with Tyler, who is a friend of my buddy Robin. Robin had done Ironman twice before and had dragged me up to watch the event with him last year when I signed up. Tyler had done it five times before if you can imagine that.
Pretty soon it wasn't months until Ironman. It wasn't weeks. It was days. Days until I would be standing in the water before the horn would go off to start racing. I wondered where the time went. It all seemed like a blur.
Bev, Cole and I were lucky enough to have my Mom and sister come in for the event, flying in from Ohio. After training so hard and so long for something it was so special to have my family there with me. It was unfortunate but my Dad couldn't make it in, but he made sure to call every hour to check in :)
My friends Patti and Lorinda also made the trek up and had signed up to volunteer on race day as strippers (ahaha, wet suit stripping you guys, sheesh) and body markers. It was great to have friends there to cheer me on too.
Ah, and that cold I had. That sucked. The next morning I went swimming with Robin down at Lake Okenagan to get a feel for the water. We went late in the morning and a mighty wind had come through, chopping up the water quite a bit. I swam a half mile and probably couldn't do anymore without losing it. Once again I worried about the water on race day. I hoped it would be calm.
Later in the day Robin, Cole and I all rode our bikes on the marathon course on an easy ride. Of course I say easy, but there were a few times that Robin saw some rabbits (ie. other cyclists) and decided he wanted to show off an blow them away, which we did :) We blew by them like we had rockets loaded up on our bikes. Thanks Robin. BTW, it's a beautiful course. Absolutely gorgeous.
You have a few bags that you pack up for Ironman. Transition bags (swim to bike and bike to run) and special needs bags that you can stash things in that you get around halfway between the ride and run. The day before the race I had to drop off my bike and transition bags, so things like helmets and shoes all had to get set up the day before, but food and drinks could wait until race morning.
When I took my bike in for drop off it hit me: I'm going to do an Ironman. I teared up with emotion looking around. Thousands of bikes, volunteers all around, and athletes of all shapes and sizes abound. It was remarkable and inspiring. I was here with them.
I tried to get the layout of the transition area done: where I would come in from the swim, the bike, and leave for the run. There's a lot that sits on your mind that you wonder about. When would I put my helmet on? What about my cycling shoes? How would I feel? Would I need to eat something my bag? Would it be hot? It's overwhelming to be honest.
Afterwards Bev and the gang and I all went on a long drive on the bike course. In total it took us 3 hours to drive the 112 mile course and create a strategy for Bev, Cole, Theresa, and my Mom on race day to see me. Spectating Ironman isn't easy at all and with road closures, delays, and thousands of athletes out on the course, you have to plan ahead or else you won't see your loved ones. Don't underestimate this step if you decide to do Canada!
I waited until the last half of the day before the race to pack food and special needs bags, which in retrospect was the wrong thing to do for my first Ironman. I just agonized over each and every detail and got all worked up getting everything ready. Not having done an Ironman before I stuffed my special needs bags with tons of food and crap. I had everything in them. Drinks, Oreos, pretzels, potato chips, bars, gels, sunscreen, lotions, microwave ovens, air conditioning units, and cute and fuzzy animals to play with in case I was bored. Okay so the last three I left behind...
Bev and Cole were so helpful that night. They helped prep food, get bags ready, get lotions into plastic baggies, get everything labeled. Again, I can't thank Bev and Cole enough for how much they helped. Doing this ordeal for the first time, I was all worked up and they both did everything they could to get everything down to plan for me. Cole ran everything out to the cars that night and it was time for bed.
It wasn't until 9:30 at night that I finished up packing my bags and feeling like I had everything ready. Later than I wanted to stay up, and of course I was all sweaty. Heh. It took me a few hours to fall asleep that night as I sat in bed with visions of racing day running through my head.
The next thing I knew it was 4AM and my alarm was going off. 3 hours until start time and I had breakfast to eat! I put down 4 packets of instant oatmeal with walnuts, honey, blueberries, and peanut butter along with some fresh fruit I'd bought at the market the day before. I didn't feel like eating but I made myself consume the calories despite the churning in my tummy.
I donned my tri-suit. I single piece skin tight suit that would be on me all day, underneath my wetsuit, underneath my bike shorts, and then finally being with me on the run. I had bought some of those fancy $80 compression socks while up there that are supposed to help lessen fatigue in your legs. Fashion be damned I was going to do an Ironman!
We'd loaded up the cars the night before so we wouldn't have much to worry about on race day. That was a good call. In the dark hours of a Penticton summer morning we drove our way down to the waterfront. Athletes and their families wandered down the street like hordes of zombies towards the start and body marking area, bags thrown over the shoulders and wetsuits in hand.
You know what? I was going to do an Ironman. Holy crap.
Getting around the athlete only areas is difficult with family. Streets are blocked off, whole sections can't be moved through like barricades that seem to only make it more difficult to actually get going with the event at hand. I took 100lbs of my special needs bags stuffed to the brim with food into the athlete chute where I dropped everything off and did my body markings. Bib number 464 written above both knees and my age on the back of knee. I'd been tagged like cattle and the race start was fast approaching.
I took my bike pump back to where my trusty steed sat and topped off my tires and dropped off food. Then I realized I had made a horrible, horrible mistake. Hole. Eeee. @$%^@. I'd forgotten my @$%@ goggles!
I stared in disbelief at my bag with my wetsuit in a mildly approaching panic. 40 minutes until race start and I had no goggles. Houston? We have a problem.
I got everything set in teh race area then quickly made my way out to Bev and delivered the news. She reassured me "okay, I'll go get the goggles". My poor wife, she looked so strong and confident as she played out the scenario in her head and knew it was a strong possibility she simply wouldn't make it in time for the race. The car was about 10 minutes away and the time would be tight and both she and I knew it. I was moments away from walking from one athlete to another asking if they had extra goggles. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten them.
In a last minute effort I called Robin and asked if he had a second set of goggles with him. he didn't Damnit. It was then I remembered my friends were staying on the strip and would have some goggles with them. The stars must have been aligned because Robin was standing right next to Patti! He handed over the phone and the next thing you knew, she was running sub-8 minute miles to her hotel room to grab me goggles! It wasn't long until she showed up with not one but two pair for me to try on! Thanks Bev and Patti :) You guys saved my Ironman from myself.
I put on the wetsuit over my rather dashing red tri-suit and walked towards the music by the lake. The thumping of the speakers and the roar of the crowds and people was overwhelming as I walked out onto the beach. A year before I'd stood on the shores as a spectator and now I was racing an Ironman. I cried. I couldn't help it. I took a deep breath and walked along the shore looking for my family. I saw them cheering me on holding up a sign they'd secretly made for me. Just looking into their eyes I broke down and cried again. the emotions... ahhh... I can't describe them. Overwhelming. Happy. Just so much.
Soon the crowd died down as O' Canada was sung to start the race. I walked into the water, side by side with some of the world's best athletes and some of the biggest dreamers. People like me. People I admire. People who overcame something. People who conquered. I don't know all their stories, but I'm sure each and every one of them could bring a tear to your eyes. Sister Madonna, the 79 year old Catholic nun was racing that day alongside of me. She's one of the reasons I signed up in the first place, having watched her a year before and being so inspired by her accomplishments. The stories and dreams sit thick in the air and you can feel the energy running through your veins. There's nothing like it. They mean more than any single event. The tears swelled in my goggles. I was going to race this thing and to top it off... the water was calm.
The next thing I knew the race started and I heard Coldplay playing in the background along with the road of the crowd. Ironman Canada is a huge event. Tens of thousands spectate. Over 6000 volunteers. It's a massive thing to watch unfold and I was part of it.
And like that I walked out along the sand bar until finally I could start swimming. Triathlons like the Ironman are a mass start, meaning you and 2600 of your closest friends literally start kicking and flopping around in the water at the same time. It's a great opportunity to lose a tooth, get kicked in the head or gut, or swim right over another person. I tried my best to avoid injury and still make good time and followed the bobbing heads and flailing arms around the 2.4 mile course. Helicopters above, canoes and lifeboats everywhere, you are surrounded by anxious energy.
Robin swam for the UW and is an incredible athlete and he started at the front of the swim pack. Me? Not so much. I stayed back, which seemed a good strategy for my first Ironman. The only downside to where I started is that I was far from the weakest swimmer and got slowed down passing others, but my swim time was among the best I'd ever done: 1 hour and 27 minutes.
When I popped out of the water onto the beach, the swell of the crowds thundering applause was overwhelming. I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear as I literally sprinted through the water onto the sandy beach as other swimmers slowly walked. I was too excited to walk. I'm doing an Ironman!
I saw Cole as I made my way in and the next thing I knew Patti and Lorinda bolted over to me to rip my wetsuit off! I put my fancy aero cosmonaut helmet on, bike shorts and shoes and ran to my bike. The next thing I knew I was hopping onto the bike and waving to my family (with another sign they'd secretly made for me!) as I road my way onto Main Street for the start of a long 112 mile journey.
Sadly I would later find out that an athlete died that morning on the swim portion of the race. Wally Wiwchar, a 66 year old man, passed away, becoming the first fatality in the 27 year history of Ironman Canada. My thoughts go out to Wally's family :( How terrible and sad the news was.
I took it easy on the bike and stayed with a very low heart rate for quite some time. I felt strong but more than anything I wanted to finish this Ironman so I didn't want to go too hard and then fizzle out. Add onto that some severe heat that went over 90 degrees and I played it safe but felt really good. It wasn't long before I was passing hordes of people and knew my training on the bike had paid off in spades. Even with keeping it easy I still was averaging 17 to 20 mph and that was good enough for me! Next Ironman I can push it :)
There are three main areas that people discuss ad nauseam are the following:
1. Richter Pass
2. The rollers
3. Yellow Lake
Richter Pass is the first major climb of IMC and it's probably the most famous. It's a long haul up through a mountain pass and is very exposed. The sun beats down on you like a chimp and it's just a slog. Thankfully my training on mountain passes and steep climbs here stateside really came through as I found it to be far easier than the rumor mill would lead you to believe. Of course the heat was a constant worry for me so I drank and drank and drank. Probably too much, but more on that later.
What drives you so much is the amazing support from spectators and volunteers. You simply cannot fathom how awesome everyone is. There is hardly a quarter mile that passed that someone didn't cheer me on and give me encouragement. It meant so much to me and I made sure I gave them a huge smile in return, which nearly everyone noticed "best smile I've seen in miles!" is something I heard many times throughout the day.
The rollers come after Richter. It's a set of hills with steep climbs and then steep, fast drops that come and go over the course of many miles. In some ways these are harder than Richter or Yellow Lake simply because you never can break into a rhythm. The course profile doesn't do them justice, but they're annoying... trust me. The best part is blowing down the backside of some of these things!
Unfortunately here's where the ambulances started really coming through. Accidents happen and people started to become beaten down. One guy had wrecked coming down a roller going 40mph on his bike and was being lifted away in an ambulance. Others pulled over to the side of the road, exhausted or dehydrated. Some finished and carried on while others succumbed. It's sad to see, but you knew it would be there and you hoped you wouldn't join them. Tyler's armageddon comment was coming true.
Before Yellow Lake there's odd little out and back ride that you do that exists only to make sure you get the full 112 mile experience. It's here I wasted plenty of time that I could have easily cut out as it was where my special needs bag was. I seriously wasted so much time going through my bag, eating and enjoying myself. I had fun, but in retrospect, I could have cut up to 20 - 30 minutes here that I simply didn't need. I wasn't hurting at this point, felt strong, and could have carried on, but... lessons learned, right?! :)
One awesome thing is that one of the volunteers put new sunscreen on me and then took my arm warmers and later delivered them back to my hotel for me. Man, how awesome is that?! Michelle - you are a godsend and I really appreciate it. It was above and beyond what was called for and it just shows you how awesome the volunteers are on the course! Okay, so after wasting plenty of time here I got back on the bike smiling and made my way onto the next climb.
Finally Yellow Lake is a steep but short climb and is easily the most painful. By this time it's full on sun blasting and because it's slow going up the side of this monster you feel every degree of the 90+ degree heat melting your skin. Here I saw many other people simply get off the bike and never restart the race, hands buried against their face in tears. Again, sad moments, but I smiled the biggest smile I had for everyone who cheered me on with such gusto you'd think it was The Tour!
The best part is that after Yellow Lake you fly down back into Penticton. I haven't analyzed all my GPS data yet, but it's safe to say there were long stretches at 40+ MPH on that tiny little aluminum bike of mine. It was awesome!
You're not allowed to draft behind other riders in a time trial, but I saw plenty of other people cheat and do this when race officials weren't around. This was disappointing. I had trained extensively over the past year to not take advantage of drafting and was happy to say I did it all legit. I also noticed quite a few people litter outside of areas where there was trash collection. That was upsetting only because it was extremely dangerous to have half full water bottles roll in front of your bike as you tore down a hill. I hope nobody got into a serious accident because of someone else's laziness.
And finally, 7 hours after I started, I finished the bike. Exactly in the time I had planned for so I was extremely happy! Looking back I could have done 6 hours with relative little risk simply by pushing a little higher heart rate and cutting out my special needs time, but I was so focused on finishing and enjoying every minute that I wasn't willing to risk that. I'm so happy to have smiled through everything on that bike ride but I can see where I'll be working to improve for my next one!
And then... the run. After doing my transition (again, thanks volunteers!!!), I felt awesome. I blew out of the tent and onto the course running sub 9 minute miles. I felt fantastic!...
For 3 miles.
Suddenly, and inexplicably, at mile 3 on the run everything stopped going to plan. My plan had been a 4:30 to 5 hour marathon time and nothing in my training would suggest this would be out of reach... except for the absence of the conditions that day and the heat. At mile 3 I suddenly was ready to vomit every single calorie in my stomach all over the course. Sorry for the gory detail :)
I stopped running and caught my breath. I felt bile sitting right at the bottom of my throat and my stomach started churning. I stopped at an aid station and drank some Gatoraid. My stomach was having none of that. Even walking became hard with that Gatoraid going down so I stopped and thought of my options.
I had 23.2 miles in front of me and knew that if I ran I would throw up, possibly go into a tailspin, and possibly not finish. I thought of my buddy Robin telling me that on his last Ironman he cramped and was unable to run at all - he ended up walking the entire marathon course (ugh), but still ended up finishing with a respectable time just under 14 hours. I knew that my plan might not come together and simply recalculated a new plan right then and there and stayed positive.
I figured that at some point, somehow I'd be able to run again. I'd walk until I came to that point and I would try different foods at all the aid stations (a mile apart) until I found what it would take to level out my stomach. I tried running a few more times but it wasn't going to work.
And so I walked.
And I tried everything. Pretzels, more Gatoraid, Pepsi, bananas, oranges, chicken broth, gels, water, etc. What I found was that I could only stomach chicken broth. Now, this was both good and bad. Good because I could get some calories, but it's mostly sodium and wasn't helping much on the energy side of things. I figured I would eventually get to expand my horizons and sucked it up. I kept telling myself that only a bad attitude would stop me from finishing this and becoming an Ironman. I kept the smile going because it's really how I felt - sure, my plan was off, but deep inside my dream for a year was coming true. Becoming an Ironman was within reach!
I saw my family along the way at mile 5 or 6. I was still walking and explained that I couldn't run. I was smiling and my wife said I looked surprisingly great, but I ventured on! Finally around mile 6 or 7 I could start drinking Pepsi, which got some bubbles into my stomach and some calories. It wasn't long before I could start running again, although a short bit at a time.
And that pretty much was my night. I ran and walked and ran and walked. I took sponged from the aide stations put one in my hat and one in my tri-suit to that the cold water would keep my body temperature under control. With the stress of running and walking continually for so long my IT band on my left leg was a mess and it became painful to run.
Because I had been walking for so long, my half marathon time was 3 hours. Ouch! My feet were heavy and my left knee hurt like hell every time I tried to run, but I still did it. I knew I was going to suffer and it couldn't all be easy. This was that moment. You can give up and feel sorry for yourself, or you can suck it up, smile, and remind yourself why you're there. I was there to be an Ironman and the pain would eventually fade.
I ran.
I walked.
I ran in pain.
I walked in pain.
But I never stopped. Ever.
Eventually I could start taking gels, but I literally had to pee at every single rest stop every mile. Clearly I was hydrated, but I wonder if the heat and over hydration may not have been at play with my stomach issues. Analysis will come over the next few weeks, but suffice to say that the next time I do this I don't want to feel like I'm going to vomit when I run :)
Soon the sunset came, along with a haze of smoke from forest fires in other areas of Canada. My 4.5 - 5 hour marathon time was going to be 6 hours it looked like. I talked with another woman who was struggling along with me. We walked and ran together for somewhere along the lines of 8 miles or so. Sometimes I'd run by her and sometimes she'd run by me. As we got closer into town we just paced with each other and chatted.
When the city came into view something deep inside told me to run no matter what. Adrienne must have felt it too as we both started running, despite our feet, knees, and body telling us to stop. With two miles to go I ran the most painful and hardest two miles I've ever traveled in my life that didn't involve mountaineering.
Aid stations offered food and drink. I didn't stop. Nothing would stop me. I wasn't running on fumes. I was running on inspiration.
Bev and Cole ran beside me for a minute cheering me on. I teared up and could hear the music thumping down the street as we made the final turn that would take us to the finisher's chute. It's like a haze, but somewhere in that final stretch I must have been running 7 minute miles. My knee was screaming in agony and wanted to give out, but I knew I'd deal with that later.
I sprinted with a smile and my hands raised through the finisher's chute.
And then it was in that moment that I was no longer doing an Ironman.
I was an Ironman.
I had done it.
The roar of the crowd behind me. A year's journey taking me to this one place. It was amazing. Long rides. Family. Friends. Sacrifices. Pain. Frustration. Happiness. And drive. And there it was. All of a sudden somebody put a medal around my neck that told everyone I was an Ironman.
In some ways it was happy and sad. Something I had wanted for so long had happened. I hadn't failed. At 15 hours and 7 minutes I was within the high end of my estimate for what my time would be. No, I succeeded in every way and it felt wonderful.
I saw my family and cried on Bev's shoulder. The emotions were fast and furious at that point. They had pizza and drinks there for me but I simply couldn't eat the pizza no matter how hard I tried. And the last thing I wanted was Gatoraid after 15 hours of drinking it. Heh.
We all talked for a bit as I sat with a blanket wrapped around me before we headed back to the hotel where I ate some oatmeal (well, forced myself to eat it) before passing out. I was exhausted, but funny enough I woke up the next morning at 6AM sharp and was ready to head out to the gear store to buy Finisher's Gear! Well $600 later there I have plenty of crap that contributed to the Ironman Canada economy :)
I learned a lot. I learned a lot of thing I won't do again.
- I won't worry so much about bringing too much food because there's more than enough food and water on the course.
- I won't bother with special needs unless it truly is a disaster recovery situation. All told between the two special needs stations I probably could have cut 45 minutes at least on my time, even with the walk. That was just wasteful.
- Stay in your zones but if you feel like you can do more, don't be afraid to push a little. I probably could have done an extra 1 - 2 mph average on my bike in many places, which would have done a lot for my time over 112 miles :)
- Don't wait until late the night before to pack special needs if you do need things.
I learned a lot of things that I will do again:
- Stay positive. Remember why you're there.
- Smile. It makes you feel better. It makes volunteers feel good about why they're there. And the spectators notice it and feed off your energy.
- Put together a plan, but don't be afraid to put together a new plan if things don't come together for whatever reason.
- Remember that there are things you control, and things you don't control!
- Stay aero
- I loved the single piece tri suit and would do it again
- Taper and relax. Even if you feel you're relaxing too much, err on the side of relaxing :) I felt awesome on race day. Simply awesome.
- Ride your course and learn where your family will see you. It's something helpful for them and is something you look forward to.
And there it is. Long winded. Most won't make it here and that's fine. But for those who are thinking about doing an Ironman I went through a lot and it meant the world for me to put these thoughts down!
Finally, thanks to all of you who sent me kind words and messages throughout the days leading up to Ironman and the race itself. How inspiring you all were to me! I truly never felt alone. You guys were all simply stunning and brought tears to my eyes. Bev did an awesome job of keeping everyone up to date, and my Dad was constantly calling and providing them updates. That meant the world to me. Bev was amazing and I can't thank her enough. Thanks for Patti and Lorinda for being there to help me and supporting me! And thanks for those goggles :) Oh, and thanks to Michelle in Penticton, the volunteer who took my arm warmers and literally hand delivered them to my hotel for me. How awesome are you? Thanks to all the other volunteers and spectators.
Also, I can't tell you how much it meant to see Bev and my family along the way of the course. They energized and inspired me and made that smile even stronger.
Whew.
Sounds like an Oscar speech.
Oh, but guess what?
I'm an Ironman.
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