I had a very, very enjoyable swim. I had hoped for a 1:45, swimming not being my strong suit by any stretch of the imagination, so when I came out of the water and a volunteer told me I was at 1:42, I knew the day was off to a good start. I'd like to do a future IM swim in 1:20. That's a lofty goal for me, but attainable.
On the bike, I knew that my only two tasks were to finish it before the cutoff and be prepared to run a marathon. With this in mind, I kept my heart rate low, in a high zone 2, zone 3 on the hills, let (most) people pass me as they desired without letting my competitive side take charge, and finished it in 7 hours with a smile on my face. Next Ironman, I would like to do a 6:15 bike. Again, it will take some work to do this and still have legs to run on, but I know can do it.
Going through T2, I noticed that a stomach ache that had developed on the bike was quickly growing. As I headed out on the run, it began to feel like Satan himself was hunkered down just under my ribs, and I knew I was in trouble. I had struggled with a similar stomach ache just one week prior, on my last little brick, and had chalked it up to the Perpetuem I used that day being bad. I had mixed it the week prior, decided I didn't need it that day, then stored it in the fridge as I didn't want to waste it (expensive stuff, Perpetuem). Other than that, perpetuem worked fine during training, so I had every reason to believe that a freshly mixed cocktail would get me through the bike with no difficulties. Um, no.
What you see here is me returning from NIC on my first lap of the run. What you don't see is the Perpetuem micro-brewery in my stomach, creating a gas bubble that would stubbornly lodge itself under my ribs for the next 24 miles. Tim and Andrea Swanson stopped to encourage me during one elbows-on-knees-please-God-let-this-pass-I'll-never-whine-about-anything-ever-again moment, and I so appreciate them allowing me to be candid about exactly what I needed to do right then.
I'm including this picture because I chuckle every time I think of it. I was turning blue by mile 8 or so, and finally accepted a mylar blanket at an aid station. Wrapping it around me like a shawl, I proceeded to run the remainder of the race with this parachute. I've certainly never run a marathon with a blanket wrapped around me before. It did the trick, though, and I managed to stay reasonably dry and warm despite nature's best attempts at foiling my race. I learned during this race that I can endure a kick-ass stomach ache AND rain AND wind AND cold for 26 miles, something I would have doubted just 9 hours earlier.
Before I get to the finish line, I need to pause to acknowledge the amazing support team that schlepped around the course all day, braving wind and rain and general unpleasantness to watch me do this very non-spectator-friendly sport. Thanks, of course, Shawn and Kellie, my number one fans, who were severely neglected (and sometimes, perhaps, verbally abused when I was particularly owly) during the course of my training, but also to my mom and dad, my sister Paula, Jonas, Scott, Jeri, Kourtney, and Madisen, Mike, Kelli, Ryann, and Taylor, Phaedra, Shelby, and Aaron for being my primary support crew. Thanks to the many friends I spotted who also braved the weather to watch the race, including (but I know not limited to--and I'm sorry if I don't mention your name--please know I appreciate ALL of you!) Tricia and Jane, Jeanne and Hailey, Colleen and family, many friends from work, and the many members of the Tri-Fusion triathlon club. It was so much fun to ride and run and wonder, When will I see them next?! And to those of you following me from home, I am so, so grateful for your kindness and support.
Tricia and Jane, your photo wins the Iron-y Prize: a squirt bottle, as promised, to spray me when I came by on the run. Mother Nature had me covered, didn't she? Literally.
And here's Shawn, greeting me at the finish line. I finished the run in 4:41, or was it 4:42? Whatever, I intend to finish my next in 4:20 or less, stomach aches be damned. To everyone in the stands and nearby, I must tell you how grateful I am that you weren't scared by the cold and rain. There is no experience comparable to running through that finish chute. The crowds on Sherman Avenue make everyone feel as if they've just won the entire race.
So, it's all said and done, the stomach ache is gone, the bike is resting peacefully in the garage, the Perpetuem is in the trash. What I should not be surprised by, but nevertheless AM surprised by, is that the finish line has the magical ability to erase all memories of missed parties and activities and sleep, entire weekends filled with training rides and runs, abstinence from sweets and treats and most other good things in life, and stomach aches that made me wanna cry. If I can figure out a way to do it without actually being at the '09 race, I will register in August for Ironman Canada, 2010, and I'll do this thing all over again. In the meantime, I will run my yearly marathon in September, I hope (Bismarck, North Dakota? Perhaps...that would be state #11). I'm hoping to find the ever-elusive holy grail of 3:30, and since there are no hills in North Dakota, that should be possible, right? That's what I thought in South Dakota, too, and only managed to pull off a 3:32. Sigh. Once again, it's a strange interpretation of the word "fun" but well understood by those who do this wacky sport. Stay tuned.
