Run a marathon (26.2 miles)
I had begun running without thinking, because the girl in front of me ran out of the changing tent, and I followed suit. Once I was running, I found it wasn't bad. I was tired, sure, but my legs felt pretty okay. I focused on quick turnover, just trying to keep my legs moving and not force myself to go quickly. I remembered what Amy had said about how you'd feel really good at first, and go out too fast. She said it didn't sound likely, but that that's generally how it worked. So I just focused on cadence and adjusting to running. I came to an aid station pretty immediately and walked through it, drinking water and Gatorade. I had decided that I would walk through every aid station, to make sure that I got what I needed and had time to drink it, and to give my legs a break, but otherwise I'd try to run at all other times, until that was no longer an option.
As soon as I was out of the tent and running, I realized I'd made an awful mistake.. I hadn't applied any bodyglide. Mostly it was probably okay that I hadn't, but I knew, given how sweaty I already was, that my armpits and the surrounding region would probably chafe VERY badly over the course of 26 miles without any protection. I didn't want to go back, so I hoped that the aid stations would have something I could use, and kept running.
At the mile 1 marker, I glanced at my watch just to see where I stood. In general I wasn't planning on looking at my watch on the run, but curiousity got the better of me. And I'm glad I did, because it said 9:50, and I realized that Amy was completely right (hi, Amy!) and that I was going out way too fast, even though I was consciously trying not to. So I started trying to slow down. I didn't notice anyone offering Vaseline or other lube-type products at that water stop. I grew more concerned.
Then at the second waterstop, I actually asked if they had vaseline, and sure enough it was on one of the tables. I'd never tried using vaseline to prevent chafing before, but I smeared it all over my upper under arms and hoped for the best. And.. then my hands were coated in Vaseline. Mmm. At this point, between the sweat, the snot, the salt (from sweating), the lakemuck, and the Vaseline, I wasn't entirely sure I'd ever truly be clean again.
We ran by our run special needs bags just after the first mile, and had the option to get them, but I figured the Vaseline would hold me over, and I couldn't think of anything else I needed so early in the run.
The run course followed roughly the same area as the bike course, out through neighborhoods and onto CdALR. I saw tons of folks out there.. Rich, who we'd seen at packet pickup, Gary, Jack. I saw Matt coming in as I was going out, and gave him a big hug and made sure he was feeling better, which he was, which made me very happy. The spectators were still enthusiastic and crazy, and they loved cheering for Texas. I had to figure out how to do a hook'em horns hand sign, 'cause it had been so long since I last did it, my first one included my thumb, in the international sign for Rocking Out. I probably hooked'em horns about 20 more times over the course of the run. And woohooed at people cheering for Texas, for Texas Iron, for Austin (from those who were also from the area). In exchange, I cheered for a lot of Texas Iron, Jack and Adams, Austin TriCyclist, and Austin Triathletes folks, even if they were strangers. There was just a lot of solidarity out there. I also got hugs and cheers from the non-strangers.. Amy, Ginny, Cam, Katherine, Michelle, Jeremy, Scott and many others. Jamie, Jen and Julia were out cheering on the run course, lining up for high fives each time.
I felt really good out there, and strong. Running felt good. It was a little hard to run past the mileage signs that were there for the second loop.. seeing that 20 mile sign and being only on the first loop was just a little sad, but I tried to appreciate how good it would feel to see it the next time.
Elmo was out now on the run course, and I high-fived him (well, her, it was a female wearing the costume). There was the Inspiration Mile, where they put up all the signs that spectators and fans had made in the previous days, cheering on their athletes. I saw one guy high-five a sign that said something like "Go, Irondad!", and I asked if he was Irondad, and he said he was. It was so sweet.
Teri, Ginny's friend and Idaho housemate, passed me on the run, and I ran with her briefly. She was going a little faster than I was comfortable going, so I told her I had to slow down, and she ran ahead. That kept happening for a while, where I'd catch up to her, then she'd get ahead of me again. We discussed how good we both felt, and how we were both, on some level, waiting for the badness to begin; how we felt that this good feeling couldn't possibly last, but were trying not to jinx ourselves.
I stopped and used the portapotty, since I hadn't in a while, and it was utterly vile, but refreshing nonetheless. When I came out, I overheard someone saying to their running partner that it was just to the top of the hill, then there was the turnaround. I had been under the impression that the run course went all the way out to where the bike course had turned around, at Higgins Point. The top of the hill was so very much closer than that, but I didn't dare to hope it was true. Then when I got to the top of the hill, sure enough there was the turnaround! I was so happy, and happy to be headed back into town.
On the way back down CdALR, they have a timing mat that you run over, and then a message board up ahead. If someone has left you a message, running over the mat will make your message come up on the screen. I didn't think anyone would have left me a message, but when I ran over it, sure enough a message came up for me! It said something like "Amy B., it's rrrrrrace day!" I wondered who sent it. I actually still wonder! I suspect it's Amy, but I keep forgetting to ask. Amy? Was it you? Whoever it was is AWESOME, because it thrilled me to have a message! I hoped that Matt had seen the one I left for him (but I later found out he didn't, or for some reason it didn't go up on the screen).
Speaking of Matt, as I was running back in, he was running out on his second loop, and we high-fived, said we loved each other, and he said he was proud of me, and said I had no idea how awesome I was doing. Another big boost. And it also became my subconscious goal not to let him lap me. Not that I did anything differently because of it, but I still didn't want it to happen.
Finally made it back into the residential section, and had to sadly go off to the right, to the "second loop" section instead of the "finish line" section. Many people were finishing their second loop, so a lot of the spectators were yelling "almost done!" and "congratulations!" to all the runners, including me. That was rough, since.. I wasn't almost done. But I still smiled and thanked them and cheered. I also danced a few times with people who were blasting music, and the crowds loved that. I had to do something, since I didn't have my arm warmers to please the crowds anymore.
Made it back to the halfway point, yay! And then as I approached what had been the first aid station, my stomach started to feel kinda.. unwell. I realized I needed a portapotty stop, and stopped at the next one I found. Had some intestinal distress, and some emotional distress when I realized that there was no toilet paper. But there was a section of looked-unused toilet paper lying on the back of the portapotty, and desperate times call for desperate measures, and it doesn't get much more desperate than that, so I used it. Tried to get out of there as quickly as possible, and then hit the aid station next to the portapotty. I realized I hadn't eaten for a while, and wondered if that might be causing problems. I decided to try out a gu. I tore the top off with my teeth, and gagged at just having the metallic piece between my teeth, then gagged while eating the gu. I had this moment of panic, since most Ironman race reports I've seen involve vomiting in some way, often for many miles and causing an inability to take in any food, which generally leads to weakness and walking and suffering, etc. But I got the gu down, washed it down with some water, and started running again, hoping for the best.
All of that had taken a few minutes, so Teri had gotten ahead of me again. I came upon her suddenly, and found her walking. She was also having stomach issues, and I joked about how we HAD jinxed ourselves! I was still feeling well enough to run, though, so I carried on and told her I hoped she started feeling better soon. "Peaks and valleys! You're in a valley now, but it'll get better soon." By the time I passed another aid station and portapotty, I was feeling much better, and then I came to special needs again. This time I did stop and get my bag.
I replenished the gus in my pack, so that I had 4 again. Theoretically I should have had none left at that point in my pack, but I hadn't been eating as much as I planned. I HAD been drinking more Gatorade than I planned, though, and had taken the flat cola from the aid station a few times.
Right sock had been bunching up at my little toe for the last few miles, and I could feel it blistering, so I decided to go ahead and change my socks. I figured not only would that help my feet feel better, but just having clean socks would probably give me an emotional boost, too. So I sat and changed socks, and Amy ran by me (finally, and I didn't realize it at the time, but the reason she had taken so long to pass me, even though she's way faster than I am in general, is that she'd broken a bone in her hand during the swim, but had KEPT RACING). She dug in her special needs bag and got what she needed and took off, like a normal person would do (a non-retarded-when-confronted-with-bags person). As she ran off, I cheered her on and called her a super badass runner or something, and she called out "Gilbert fast!" in return. Before taking off, I put more bodyglide under my arms, and took some immodium in hopes that I would have no more stomach problems. Chewable immodium is vile. Oh, and I tied my long-sleeved shirt around my waist, because it was getting darker and colder, and I figured I'd need it eventually. Then I set out for my last half marathon.
New socks, stomach medicine, a new lease on life. The crowds cheered and I smiled, and so many people in the crowd said things like "Great smile!" and "It's great that you're still smiling!" Looking at the faces around me, I could see why they'd say that. So many people at that point had gone into survival mode. Walking, limping, hobbling, staring at the ground, not looking at the crowd. I felt somewhat guilty that I was running past them and smiling at the crowd and woohooing and whatnot. I tried to say encouraging things about how close we were, but they weren't always acknowledged or well-received. As I ran by so many people walking, I thought of Jay again, who'd told me so many people blow up on the bike and have nothing left for the run. And I thought of Julia, who'd run her whole Ironman marathon, and I decided that was my goal. I mean, I'd walk all the aid stations, but otherwise.. I was halfway done, I could run the other half, as long as I kept feeling good like I still was.
Now all those signs that I'd been coveting earlier WERE for me. I WAS at mile 20. Only 10k to go, and that's so doable. I was very tempted at mile 20 to look at my watch, to try to predict, based on what I could run a slow 10k in, what my finish time could be. But I didn't want to look. I was doing what I was capable of doing, what I was comfortable doing, and I didn't want to look and say "Oh! If I run it this fast, I can beat this time!" I'd finish when I finished, and I was now sure I'd finish before the cut-off.
I decided to finally try the chicken broth they offered at each aid station, and was disappointed. It wasn't all I hoped it would be. But it was salty, and that's the point. It didn't clear the taste of the immodium out of my mouth, though. Nothing did.. water, Gatorade, gu, broth, cola.. ick. Meanwhile, it was becoming abundantly clear why Amy and Katherine had talked about wanting to brush their teeth in an Ironman (and putting Brushups in special needs) (which I did, but I never used them). My teeth were coated in film and fuzz. I'd been out there eating miscellaneous stuff all day, and it was pretty gross. And it was getting dark. I finally put my sunglasses up on my head.
I stopped to pee a couple times during the last 10k. I felt like I had to pee, and that peeing might make me more comfortable, but it didn't really seem to help. So finally I just decided to live with that feeling. It was more annoying than detrimental.
I started seeing people with space blankets (those silver metallic sheets), and wondered where they were getting them. I decided to put on my long-sleeved shirt. Then I found the blankets at the next aid station. Then I started seeing people with glow-necklaces, and wondered where they got THEM. I kept feeling kinda ripped off that everyone else was getting stuff, and nobody was offering it to me in a timely fashion. :)
I got back to the hill that leads to the turnaround on CdALR. I ran up the hill. Of the 20 or so people I saw on the hill, there was one other person who ran up it. Barely anyone even ran DOWN it. I was passing all those people who passed me on the bike, and I was feeling great. And guilty that I was feeling great. But still feeling great. All I had to do was run back into town and I'd be done. I allowed myself to start to think about the fact that I was going to do this. I was going to be an Ironman. I staved off the crying again. Too soon.
Back through the neighborhoods, and many people having parties out in their yards, obviously drunk. I danced some more with some people blaring music. I snuck up on Jamie and company, because I had covered my TxFe singlet with a long-sleeved shirt and they didn't see me coming, but I still got my high-fives. It was dark at this point, and there were stretches of road where nobody was cheering, then I'd hear cheering from the side of the road and couldn't even see anyone there.
Suddenly I remembered my promise to Robyn to dedicate miles to things. It was pretty late in the game, so it would have to be the final miles, but that seemed appropriate. I had promised Robyn I'd dedicate a mile of my Ironman to her. And it had to be a good mile, not one that sucked. And she said I had to dedicate one to queso. First I had to find a mile marker to figure out what I had left.. and then I saw the marker for mile 23.
Mile 23: Dedicated to queso. One of my very favorite foods, and the reason I do all this crazy crap. So I can justify eating so much queso. Only a little over a 5k to go. A volunteer handed me a glow necklace and told me I had to wear it.
Mile 24: Dedicated to Robyn. I spent some time reflecting on how much she'd helped me in my training, often forsaking whatever it was she was supposed to be doing to do what I was supposed to be doing. Sending me mail and calling me and encouraging me and having psychoses so very similar to my own. I even blew an unnecessary snot rocket in her honor (it helped that it was dark, so nobody could see me do it). And I said "Thank you, Robyn" out loud in the dark as I approached the mile 25 marker.
Mile 25: Dedicated to me. I was 1.2 miles from the finish line. I was going to do this. I was going to finish an Ironman. I could barely remember the swim at that point, it had happened so long ago. A lifetime ago. I was seriously going to do this. It was almost inconceivable. And I finally let myself cry. I was so happy. I was so proud of myself. Normally I'm a fairly self-deprecating person, with a lot of confidence problems, but I truly let myself feel pride and contentment during that mile. I think I talked out loud to myself during mile 25, but I don't even remember what I said. I felt so good, so strong. I picked it up and started running faster. Everyone around me, which wasn't all that many people, was walking. Trudging up the hill as I dashed past them. The spectators were commenting on my pace and my smile, and I told them I was having the time of my life. And I was. I was beaming from ear to ear.
I wasn't sure exactly where the mile 26 marker was, but near the end, I dedicated the last roughly 0.2 miles to Matt. I considered dedicating it to Suva, because she always makes me smile, but then I decided Matt smelled better. Well, generally. Maybe not at that exact moment, since he'd just completed an Ironman. But I dedicated it to Matt, because I wouldn't have been where I was without him.
A volunteer told me to turn the corner, and it was just a couple blocks down, I'd be able to see it. And I could. Bright lights and arches and tons of people. The moment I turned the corner, people sitting on the curb in the dark started cheering and clapping and waving their little light-up clapping devices. I remembered that I was wearing my long-sleeved shirt, and I wanted to cross the finish line a Texas Iron athlete, so I took off the shirt. At first I tried to find someone I knew to give it to, but it was too dark to see faces. I almost just threw it on the side of the road, but it was my Decker 2006 shirt, and I didn't want to lose it. So I tied it around my waist. I started running faster. And grinning. I nearly fell for the old False Timing Mat trick again, then realized the first timing mat was to tell Mike Reilly who was approaching the finish line. I high-fived people holding out their hands in the finish chute. I heard Mike Reilly say my name. I heard Matt yell "Go, Amy!!!" I made sure that nobody else was going to cross at the same time I was (I thought I saw someone behind me, but if they were, they were polite enough not to pass me, and hung back so I could cross alone), I saw the volunteers pull the finish tape across after the person who crossed before me, and I ran across the finish line, an Ironman, arms up in the air, huge smile on my face. I saw the flash of the camera taking my finish line photo.
I was an Ironman.
