All of those long bike rides, very early morning workouts, 5am alarms, missed nights out, and a body that just felt tired much of the time . . . finally paid off. Not necessarily in hours and minutes on the clock, but in just being able to finish this event (with dignity!). Crossing that finish line took much more than the hours required to get through the event on race day. And just like anything that requires a little (or a lot) of effort, it was so sweet to taste the outcome.
Arriving in Florianopolis , Brazil for my first Ironman seemed like a journey that never would arrive at its destination. With so many unknowns, I was almost OK with that. Inside, I knew I could do this. I knew I’d finish, if only out of pure grit and stubbornness. But it was not without a great deal of hesitation and anxiety. The only analogy I can offer is the following: I felt like that American kid in Singapore several years back that was sentenced to a lashing!!
Once on the island, however, I felt invigorated. Florianopolis is gorgeous – truly a perfect setting. However, I experienced my first major challenge long before the gun went off. American Airlines decided to ship my luggage to Ecuador for 2 days, and I didn’t receive my bike for another day. They told me I’d receive $100 for “necessities,” so what does our soon-to-be Iron(wo)man buy first? She heads straight to the duty-free makeup counter! I guess I had more faith in the airlines than merited, because I figured my bags would arrive first thing in the morning (which didn’t) and I simply couldn’t be bothered w/ buying new running clothes! A good friend cracked me up when he said, “Jesus, you’re about to do an Ironman in 2 days, and you’re out getting ready for prom!!” Momma would be proud. . .
By Day 2, however, I was not having fun and was sick of my underwear, frankly. Nerves were at an all-time high, and I pretty much lost it. Just in time, my bags arrived, thank God.
My first encounter with the nearly 1200 participants convinced me that this could have easily been an international convention for those suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). Needless to say, I felt right at home!! I had never met so many people so . . . like myself!!
Fast forward: Race Day, 4am . Alarm goes off, but I’d already been awake nearly two hours. With the impending “lashing” only 3 hrs away, I was feeling a nervousness unlike anything I’d ever experienced. As planned, I read through the past 5 months’ training plan that I’d brought with me. I reviewed the number of 4-6hr bike rides, 15-20mile runs, and the consistency of my 6am swim sessions. So much time, effort, energy, and grit had gone into preparing for this day. Suck it up—you are ready! I glanced at the card signed by my co-workers, and the kind words of motivation from so many of my friends’ emails that I’d brought with me. I smiled and sent my sister a text msg (who was running a marathon that day): GAME ON!!!!
The Swim: 2.4 miles
An Ironman is unlike any other triathlon I’ve seen. The amount of organization required to pull off this event is enormous. Everything came together like clockwork, though. With my bike ready in transition, my friend Mike (from ATL) zipped up my wetsuit and we followed the masses (like cattle to the slaughter) to the beach where the swim was to start. Once the water came into view, I started shaking and crying. How the hell could the water be so choppy and rough when 24 hrs ago it was like glass?? I was scared to death of the mass swim start, and I’ve never felt like a strong swimmer to begin with. I’ve worked hard at it the past few months, but still felt uneasy. Poor Mike… his first Ironman, too, w/ his own heart racing, yet trying to calm me down.
I ended up next to my friend Rui at the start, and we both had to pee pretty fiercely. With an unspoken pact of solidarity and a shit-eatin’ grin, we just went in our wetsuits right there on the beach, minutes before the gun went off. Sounds nasty, but I can assure you that we were NOT ALONE!!!
The mass start was a massive chaotic mess. Throw in the rough water, kicking, pulling, yanking, and gulping of saltwater, I felt like I was moving backwards—certainly not progressing forward. The entire swim offered no respite. NONE. I was shocked at how aggressive everyone was. I had to simultaneously swim and fight people off – the entire time. All my Ironman-veteran friends told me that there’d be low points throughout the day, but I didn’t expect to want to pack it in already within five minutes of the swim!! It was not fun, but as I was told, it ended up being the easiest part of a very long day. Shocked and very happy, I exited the water in 1hr, 14minutes—a bit faster than I had anticipated.
The volunteers stripped off my wetsuit, I flew through transition, and was on my bike within four minutes.
The Bike: 112 miles
There were so many people from Florianopolis lining the streets cheering for us. I quickly learned that the cheering kids were most excited to collect the empty Gatorade sports bottles that we’d throw to them. The police were awesome at controlling traffic, and I was smiling at everyone I could. I really had fun on the bike, and I think that helped me mentally.
I’d done several 100+ mile rides in training, but had no idea how it would feel to ride 112 miles alone while trying to keep a decent pace. Turns out it was great (and I was never alone). I felt so strong and kept telling myself to follow my plan and take it easy the first 30 miles. The marathon would be a long way to walk if I blew myself out on the bike.
Many people say that the real race begins at Mile 80 on the bike. At Mile 80, I was still feeling really good. We had quite strong winds, though, which slowed everyone down and made it much tougher. Each person’s category/age group is marked on their legs, so you become fixated on every leg you can see. I passed 2 female pros and got really excited. I was fired up! By around Mile 100, though, I wanted my ass off that bike! My neck was feeling major pain and I couldn’t be happier to reach transition. Total ride time: 6hrs, 1minute.
(The times posted on the results page show both transition times included in the bike split, which is inaccurate.)
At transition, I had one of the volunteers rub out my neck for a few minutes. It wasn’t part of my plan to hang out, but I was in so much pain and I wasn’t going anywhere until I worked it out. Five minutes later, I was off to run my first marathon!
The Run: 26.2 miles
What can I say? It hurt. Not painful the whole time, but certainly not a joy ride. It was so interesting to sort of feel like an outsider watching the mechanics of your body unfold. I was constantly monitoring my body and realized that I was in a big caloric deficit, had a majorly upset stomach, and was just praying that my body would continue functioning. I knew I could mentally tough it out if my body held up. Since it was my first marathon, I had to break it in to something I knew I could manage. That day, I wasn’t running a marathon; I was just running four 10Ks. The marathon was an unknown, but I could certainly do four 10Ks!
The first half was good, but tough. I got sick and visited the bathroom, then kept on. One of the female pros that I passed on the bike went flying by me, and I shrugged it off and thought, “Well, it was fun while it lasted!” (The other one apparently didn’t finish.) There were a few really tough, steep hills… one at 17% incline!! I didn’t feel fast, but I stayed steady. My goal was to not slow down.
The second loop was motivating as we came back through the start/finish area. Our race #s had our names printed on them (brilliant!), so I had loads of people cheering “Go Amy!” It was awesome!! I smiled at everyone, and then was slowly reduced to just giving a thumbs-up (req’d less energy!).
The last six miles were pretty brutal. Road kill was everywhere—people walking, limping, just getting through it. I needed calories bad, but couldn’t eat, and was afraid to. Physically, I was spent. It was now just a mental game. I just played mind games with myself the whole time: I broke each 5K into a familiar loop I run back home, and I kept trying to sing songs that “make me go animal,” per Patrick Doak’s advice.
I ended up catching that same female pro around Mile 21, and when she saw me she started to speed up. Who would slow down?? Nice one, Amy. Now you’re gonna kill yourself trying to hold on to another very stubborn Argentinian woman. I did NOT want to hold that pace the last 5 miles, but I knew (as did she) that one of us would back off. She yelled to me, “You don’t need to worry! I am not even in your category!” That was all I needed to fire me up. She backed off, I took off, and the finish line was FINALLY in view. I have no idea where my sprint came from, but I flew through it. Total run time: 3hrs, 57min.
Total time: 11hrs, 22 minutes.
I went immediately to the med tent. After the ½ Ironman, I cried tears of joy. I was really happy. After this race, I cried for about 1hr straight— and they were NOT tears of joy. They were tears of PAIN! I’ve never felt my legs quite like that. I was shaking after 2 IVs, still unable to move. I seriously wondered if I’d have to spend the rest of my time in Brazil in a wheelchair, because I didn’t think I could walk. Alas, I got up and was FINE.. . and walked straight to the FOOD! I was famished!
I soon learned of the results and was actually shocked. I went into this with personal goals, but not really expectations, because it was all so new to me. Turns out that I finished #2 in my category, and #20 overall female (including the 17 pros that started the race!). I was the #6 overall amateur. Unfortunately, they only gave one slot to Kona (World Championships) for my category, so I just missed it. But this was way better than I had anticipated, and I was thrilled with the cool trophy I got. I was happiest that it was OVER, though, and could finally relax.
I spent the rest of the week up north in Fortaleza with my good friend, Drea. We did a lot of shopping, walking, rehydrating w/ about 5 coconuts/day, laying out on the beach, and eating. How much longer can I use the “I’m in a caloric deficit” excuse!!? Surprisingly, after Day 2, my body felt pretty normal, and I wasn’t even sore. I could tell that I had way less energy than normal, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I though it’d be.
So what’s next? I’ve qualified for and committed to National Championships (Olympic distance) in Kansas City on Aug.13th… . Then I’m doing this madness all over again on Sept.11th at Ironman Wisconsin ! This was an awesome experience and one of the mentally and physically toughest experiences of my life. I loved it and want to see if I can do even better next time!
This is a perfect example of how pushing yourself (whether it’s going out for a 15 minute jog or completing an Ironman) can be so gratifying. It doesn’t really matter what it is. Thanks for your encouragement and for allowing me to share this really cool experience with you. It was beyond awesome to have so much support and motivation from my friends and family.
Please keep in touch!
Lots of love,
Amy (Ironman # 447!!!!)
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