Myrtle Beach Marathon
February 18, 2012
It was finally here, my second marathon. 26.2 miles on the open road with thousands of people. No rain, snow, freezing rain, sleet…just hot sun.
Nik and I got up at 4:00 am to head to the start line with our friends Laura and Greg Howell (who I swear is part Kenyan.) We walk because the start is so close and parking would be such a pain and just to warm up a tad.
National Anthem is sung, crank chairs start and we are off…what lies ahead of me turned out to be a battle of wills, digging deep and an angel that appeared somewhere between mile 18 to 20 who’s name is Laura…
To begin with my Garmin would not locate satellite, I am too dependent on it as I soon found out. Something else I learned is that when you taper and eat, you feel like a million bucks which for me equals, you got it…crash and burn. But like the phoenix I pulled myself up and finished the damn thing.
I was just going, felt great, top of the world, mile 1, mile 2...and so on to pass the 13.1 cut off, feeling good, then mile 15 at 2:05. Holy crap. It hits me, I know what I have done. Let the meltdown begin. As I turn the corner to mile 15, I felt it, impending doom as if I had stopped dead in my tracks everything had become slow motion. I had been running my half marathon pace and guess what I was doing the full. I experienced it, the wall, the legs would no longer cooperate, the lungs were fine, the heart was good. Thank goodness I have plenty of “heart” and could not get my hands on a cell phone.
Guess what I did. (Now it is sort of funny but Saturday morning it was not funny at all.) I sat down on the curb of the route and started to cry. Yep, me, Miss Strong, Determined, Bull headed, Run loving girl, me. I sobbed. I knew what I had done and not only that but I knew that I had 11.2 miles to go.
Let me explain that 11.2 miles is a long way in a full marathon even on a perfect day. Today was not that for me and I wanted to quit but guess what…I didn’t quit, I finished.
When I sat on the curb I realized just how much I had done myself in by going out too hard. My legs would not cooperate, I felt every muscle, every tendon, every joint in my body hurt. Then, hello nausea. I started to dry heave, while still crying. That was real pretty.
Then, there was music from a band or radio station or something and it started playing U2. Sorry to offend but I don’t particularly care for U2 and the lyrics “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” starts to blare. Well no crap, I want my legs back and the pace I had maintained. That song added fuel to the fire and irritated me to say the least but I had to get away from it. So I dug deep and started back to jog, walk shuffle, walk, I never crawled but it did cross my mind. I even did the zig zag walk from being dizzy. Lo and behold out of nowhere a guy comes running by with music playing, Motley Crue, “Kick Start my Heart.” I mustered up a smile, that song helped me through the next mile.
A little further down the road, I’m moving a little faster or so I thought, cruel joke the body and mind can play on you, glanced at my garmin pace 13:45. That was all I had in me. Then I met Jeremy and George. I ran with them for a bit, not sure how long as there are periods of the day that I cannot recollect. We passed each other along the way many times. Jeremy was a clown, George the serious runner who was support team for his friend. I listened to the bicker back and forth, laughed with them and kept trudging forward.
It literally took me and hour to trek the next 3 miles. Then I finally saw mile 18. There was a sign that said “Run like Zombies are chasing you!” I would sure have been zombie food, if a rabid dog had been chasing me on Saturday, he would have eaten me too.
At Mile 18, there was this turn around, and I swear I wanted to cheat and cut, I didn’t but gees it was enticing. It was as if there was a force field to zap even more energy from us, all the runners were now walking. Maybe we were in the Arena, unaware. (“Hunger Games” in case you didn’t know!)
Then I’m still walk/running less than a jog, when, smack on the butt, and I hear “good game” it was Laura Howell. She asked me was I ok, I said no, explained what had happened early on. I tried to get her to leave me but she wouldn’t. Miles 18, 19, 20 I don’t remember so much except that we were anticipating the next water stop as we were reduced to walking through each one. I remember at one of those stops, I started having a stabbing pain in my abs, made me immediately nauseous again. I am doubled over again, gagging. She still wouldn’t leave me.
Then came the mirage. We couldn’t discern where we were, first aid station coming up or water stop. The marker flags were the same color, cruel joke, unthought-of detail, I don’t know but for us it was like a mirage in the desert. The temperature Saturday wasn’t supposed to be much over 50 or so but by the time we finished the temperature was nearly 70 degrees. Both Laura and I were dressed for colder temperatures, she in long sleeves, me in long pants. Water….I think.
When we got to mile 22, there were oranges. I swear those were the best oranges I have ever eaten. Funny thing is (now it’s funny) when I got my orange slice I started to flip it out, I dropped it. I must have had this look on my face like a little kid who drops her ice cream cone, I was tearing up, Laura said I will get you another one, but the volunteer darted to get me one. I had it on the side of my face, wiped my hands on my pants. Best thing I have ever eaten.
Then we get to mile 23, I asked Laura if I could swim the 3.1 miles instead of run it. We both laughed. Deep down I was serious and my brain was gone.
At mile 25, in Market Commons, I heard, there she is, it was My friend Laura and her husband David. I was so happy she was there but stayed away from her because I knew I would have crumbled had I hugged her. I just wanted to be finished.
THEN THE FINAL 1.1 Miles.
Just the last bit and we are done. Laura and I can hear the spectators, see the finish line. Laura screams there’s Melinda. I see her smiling and screaming. Then I see Nik, I just want to grab him. I see Greg. I see the finish line and the clock and Laura is beside me and we finish together.
I hugged her and thanked her for Saturday, from around mile 18 on I needed her. I just remember telling her over and over I hurt. Every part of me hurt. She was hurting too but she never told me, she towed me in. Saturday, she was my angel, just teamwork is what she said. We got across the finish line together. Cadence…
I have never been so happy to see the end of a race. I had forgotten how bad a marathon hurts, almost like childbirth. Pain is forgotten and you do it again.
Let me further explain, I was so terribly crushed by my performance on Saturday, I am my worst critic. No one expects anything from me but me. That is what makes me tick, my drive, my determination, my sheer will, grit.
I hurt. I cried. I beat myself up. But I learned that nobody else was disappointed in me, only I was. Everyone else was proud of me, what I had done, just the accomplishment and pushing through that day.
My sweet Nik helped me get off my clothes back at the hotel, helped me get into a bath, took a nap. He tried stretching my ankles for me, tears started rolling down my face. He stopped, hugged me and said no more. I said back no more what? He said marathons and then he retracted that and smiled, and he hugged me. I told him that I had forgotten how bad the last one hurt, he told me the last one was worse. I don’t think so but how can I judge, he’s the one who takes care of me afterward so I am certain he knows better than I.
Well my next one is in three weeks. We shall see how much I forget by then, probably not enough but I will get through it.
On to the next one…March 10.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Runs in my veins...pun intended!
 |
| Cindy and me after her first half marathon and my first full |
Thank goodness I have a supportive husband, or none of these runs, every weekend, would be possible. He gets up when I do, which on more cases that not, is earlier than during the work week. He gets me, he would never discourage me or get in my way. Sometimes he runs with me on a short run, which I must admit that I love, and truly wish my kids would follow suit, maybe one day. He laughs at me when I can't sleep because of anticipating the next morning's run. He really laughed the night I was running in my sleep, like a dog does when he dreams, my feet were in motion under the covers. It takes a special person to be with a runner, especially an endurance runner, especially this one. I know no moderation because during the run, I feel most calm, most in-tune with me and I have the clearest mind. Perception of many things change on the road.
It is exciting, a new adventure, a gift, one waiting to be opened by me and whoever is with me that morning.
Yesterday, I was talking about running, (what's new) and told Nik that I loved him more than running. Imagine a Christmas grin that appeared on his face because he knows just how much I love running.
It is a given, running is as big a part of me as the blood that courses through my veins. Now I am in no way, shape or form the best at it, believe me, but I love the freedom of the open road and I work hard. Running clears my mind, never ceases to put a smile on my face and recently has given me even a bigger insight into life in general. I will expound.
Since November, I have been doing some running with people who have just started out running trying to increase their mileage to help them attain their goals. Company on the road is nice sometimes. I stay with them to encourage them along the way is a better explanation. There's no way to help somebody run. I have been in a sense support crew member.
I have had the privilege to get to know a few people over the past weeks and I see them in a totally different light. First thing is when you are on the road with people for hours, conversation flows especially when no headphones are involved, and the miles tick away, sometimes too quickly. I won't name names (they know who they are) here but I am going to share what I have learned, profound things that are so worth mentioning.
To begin with, never ever judge a book by it's cover. Unless you take the time to get to know someone, you don't have a clue where they have been, mentally or physically. Running allows you to tap into both of those, running makes you raw, as in vulnerable, for a lack of a better term, (there is bodyglide for that, just kidding). Tapping in to what reserves you possess, that only you know where to dig to find. You learn that sheer will and determination is what fuels most runners, some are naturally gifted runners, others literally run their legs off to get better. They are a culmination of over-comers, survivors, people who have been given up on by doctors, people who have defied the odds and gave the middle finger to whoever played a part in trying to sabotage their success.
Then there is this wonderful thing called grit. My most recent encounter with grit comes encased in a 5'4" guy who for no reason other than self determination and a little thing called grit does what he does. After having run with him a few times, the phrase, "NO EXCUSES" takes a whole new meaning. My friend was paralyzed at fourteen years old on his right side after an accident, wheelchair bound with a twenty percent chance of ever walking again. Christmas day this crazy guy, took off on a miserable seventeen mile run, alone. At that time I was unaware of his story, his goals. Over the past two weekends I have had the privilege of running with him, last week ten miles and this week thirteen. Did you read what I said, he is now running, not in a wheelchair. I have been forever changed.
Then there is another crazy guy I know, he is gifted beyond measure. His resting heart rate is forty-one. What in the world! Let me share a secret about him, he is the most HUMBLE person I know. He doesn't let his ego get in the way.
On that note I will say this. I have run across someone I lovingly call cheese dust. He is unfortunately the most arrogant jerk I have ever met. Let me clarify that he is no part of our group that runs, but he stole the joy and crushed one of my friends spirit as he was running his first half. If you feel good about yourself through bullying, that is sad. And remember this...you have children. How would you feel if someone treated your daughter or son that way? Just saying...
Then there's Taz. He has heart, and won't quit. :)
Melinda, who calls me KFM (kung fu master) and Cindy (who says that I would make her shutter when I would ask her if she wanted to run somewhere different) both who have embarked on journeys of their own, doing better than they thought they would. Just to see them smile, through pain, because running hurts, fyi, all the time, because of personal achievement. Miles and miles of smiles, tears and accomplishment and I have the honor of witnessing them, one by one!
All in all I have learned the following things:
1) with determination, even if the medical professionals say different, anything is possible
2) some of us are naturally gifted and some of us are just naturally gifted at working hard
3) humble versus arrogant, seriously. No discussion needed.
4) grit and heart will get you a long way
5) never let anyone steal your joy (I'm working on that one.)
6) never forget that one day in the past, was your first day running too
7)running is definitely about the journey, about the people along the way and miles and miles of smiles, blood, sweat, tears and a little thing called GRIT.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Behind the smiles...
There are days when overwhelming sadness creeps in, eyes fill with tears, heart hurts and the pit in my stomach widens. Today is one of those days. Crawling back into bed and under the covers and wake me up Monday would be on the top of my list but today and this weekend but it isn't going to happen.
The sadness, it's personal, very and aches through my soul, it is debilitating but life goes on. Days go by, special days, Saturday is one of those. No one understands, no need to explain.
Behind the smiles...
The sadness, it's personal, very and aches through my soul, it is debilitating but life goes on. Days go by, special days, Saturday is one of those. No one understands, no need to explain.
Behind the smiles...
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Oh the glorious run...
Morning is the most magical time to me as a runner. The smell of the morning, the luxury of being fortunate enough to view front and center the sunrise, the honor of being physically able to run for miles and miles without stopping, and yes, while smiling, happy to be out there, not a chore or a care for that matter.
Yesterday and today have been profound mornings for me, the explanation will follow. On the road, pounding out those miles and miles, in silence as I am a purist when it comes to running, no music, I have learned so much about myself. I am shaking my head as I type. On the road being completely dependent on no one else but me, relying on me fully to pull me through what ever distance I decide that morning, I have started to tap into what I am made of.
I can deal with hurt, disappointment, anger, and any other emotion there is, on the road. I have dealt with death and on the other end of the spectrum, compete elation. All of it comes down to this though, the end result is always happy, for me at least. When I run, I am on the quest for "Zen." It is the high of the run, more powerful than any drug, from what I understand, that can be administered. The state of which total enlightenment is reached, my thoughts are present, not past and not future. I am in the moment, probably the only time my mind is silent. I can hear nothing, my legs are light as air and I pray or talk to my granny. I start to repeat a mantra, I smile, I can run for days. Wonderful and dangerous state to be in, always searching for it, I never want to leave.
For the past two days, temperatures and humidity levels in my favor, I have set out for new journeys, running courses the opposite direction than usual. Running on trails, which I am quickly loving more than asphalt, and being surrounded by the most picturesque view imaginable. There is a hill that I am so fortunate to have on my course, at the top I can see all around. That is where I get to see the sunrise, that in all actuality watches me. The sun this morning was the ball of fire that usually appears at sunset, the most amazing one I have seen in a while. The sun hid behind the clouds for a while, but then on my decent and arrival back home, I was able to run through the sun rays as I entered my yard.
Over the past two years, I have learned to be grateful for the small things. For example, the ability to even be able to run, the support system I have to chase my dreams and the will to get to the finish line. I appreciate that I can see the sunrise, my granny was blind. I appreciate that I can run, there is nothing wrong with me and though I was told 11 years ago that I, yes I, was told by a medical professional that I would never run again, I am defying the odds and I am in fact running again. I am grateful for being able to defy the odds. I believed I could, so I did....
Yesterday and today have been profound mornings for me, the explanation will follow. On the road, pounding out those miles and miles, in silence as I am a purist when it comes to running, no music, I have learned so much about myself. I am shaking my head as I type. On the road being completely dependent on no one else but me, relying on me fully to pull me through what ever distance I decide that morning, I have started to tap into what I am made of.
I can deal with hurt, disappointment, anger, and any other emotion there is, on the road. I have dealt with death and on the other end of the spectrum, compete elation. All of it comes down to this though, the end result is always happy, for me at least. When I run, I am on the quest for "Zen." It is the high of the run, more powerful than any drug, from what I understand, that can be administered. The state of which total enlightenment is reached, my thoughts are present, not past and not future. I am in the moment, probably the only time my mind is silent. I can hear nothing, my legs are light as air and I pray or talk to my granny. I start to repeat a mantra, I smile, I can run for days. Wonderful and dangerous state to be in, always searching for it, I never want to leave.
For the past two days, temperatures and humidity levels in my favor, I have set out for new journeys, running courses the opposite direction than usual. Running on trails, which I am quickly loving more than asphalt, and being surrounded by the most picturesque view imaginable. There is a hill that I am so fortunate to have on my course, at the top I can see all around. That is where I get to see the sunrise, that in all actuality watches me. The sun this morning was the ball of fire that usually appears at sunset, the most amazing one I have seen in a while. The sun hid behind the clouds for a while, but then on my decent and arrival back home, I was able to run through the sun rays as I entered my yard.
Over the past two years, I have learned to be grateful for the small things. For example, the ability to even be able to run, the support system I have to chase my dreams and the will to get to the finish line. I appreciate that I can see the sunrise, my granny was blind. I appreciate that I can run, there is nothing wrong with me and though I was told 11 years ago that I, yes I, was told by a medical professional that I would never run again, I am defying the odds and I am in fact running again. I am grateful for being able to defy the odds. I believed I could, so I did....
Monday, April 4, 2011
Post Pardum Race Stress Disorder
Well as is apparent from the title, nose dive, nose dive, nose dive.
I am assuming it was inevitable but when what I like to refer to as "post pardum race stress disorder" occured, I thought I was losing my mind. After being on an adreline high for about, well, ever since the marathon in December, the high only increasing thoughout the training time, building up during the taper time and being completely over the top at completing the Half-Ironman two weeks ago, I can only describe the feeling of coming down like being "clothes-lined" and knocked flat of my back minus any air being left in my lungs. The last sentence pretty much sums it up. I thought that I was loosing my mind. I could not think. I felt like and even voiced that I was wondering around aimlessly. I felt like a dark cloud was looming over me. I cried. Not a little bit of crying I mean the hard kind when someone dies, kind of cry. The spark that was in my eye from basking in the wonderful sweet taste of, guess what, adrenaline, yes adrenaline, there is nothing quite like it, had disappeared.
“It is the greatest shot of adrenaline to be doing what you have wanted to do so badly. You almost feel like you could fly without the plane.”
Charles Lindbergh stated it pretty acurrately, I did feel like I could fly all by myself and I was until the unfortunate moment that the adreline mainline stopped. I was so used to having something else big to work toward that by the time that the cessation of training for the big race was at hand, finish line had been crossed, day dreaming was kind of over, what now was the question. The what now was having a break down, not knowing what to do with the extra time I had on my hands, not knowing what I was just working out to exist for, not having an agenda that consisted of knowing exactly what I had to do every second of my day. I was not happy and it was not working out for me. The manifestation was tears, not anger but tears. Listen, I would have taken anger any day over tears.
Crying to me is the weakest form of self expression in my mind. I could not control it, snubs, full fledged crying, sobbing, mourning the ending of the chapter of my life because I had enjoyed and loved every second of the training, the sore muscles, regimented days, the scheduling, the ability to balance it all and do it well, I missed it.
I was asked one day what was your least favorite element of the triathlon. I did not have a least favorite part except for it being over so soon. Insane I know but, I did not want it to end. That day was the most incredible day of my life. A day like no other, I was forced to stay right in the moment, through each twist and turn, there was no time to veer from what I was doing at that second, none. Focus was important. Like I had mentioned in a previous post, when I reached mile 10 in the run, I knew it was almost over and sadness crept in. I was happy to have set out to do what I had intended on doing, but now it was over in a split second of crossing the finish line, it was over and I felt it was too soon.
My poor swim coach, asked me Friday was I okay and my bottom lip started to quiver. She hugged me and asked me what was wrong. First she thought it was me and Nik. Then she asked if it was my family which there are somethings going on with my sister that is stressing me out. So that situation and my own lack of adrenaline coupled together made for a definite show of emotional meltdown at the pool. She looked me dead square in the face, told me that I was strong, to surround myself with positive people, to remember how hard I had worked and how far I had come. I cried on her shoulder. Then she said for me to hurry and get into the pool, you are weightless there, meaning the weight of the world would be gone as soon as I plunged into that glorious pool, she was right and continues to be right. I swam my butt off, swam it off again on Sunday and Monday. I cried in the car driving home.
I got home during all this ordeal of the wind being knocked out of me and poor Nik is trying to pack for our trip to Isle of Palms. The phone rings, it's Laura. I had just texted her to say that I was not gong to run on Saturday, I needed to chill. She called and asked if I was ok. Here come the waterworks again. Nik has not a clue what is wrong, he thinks I am mad, don't want to go to IOP, poor guy was clueless. I told her I didn't know what was wrong, I told her about my meltdown at the pool. She said that one of her friends had told her about something similar, but nobody had warned me. I would imagine that everyone is different and of course I would get the short straw and come away with the tears, gees.
I literally start throwing my clothes to Nik to pack, he asked if she had upset me, I assured him not. I told him I didn't know what was wrong with me, I was not in any pain, I was not upset really, I was not sick. He knew exactly what it was he said adrenaline dump.
The weekend away helped, swimming more helps. Getting perspective on things help. Listening to other people who have experienced the same things helps. Setting new goals, which I am so excited about really helps. By the time I left the IOP, the spark was back, in my eyes. The adrenaline is not freeflowing as before but it will again, sooner than later. Perspective is everything. Realizing just how much I had loved this challenge, how I thrive on such lofty challenges helped. The explanation that Greg gave me follows: Do you want to know what is going on? Of course my response was yes. He continues that my passion for this race was so great, that the reason for the tears is the mourning of it's being over. He said it happens and it even happened to him. I was so relieved...honestly that was the first time I smiled in about three days.
My daughter had witnessed my second meltdown at home. She texted me during the day to check on me. In her eloquent words, after I told her that I was experiencing post pardum race distress, she called me and I quote, " Ma, you're an adrenaline crackhead." She made me laugh.
I am assuming it was inevitable but when what I like to refer to as "post pardum race stress disorder" occured, I thought I was losing my mind. After being on an adreline high for about, well, ever since the marathon in December, the high only increasing thoughout the training time, building up during the taper time and being completely over the top at completing the Half-Ironman two weeks ago, I can only describe the feeling of coming down like being "clothes-lined" and knocked flat of my back minus any air being left in my lungs. The last sentence pretty much sums it up. I thought that I was loosing my mind. I could not think. I felt like and even voiced that I was wondering around aimlessly. I felt like a dark cloud was looming over me. I cried. Not a little bit of crying I mean the hard kind when someone dies, kind of cry. The spark that was in my eye from basking in the wonderful sweet taste of, guess what, adrenaline, yes adrenaline, there is nothing quite like it, had disappeared.
“It is the greatest shot of adrenaline to be doing what you have wanted to do so badly. You almost feel like you could fly without the plane.”
Charles Lindbergh stated it pretty acurrately, I did feel like I could fly all by myself and I was until the unfortunate moment that the adreline mainline stopped. I was so used to having something else big to work toward that by the time that the cessation of training for the big race was at hand, finish line had been crossed, day dreaming was kind of over, what now was the question. The what now was having a break down, not knowing what to do with the extra time I had on my hands, not knowing what I was just working out to exist for, not having an agenda that consisted of knowing exactly what I had to do every second of my day. I was not happy and it was not working out for me. The manifestation was tears, not anger but tears. Listen, I would have taken anger any day over tears.
Crying to me is the weakest form of self expression in my mind. I could not control it, snubs, full fledged crying, sobbing, mourning the ending of the chapter of my life because I had enjoyed and loved every second of the training, the sore muscles, regimented days, the scheduling, the ability to balance it all and do it well, I missed it.
I was asked one day what was your least favorite element of the triathlon. I did not have a least favorite part except for it being over so soon. Insane I know but, I did not want it to end. That day was the most incredible day of my life. A day like no other, I was forced to stay right in the moment, through each twist and turn, there was no time to veer from what I was doing at that second, none. Focus was important. Like I had mentioned in a previous post, when I reached mile 10 in the run, I knew it was almost over and sadness crept in. I was happy to have set out to do what I had intended on doing, but now it was over in a split second of crossing the finish line, it was over and I felt it was too soon.
My poor swim coach, asked me Friday was I okay and my bottom lip started to quiver. She hugged me and asked me what was wrong. First she thought it was me and Nik. Then she asked if it was my family which there are somethings going on with my sister that is stressing me out. So that situation and my own lack of adrenaline coupled together made for a definite show of emotional meltdown at the pool. She looked me dead square in the face, told me that I was strong, to surround myself with positive people, to remember how hard I had worked and how far I had come. I cried on her shoulder. Then she said for me to hurry and get into the pool, you are weightless there, meaning the weight of the world would be gone as soon as I plunged into that glorious pool, she was right and continues to be right. I swam my butt off, swam it off again on Sunday and Monday. I cried in the car driving home.
I got home during all this ordeal of the wind being knocked out of me and poor Nik is trying to pack for our trip to Isle of Palms. The phone rings, it's Laura. I had just texted her to say that I was not gong to run on Saturday, I needed to chill. She called and asked if I was ok. Here come the waterworks again. Nik has not a clue what is wrong, he thinks I am mad, don't want to go to IOP, poor guy was clueless. I told her I didn't know what was wrong, I told her about my meltdown at the pool. She said that one of her friends had told her about something similar, but nobody had warned me. I would imagine that everyone is different and of course I would get the short straw and come away with the tears, gees.
I literally start throwing my clothes to Nik to pack, he asked if she had upset me, I assured him not. I told him I didn't know what was wrong with me, I was not in any pain, I was not upset really, I was not sick. He knew exactly what it was he said adrenaline dump.
The weekend away helped, swimming more helps. Getting perspective on things help. Listening to other people who have experienced the same things helps. Setting new goals, which I am so excited about really helps. By the time I left the IOP, the spark was back, in my eyes. The adrenaline is not freeflowing as before but it will again, sooner than later. Perspective is everything. Realizing just how much I had loved this challenge, how I thrive on such lofty challenges helped. The explanation that Greg gave me follows: Do you want to know what is going on? Of course my response was yes. He continues that my passion for this race was so great, that the reason for the tears is the mourning of it's being over. He said it happens and it even happened to him. I was so relieved...honestly that was the first time I smiled in about three days.
My daughter had witnessed my second meltdown at home. She texted me during the day to check on me. In her eloquent words, after I told her that I was experiencing post pardum race distress, she called me and I quote, " Ma, you're an adrenaline crackhead." She made me laugh.
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Puerto Rico Experience...Island life...Sigh
I will begin by saying that I had no expectations, none, I was going to be completely open minded. This trip was the first time out of the country for me but certainly not the last. To begin the adventure, the flight out was awesome. Landing there, seeing everything being this brilliant shade of green, the sky and the ocean, well they were the same hue of turquoise blue, an extension one of the other.
Life was simpler there for me any way. I, the one whose life is scheduled literally every fifteen minutes, was able to breathe. I was able to let my hair down, no one knew me.
No one knew my name, no one knew my profession, no one cared what I was eating. No one knew me. When people spoke, they did because they wanted to, not because it was expected. There were no expectations placed on me, I, for the first time in my life, did not have to be "ON!" Oddly enough, having no pressure on me, I was bursting with energy, laughter and no stress. I joked with Nik and said that if everyone could experience this feeling of no cares that Botox would be no longer needed, as it is used to make you appear relaxed. Why should any one settle and be ok with appearing relaxed, experience it. I am saddened to think that I as well have willing to settle for appearing relaxed.
I didn't wear makeup on the trip, no one noticed, no one cared. My hair was usually in a ponytail, flip flops and bathing suit were the uniform for the trip after the race. It was so nice to be unplugged.
The food, let me just say the fruit was the best I have ever eaten. The fish was plentiful and delicious of course. Mostly we ate where the locals were, the stalls. Rotisserie chicken, rice and pigeon peas (which Irma's is still better) any kind of plantain you could want and yucca. Empanadas and Bakalouitos and Pina Coladas on the beach were the best even though I had decided that my cup had a hole in it. The pina coladas would be gone before I got back to the towel! Coconut ice cream, mango and passion fruit, sold by a little man pushing his cart on the beach, was amazing.
Fajardo was my favorite. The sounds of the birds, the fruit trees, coffee trees, the natural beauty there in the mountains cannot adequately be described with words.
Imagine waking up to these glorious sights and sounds every morning. Imagine wanting to wake up so you could see the sun come up over the mountains, wanting to just sit still and be quiet to breathe it all in. Imagine not turning on the television because you're so wrapped up in what beauty surrounds you. Imagine having time, time to do much or nothing depending on the mood. Imagine watching the moon come up, the stars making a grand appearance just for you. Imagine crystal clear ocean water, clean natural beaches. Imagine.
Old San Juan was nice but too commercialized. It reminded me of Charleston, I can go there anytime. Don't get me wrong it was great but a little busy for my liking, cruise ships port there so a lot of tourist activity.
On the beach, there were no boundaries of time, other than appplying sunscreen to Nik, nothing was pressing, no agenda. The hammocks lined the palm trees, Salsa music was in the background, people speaking Spanish, I couldn't understand them and I didn't care. It felt so right to be there, simpler, easier. I could just let down my guard and breathe.
Fighters were running to cut weight while we were eating at an open air restaurant, La Parrilla. We went there two days in a row, the food was fabulous. Irma called for the owner who was concerned when he approached our table, but was well pleased upon coming over. She had told him that we came back because we had enjoyed our food so much the night before. He was thrilled and so was the wait staff.
It ended too abruptly though, a deep sadness I felt when the time on the island was coming to an end. A simpler time, a part of me I left there as I boarded that plane. I did not want to leave. I missed my children and inside I just wanted to pack them up and move them to where I was. I'm am uncertain if I just wanted them to experience what I felt, the state of mind I was in or the whole trip.
Island life was so easy, addictive even, it was really nice being unknown.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Ironman 70.3
March 19, 2011
The realization that it would soon be over as I passed the Mile Marker for 10 miles, 67.2 miles were completed, sadness crept in, knowing that the race was going to end. I was not ready for it to be finished or to see the Finish Line. I wanted this instant to last forever.
The morning started early, the alarm set for 3 am as the transition area opened at 4:30 am and closed at 6 am. I had forgotten on thing in packing when we left South Carolina, the alarm clock, so a trip to CVS was a must once we were settled into our room there. Who knew that an alarm clock would be a commodity but I guess a lot athletes had also forgotten their clocks. I was also the lucky one who would have my monthly friend visit! Gees, just one more thing. With all that squared away and after having packed, repacked and repacked again my transition bag, we decided we might better give the clock a whirl to make sure it would work.
It did but….come race morning the alarm went off and it read 7:04 am. I looked at Nik and said, “ummm why does the alarm clock read 7:04?” He quickly turned on his cell phone to check the time and it was 3:04, thank goodness.
Due to lack of parking in Old San Juan, we had to park the rental car in a parking garage. Knowing that our having to leave so early in the morning Ni went to check to confirm that we would have access to the car, well that was supposed to be the plan but not everything works out that way. Come race morning, Nik goes to get the car which is not accessible, taxi ride to the transition area. All right so with everything getting thrown into the mix this morning, I am trying to remain calm, which I did. I mean come on what else could go wrong really? (insert chuckle here)
Unbeknownst to me, an impromptu storm had brewed up the night before so, any guesses on what happened to the nice serene swim that I was supposed to be having……well let’s just say the water I had looked at the day before appeared angered, there was no seeing any bottom, choppy cross currents and during the last 500 yards, though the water was only about 3 feet deep, the sand was coral and sea grass, stand on that, get cut feet, get cut feet detrimental to the rest of the day!
The moon was full that morning, strong wind blowing. After setting everything up in transition, getting marked, getting sized up by other athletes which was probably the funniest part considering I had no clue whatsoever what I was doing. I get air on my tires, the guy in front of me was probably 5 feet tall standing on his tip toes, turns around to ask me if I’m ready. The nice man who was pumping up my tires responded snippy back, of course she’s ready, she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t and rolled his eyes. I just laughed. There I became known as “Biohazard Girl” which would follow me the rest of the day.
I find a retainer wall to sit on so that I can do my stretches, writing the alphabet with my feet. In my hand I am holding my trusty swim cap that Lori had given me. I am replaying in my mind what things she would say in practice, what she had gone over and over with me, different scenarios and her preparation to do my first open water swim which subsequently to take place at the start of this race. Yes, I’m insane. Oddly enough I am not nervous, I am so excited that I am about to finally get to release all the pinned up energy. I was ready, in my mind I was any way, and really I didn’t care if people doubted me or not. Who cares if this is my first ever triathlon and that I had jus learned to swim, I was ready. I had worked my butt off literally in preparation and forced myself to rest though I didn’t want to, I was so ready to do the damn thing. As long as the mind is strong the body can endure most anything.
6:45 am
National Anthem is being sung. The lump in my throat and tears in my eyes are evident, pride American pride. Time to put on the swim cap and goggles and walk to the swim start. The cannon sounds for the pros to start and they are off. I get my “GOOD GAME” smack on the butt, hug Irma, hug and kiss Nik and I’m off to somewhere I’ve never been before.
7:00 am
Age groupers begin, every five minutes. We are identified by the color of our caps, baby blue was my age group only 85 in the group and mostly filled with girls with the “deer in the headlight look.” Weirdly I was still calm, ignorance is bliss but training and preparation is everything. Just let me say though that when the buoys are stretched out to show the mile 1.2 that I was about to swim, it was quite a reality check, but I was ready. My coach had told me to just wait and let everybody else go in, remain calm and just swim.
7:15 am
And we are off, the timer have started, www.Ironmanlive.com is streaming live feed of ME, Pam Gainey, bib 468, me, little old me from Elgin, South Carolina, ME! Truthfully I cannot even remember how the water felt, I just started swimming, being tussled around by the water, kicked in the chest when I swam up on someone’s feet, I can spot the buoys, they are huge. I am at the turn, I see the guy on a surf board. I swam to his board checked my watch, 23 minutes have passed. I asked him where I was, the expression of horror on his face made me realize what he thought I meant. He thought I was so disoriented that I was unaware of WHERE I was. I had to restate what I meant, I meant in the course how much longer I had because I could not see the exit from the water. He said that I was at buoy number 9. I said listen here, I need specifics, yards, and how many buoys do I have left. He smiled. He said you have passed the half way mark, when you go under the bridge you will see the finish. He said here is a cross current, be careful and save some energy. There was another girl in my same age group who was also there with the same guy. She said she was having a really hard time, she was trying to back stroke because she unable to put her face in the water. She said are we going to make it through this, I said I’m making it though, I don’t know about you. Take it one buoy at a time, I told her and wished her luck. I was following my own advice. I just swam, the way I had been taught, calm smooth strokes to propel me through the water. I get to the bridge, I spot Nik and his mom. She is wearing a white shirt, I came up, start treading water to let them know I’m just fine, I give them a thumbs up and swim to the finish. There was a “fun house” effect in the water as I approached the last few hundred yards of the swim. I was being pulled one way, the sea grass was waving back and forth underneath me and I knew not to stand. I shut my eyes and I swam right up to the finish mat when two people grabbed my hands to help me up the steps and to insure that I was ok. I stood there for a moment, I was smiling from ear to ear, I said I am great, you just don’t understand. I had done it, I did my first open water swim in the race and it was awesome all 1.2 miles of it.
BIKE
Probably the least amount of training I did was on the bike. Mostly doing spin classes, I had only been out on my Trek about six times and the furthest distance was about 35 miles.
There was a quarter mile run on concrete to the first transition area, T1. I spot my bike and all my gear, here begins the next step. Getting shoes on, eating a Powerbar, drinking water, sunscreen, helmet, glasses, garmin, number belt, all checked. Head on to the road, the first 5 mile marker appears out of nowhere. I cannot believe that I am going fast, but I am and I remember being advised to not go out too fast I slow down a bit to enjoy the ride. I have made a conscious decision that I will stop every 15 miles and drink, I am uncomfortable drinking on the bike, so this is the game plan. Drink one is down and I am back on the road, it is cloudy with many iguanas running in the road. Warning was given during the athletes meeting, about falling coconuts and iguanas. As I am riding I see the escorts and here the helicopter, Macca just passed me going to finish his bike loops that I have just begun. I start riding out, parallel to the beach, breathtaking views, then POW! Know what that sound was? FLAT TIRE! Now I couldn’t get so luck that It would be the front tire, no it had to be the back one. I am trying to remember what Henry had said at the bike shop, I took my time, started changing it and then assistance arrived in time to pump it up and I was off again. Tire change took 15 minutes, but I did it. I am still feeling really good, nothing is aching, quads feel strong, back is good. I am just enjoying the ride. I turn the corner and spot a biker down, this scared the crap out of me. He was still clipped into his bike, face down in the dirt in a pool of blood, knocked out. He had collided with a water bottle on the road.
I have moments of lost time on the road, I missed miles where I am not sure if I was zoned out or if it was when I was crying, tears of joy and accomplishment. Tears flowed twice during that ride as I was amazed by what I had done and how far I had come. I remember mile maker 40 and thinking this is the coolest thing I have ever done. I stayed far right the whole time, to not deter anyone who was faster than I, words of encouragement were shared as I was lovingly called “Biohazard Girl.” The same guy from that morning who had started calling me that passed me on the bike saying looking good and push yourself. I told him to go around, I was racing against myself and was enjoying the last miles of my ride. I finished up strong, feeling great. I proceeding into the transition area to return my bike and head out for the run, two down one to go, and I had said I would be satisfied just completing the swim on this very day! I am doing it, I am doing it!! At this time my face is perpetually frozen in smile position, my feet are on ground, where I know to just do my thing. It’s the run, my all time favorite.
THE RUN
I rode and ran in the same shoes and socks, put on my visor, ate some shot blocks, then I was off - Entrance into and exit from transition was awesome. There were volunteers to apply sunscreen to say drink this water, dump water over my head, give me Gatorade. I was well taken care of.
I here my name being called, it’s Nik and he’s wielding the video camera and the shoot and click camera in his hand, poor guy and his mom have been out here all day. He yells to me how are you feeling, my response to him was such a shock that his face told he whole story. I yelled back with a squeal, I feel great, I feel great!! He said really? I said really! See you later and I took off. Coach G had warned me about this leg too, don’t go out too fast. I look down, pace 8:02, I can hear him so slow down. I slowed down then I approached my first hill, spray painted on the road “IRONMAN BURNOUT.” Imagine looking up at Kelsney Ridge on steroids, those hills were no joke. I hit the brakes and decided I could walk up the hills and run the flats and down. That is precisely what I did. My legs were great, no bricks at all, back is good, neck’s good, shoulders are good. What is going on here?
I was unaware of how hot it was that day until I got to the run portion. There is no shade in Old San Juan, just sun beating down and heat. The volunteers on the run course were phenomenal, I hate that word but to say they were anything less would be an underestimate. There were water stops every ¾ mile. Sponges, ice, people with water hoses, gels, orange slices, bananas, Gatorade, ice machines were every where. I distinctly remember a female volunteer that I saw in the same spot 4 times, she would say, good job, I’m here. I passed her again, she said the same thing. The third time she said I’m still here. I said so am I. On the final time that I passed her she came out and hugged me, and said you made it. The run was so breathtaking, running parallel with the ocean, out near the fort, views were incredible and easily kept my mind distracted.
I am uncertain if it was being in the zone or delirium but I have miles of loss during the run as well. I remember hitting Mile Marker 3 then I remember being at mile marker 10. I remember thinking I had sand all over me, well it wasn’t sand it was salt that I had sweated out. I remember smiling the whole time, I had reviewed the day in my head, the past months getting ready for that day. I thought about still feeling good, that my stomach had cooperated, I was never nauseous, and that I had to go pee. I stopped at a port-a-jon to pee, out of character for me but today I had time. I think unconsciously I was stalling, I was not ready for this day, this minute to be over. I was not ready to cross the finish line, I was saddened that it, my first triathlon, Ironman 70.3 San Juan was drawing to a close. It was still surreal.
I started making my entrance into the finish line area, I spot Irma, I start waving at her fiercely. She starts screaming and running towards me, I am smiling and she knows that if I am smiling that I am good, great even. I laugh at what she was screaming but will not disclose it here, she probably doesn’t even know what she was saying. I will not ever forget though. She is the VP and PR of the Pam Gainey Fan Club.
I am still just running, and lo and behold guess who I see and I know that I can catch him? Mr. “are you ready, biohazard girl, push yourself,” yes that is who it was. As I PASSED him on the run as I proceeded to the finish, I could not have been more proud, for a multitude of reasons. ;)
I didn’t even here them call my name, I was so excited have done what I had set out to do. I was stopped in my tracks, medal, finisher shirt, paparazzi, chip removed. I hear Nik, but I cannot get to him. I am still in the confines of the race course. Here is where it gets interesting, I found a cop/security guard and I ask him how I get around the barriers to get out. He just looks at me and I proceed to start screaming at him. DOES ANYBODY SPEAK ENGLISH AROUND HERE? I told him if he didn’t tell me how to get out I was climbing the fence. All he could get out was YELLOW. He pointed for me to go around the yellow sign at the end. All day on the road, directions had been given in Spanish, and I could not take it any more.
I finally got to Nik. He was so excited, burned and worn out. He asked me how I was feeling and again being completely blown away by my response that I felt great, he was more tired that I was. I was waiting for the adrenaline to wear off, which subsequently still has not worn off, to be either so sore or so sick that I could not move but it didn’t happen. I never even had a cramp, upset stomach, sunburn, or even a blister.
He and I proceeded to transition to get my bike ready to be sent back to the US of A and head back to the hotel. Still looking at me in disbelief (because he is fully aware that Pam Gainey will not let you know if she is hurting unless she has to be thrown over his shoulder and carried up steps after Charlotte Full Marathon in December) but I was fine, really.
I told him that I was hungry, so let’s shower and go get some dinner.
I had a little soreness in my quads, not even anything to write home about, my muscles were so loose that they could be shaken. I never threw up, my stomach never flipped. No swelling. I even slept that night.
As soon as we got back to the room, I called my swim coach. She was so excited to hear what had happened. She told me that I have a new nickname, “FIERCE BEAST!” I told her thank you for helping me, that without her I would not have been able to do the race. She said she was proud to say that she had been a part of the whole thing and that she just wished she could heave been there. In my mind she was there, I could here her saying “Good work, Kiddo.”
Saturday, March 19, 2011 is a day that will never be forgotten. It’s the day that I defied every thing. The day that I proved that with dedication, discipline and determination that anything is possible.
I realized just what kind of impact I have on people, I had people at home following me on line watching my progress, people that said they were proud to say they know me. So many people that once I turned my phone on, it froze from the influx of calls, fb messages and texts. It was the most incredible day of my life.
Ironman 70.3
March 19, 2011
The realization that it would soon be over as I passed the Mile Marker for 10 miles, 67.2 miles were completed, sadness crept in, knowing that the race was going to end. I was not ready for it to be finished or to see the Finish Line. I wanted this instant to last forever.
The morning started early, the alarm set for 3 am as the transition area opened at 4:30 am and closed at 6 am. I had forgotten on thing in packing when we left South Carolina, the alarm clock, so a trip to CVS was a must once we were settled into our room there. Who knew that an alarm clock would be a commodity but I guess a lot athletes had also forgotten their clocks. I was also the lucky one who would have my monthly friend visit! Gees, just one more thing. With all that squared away and after having packed, repacked and repacked again my transition bag, we decided we might better give the clock a whirl to make sure it would work.
It did but….come race morning the alarm went off and it read 7:04 am. I looked at Nik and said, “ummm why does the alarm clock read 7:04?” He quickly turned on his cell phone to check the time and it was 3:04, thank goodness.
Due to lack of parking in Old San Juan, we had to park the rental car in a parking garage. Knowing that our having to leave so early in the morning Ni went to check to confirm that we would have access to the car, well that was supposed to be the plan but not everything works out that way. Come race morning, Nik goes to get the car which is not accessible, taxi ride to the transition area. All right so with everything getting thrown into the mix this morning, I am trying to remain calm, which I did. I mean come on what else could go wrong really? (insert chuckle here)
Unbeknownst to me, an impromptu storm had brewed up the night before so, any guesses on what happened to the nice serene swim that I was supposed to be having……well let’s just say the water I had looked at the day before appeared angered, there was no seeing any bottom, choppy cross currents and during the last 500 yards, though the water was only about 3 feet deep, the sand was coral and sea grass, stand on that, get cut feet, get cut feet detrimental to the rest of the day!
The moon was full that morning, strong wind blowing. After setting everything up in transition, getting marked, getting sized up by other athletes which was probably the funniest part considering I had no clue whatsoever what I was doing. I get air on my tires, the guy in front of me was probably 5 feet tall standing on his tip toes, turns around to ask me if I’m ready. The nice man who was pumping up my tires responded snippy back, of course she’s ready, she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t and rolled his eyes. I just laughed. There I became known as “Biohazard Girl” which would follow me the rest of the day.
I find a retainer wall to sit on so that I can do my stretches, writing the alphabet with my feet. In my hand I am holding my trusty swim cap that Lori had given me. I am replaying in my mind what things she would say in practice, what she had gone over and over with me, different scenarios and her preparation to do my first open water swim which subsequently to take place at the start of this race. Yes, I’m insane. Oddly enough I am not nervous, I am so excited that I am about to finally get to release all the pinned up energy. I was ready, in my mind I was any way, and really I didn’t care if people doubted me or not. Who cares if this is my first ever triathlon and that I had jus learned to swim, I was ready. I had worked my butt off literally in preparation and forced myself to rest though I didn’t want to, I was so ready to do the damn thing. As long as the mind is strong the body can endure most anything.
6:45 am
National Anthem is being sung. The lump in my throat and tears in my eyes are evident, pride American pride. Time to put on the swim cap and goggles and walk to the swim start. The cannon sounds for the pros to start and they are off. I get my “GOOD GAME” smack on the butt, hug Irma, hug and kiss Nik and I’m off to somewhere I’ve never been before.
7:00 am
Age groupers begin, every five minutes. We are identified by the color of our caps, baby blue was my age group only 85 in the group and mostly filled with girls with the “deer in the headlight look.” Weirdly I was still calm, ignorance is bliss but training and preparation is everything. Just let me say though that when the buoys are stretched out to show the mile 1.2 that I was about to swim, it was quite a reality check, but I was ready. My coach had told me to just wait and let everybody else go in, remain calm and just swim.
7:15 am
And we are off, the timer have started, www.Ironmanlive.com is streaming live feed of ME, Pam Gainey, bib 468, me, little old me from Elgin, South Carolina, ME! Truthfully I cannot even remember how the water felt, I just started swimming, being tussled around by the water, kicked in the chest when I swam up on someone’s feet, I can spot the buoys, they are huge. I am at the turn, I see the guy on a surf board. I swam to his board checked my watch, 23 minutes have passed. I asked him where I was, the expression of horror on his face made me realize what he thought I meant. He thought I was so disoriented that I was unaware of WHERE I was. I had to restate what I meant, I meant in the course how much longer I had because I could not see the exit from the water. He said that I was at buoy number 9. I said listen here, I need specifics, yards, and how many buoys do I have left. He smiled. He said you have passed the half way mark, when you go under the bridge you will see the finish. He said here is a cross current, be careful and save some energy. There was another girl in my same age group who was also there with the same guy. She said she was having a really hard time, she was trying to back stroke because she unable to put her face in the water. She said are we going to make it through this, I said I’m making it though, I don’t know about you. Take it one buoy at a time, I told her and wished her luck. I was following my own advice. I just swam, the way I had been taught, calm smooth strokes to propel me through the water. I get to the bridge, I spot Nik and his mom. She is wearing a white shirt, I came up, start treading water to let them know I’m just fine, I give them a thumbs up and swim to the finish. There was a “fun house” effect in the water as I approached the last few hundred yards of the swim. I was being pulled one way, the sea grass was waving back and forth underneath me and I knew not to stand. I shut my eyes and I swam right up to the finish mat when two people grabbed my hands to help me up the steps and to insure that I was ok. I stood there for a moment, I was smiling from ear to ear, I said I am great, you just don’t understand. I had done it, I did my first open water swim in the race and it was awesome all 1.2 miles of it.
BIKE
Probably the least amount of training I did was on the bike. Mostly doing spin classes, I had only been out on my Trek about six times and the furthest distance was about 35 miles.
There was a quarter mile run on concrete to the first transition area, T1. I spot my bike and all my gear, here begins the next step. Getting shoes on, eating a Powerbar, drinking water, sunscreen, helmet, glasses, garmin, number belt, all checked. Head on to the road, the first 5 mile marker appears out of nowhere. I cannot believe that I am going fast, but I am and I remember being advised to not go out too fast I slow down a bit to enjoy the ride. I have made a conscious decision that I will stop every 15 miles and drink, I am uncomfortable drinking on the bike, so this is the game plan. Drink one is down and I am back on the road, it is cloudy with many iguanas running in the road. Warning was given during the athletes meeting, about falling coconuts and iguanas. As I am riding I see the escorts and here the helicopter, Macca just passed me going to finish his bike loops that I have just begun. I start riding out, parallel to the beach, breathtaking views, then POW! Know what that sound was? FLAT TIRE! Now I couldn’t get so luck that It would be the front tire, no it had to be the back one. I am trying to remember what Henry had said at the bike shop, I took my time, started changing it and then assistance arrived in time to pump it up and I was off again. Tire change took 15 minutes, but I did it. I am still feeling really good, nothing is aching, quads feel strong, back is good. I am just enjoying the ride. I turn the corner and spot a biker down, this scared the crap out of me. He was still clipped into his bike, face down in the dirt in a pool of blood, knocked out. He had collided with a water bottle on the road.
I have moments of lost time on the road, I missed miles where I am not sure if I was zoned out or if it was when I was crying, tears of joy and accomplishment. Tears flowed twice during that ride as I was amazed by what I had done and how far I had come. I remember mile maker 40 and thinking this is the coolest thing I have ever done. I stayed far right the whole time, to not deter anyone who was faster than I, words of encouragement were shared as I was lovingly called “Biohazard Girl.” The same guy from that morning who had started calling me that passed me on the bike saying looking good and push yourself. I told him to go around, I was racing against myself and was enjoying the last miles of my ride. I finished up strong, feeling great. I proceeding into the transition area to return my bike and head out for the run, two down one to go, and I had said I would be satisfied just completing the swim on this very day! I am doing it, I am doing it!! At this time my face is perpetually frozen in smile position, my feet are on ground, where I know to just do my thing. It’s the run, my all time favorite.
THE RUN
I rode and ran in the same shoes and socks, put on my visor, ate some shot blocks, then I was off - Entrance into and exit from transition was awesome. There were volunteers to apply sunscreen to say drink this water, dump water over my head, give me Gatorade. I was well taken care of.
I here my name being called, it’s Nik and he’s wielding the video camera and the shoot and click camera in his hand, poor guy and his mom have been out here all day. He yells to me how are you feeling, my response to him was such a shock that his face told he whole story. I yelled back with a squeal, I feel great, I feel great!! He said really? I said really! See you later and I took off. Coach G had warned me about this leg too, don’t go out too fast. I look down, pace 8:02, I can hear him so slow down. I slowed down then I approached my first hill, spray painted on the road “IRONMAN BURNOUT.” Imagine looking up at Kelsney Ridge on steroids, those hills were no joke. I hit the brakes and decided I could walk up the hills and run the flats and down. That is precisely what I did. My legs were great, no bricks at all, back is good, neck’s good, shoulders are good. What is going on here?
I was unaware of how hot it was that day until I got to the run portion. There is no shade in Old San Juan, just sun beating down and heat. The volunteers on the run course were phenomenal, I hate that word but to say they were anything less would be an underestimate. There were water stops every ¾ mile. Sponges, ice, people with water hoses, gels, orange slices, bananas, Gatorade, ice machines were every where. I distinctly remember a female volunteer that I saw in the same spot 4 times, she would say, good job, I’m here. I passed her again, she said the same thing. The third time she said I’m still here. I said so am I. On the final time that I passed her she came out and hugged me, and said you made it. The run was so breathtaking, running parallel with the ocean, out near the fort, views were incredible and easily kept my mind distracted.
I am uncertain if it was being in the zone or delirium but I have miles of loss during the run as well. I remember hitting Mile Marker 3 then I remember being at mile marker 10. I remember thinking I had sand all over me, well it wasn’t sand it was salt that I had sweated out. I remember smiling the whole time, I had reviewed the day in my head, the past months getting ready for that day. I thought about still feeling good, that my stomach had cooperated, I was never nauseous, and that I had to go pee. I stopped at a port-a-jon to pee, out of character for me but today I had time. I think unconsciously I was stalling, I was not ready for this day, this minute to be over. I was not ready to cross the finish line, I was saddened that it, my first triathlon, Ironman 70.3 San Juan was drawing to a close. It was still surreal.
I started making my entrance into the finish line area, I spot Irma, I start waving at her fiercely. She starts screaming and running towards me, I am smiling and she knows that if I am smiling that I am good, great even. I laugh at what she was screaming but will not disclose it here, she probably doesn’t even know what she was saying. I will not ever forget though. She is the VP and PR of the Pam Gainey Fan Club.
I am still just running, and lo and behold guess who I see and I know that I can catch him? Mr. “are you ready, biohazard girl, push yourself,” yes that is who it was. As I PASSED him on the run as I proceeded to the finish, I could not have been more proud, for a multitude of reasons. ;)
I didn’t even here them call my name, I was so excited have done what I had set out to do. I was stopped in my tracks, medal, finisher shirt, paparazzi, chip removed. I hear Nik, but I cannot get to him. I am still in the confines of the race course. Here is where it gets interesting, I found a cop/security guard and I ask him how I get around the barriers to get out. He just looks at me and I proceed to start screaming at him. DOES ANYBODY SPEAK ENGLISH AROUND HERE? I told him if he didn’t tell me how to get out I was climbing the fence. All he could get out was YELLOW. He pointed for me to go around the yellow sign at the end. All day on the road, directions had been given in Spanish, and I could not take it any more.
I finally got to Nik. He was so excited, burned and worn out. He asked me how I was feeling and again being completely blown away by my response that I felt great, he was more tired that I was. I was waiting for the adrenaline to wear off, which subsequently still has not worn off, to be either so sore or so sick that I could not move but it didn’t happen. I never even had a cramp, upset stomach, sunburn, or even a blister.
He and I proceeded to transition to get my bike ready to be sent back to the US of A and head back to the hotel. Still looking at me in disbelief (because he is fully aware that Pam Gainey will not let you know if she is hurting unless she has to be thrown over his shoulder and carried up steps after Charlotte Full Marathon in December) but I was fine, really.
I told him that I was hungry, so let’s shower and go get some dinner.
I had a little soreness in my quads, not even anything to write home about, my muscles were so loose that they could be shaken. I never threw up, my stomach never flipped. No swelling. I even slept that night.
As soon as we got back to the room, I called my swim coach. She was so excited to hear what had happened. She told me that I have a new nickname, “FIERCE BEAST!” I told her thank you for helping me, that without her I would not have been able to do the race. She said she was proud to say that she had been a part of the whole thing and that she just wished she could heave been there. In my mind she was there, I could here her saying “Good work, Kiddo.”
Saturday, March 19, 2011 is a day that will never be forgotten. It’s the day that I defied every thing. The day that I proved that with dedication, discipline and determination that anything is possible.
I realized just what kind of impact I have on people, I had people at home following me on line watching my progress, people that said they were proud to say they know me. So many people that once I turned my phone on, it froze from the influx of calls, fb messages and texts. It was the most incredible day of my life.
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