And everybody's question is,
"First, and last? Or will you do another?" And the answer to that is I'm absolutely not allowed to answer until at
least one week after. By then my body should be mostly back to rights and I won't be so biased because of how much I hurt ;-)
Item number one is a shout out the the best Pit Crew an athlete could have! My friends Wayne & Diane, and of course the awesome hubby, Ross. These three kept me equal parts distracted from jitters and focused when needed leading up to the race. They were out on the streets just as long as I was, cheering me on. And they took extremely good care of my tired, sick carcass from the moment I crossed the finish line until I was back home in my own bed.
And about that last sentence, yes, I did this race while sick. Ross had been sick the week before and I was doing everything in my power to avoid getting it. Keeping a safe distance, no kisses, liberal application of Lysol, and popping vitamin C tablets like they were Halloween candy. But it only put off the inevitable. The day before the race I started showing symptoms. The day of the race I woke up with a very sore throat, headache, drippy nose, and I'm reasonably sure a low grade fever but I can't confirm that since the rental house didn't have a thermometer and I didn't have time/care to check to be sure that morning. And of course the day after the race I was done for because I was physically too exhausted to fight it off any longer. Full-on cold from Hell. Complete with never ending headache, sinus pressure, drippy nose, cough and chest congestion, and I have no idea how much of the body ache is from being sick and how much was from the race. To put it succinctly: EVERYTHING HURTS! :-)
The Awesome parts of the race:
The Swim:
The sun was just barely thinking about coming up as we gathered around for a prayer and the national anthem. So I got to "watch" the sun rise in snatches every time I turned to breathe, and the water lit up around us as we swam up the channel. And it might sound corny but I have never felt so connected to humanity before. This was a wetsuit mandatory race, so for just this one segment all the athletes looked absolutely identical. All in our black neck-to-ankles or more wetsuits, all in matching race-issued purple caps, all with goggles obscuring our face except for a giant smile as we crossed the start line on the beach and dove into the water. Over 40 states and a half dozen countries represented in that mass. All of us training for this one moment.
The Bike:
Anyone who hasn't done a fall race, you REALLY should get one on the schedule next year. Doesn't matter where you are exactly, to be out in the crisp air in fall bedecked countrysides is absolutely beautiful. The bike course was extremely flat where the only hills (if you can count these as hills) were a half dozen over-passes getting into and out of town. The scenic 112mile loop was mostly out on the county highways and every minute of South Carolina fall foliage was breathtaking.
Anyone who knows the area probably knows about "South of the Boarder." I have never been, but passed it on the way into town for the race. From the road, it looks like one of the SUPER cheesy road-side attractions built in the 50's or 60's at the height of the "family road trip" era. Half the fun of passing it are the road signs leading up to and after it. A minimum of one per mile for 10 miles leading up to it, often more than that. And a couple on the other side, letting you know you must have accidentally missed the exit and quick, turn around ;-)
Why does this make it into the race summary?! Because... every mile for 10 miles leading up to the aid-station were funny hand made "South of the Boarder" signs stuck along the shoulder of the road. And the aid station (mile 70) was an awesome looking party of mexican-garbed volunteers, with sombreros and water bottles (theoretically filled with tequila, but we had to make due with lime-flavored sports drink instead). In general, the volunteers on the bike course were fantastic and the aide stations were well stocked and very well run.
The Run:
I have very mixed feelings about the run, but I will say on the positive side that the tour of the city was excellent. I have been in big races that took us through too much of down town. And running on hard concrete between all the tall buildings is boring and painful on the ankles and knees. This course went through just a bit of down town by the water front and with a view of the Battleship for which this race gets its name. Then up through the older neighborhoods and neat houses. And into a twisty-turny park with picturesque spanish moss in the trees as it wound around the lake. The volunteers on the run course were even better than on the bike course. They were out ALL night long, cheering us on, making noise and holding up every possible funny triathlon/marathon sign, and no matter how terrible it got (getting to that in a minute) they were SUPER up-beat and supportive and made us believe we were going to make it to that finish line.
The Finish Line:
Was loaded with people who came out to watch the last hour, from 11:30-12:30 (traditionally, cut-off time is midnight, but this race starts 30 minutes late so we have enough light for the swim portion). This isn't an "ironman" logo race, but the announcer was every bit as animated as Mike Reilly at the big Ironman races. There weren't any other racers close so I got the finish chute all to myself and the roar of the crowd was tremendous as I jogged across the finish line (no energy left to run, but there's no way I was going to walk through a photo finish THAT big! Come on now!) And this might seem silly to anyone but another athlete, but the best part about the finish line experience was finally finding my way to the food tent, and hearing the volunteers tell me, "hang on just a second, the guys just went to grab fresh pizza off the truck!" And I had myself two giant slices of hot cheesy pizza goodness. The delivery guy must have known I was coming ;-)
The Not-So-Awesome parts of the race:
Packet Pick-Up:
At the mandatory pre-event meeting to go over rules and last minute logistics, the race director was bragging about how this race is listed in the top 10 iron-distance races in the WORLD! And out on the course, I readily believe it. But when you first get to the convention center and the pack pick up line is well over half an hour long, it made me wonder who they had to pay-off to get such a good recommendation. They had volunteers standing around doing nothing because of the
extreme bottle neck at packet pickup. There was ONE (repeating, ONE) athlete getting through the line at a time. You show the first volunteer your ID, the next person gets your folder with numbers/info, the next person gets you a shirt, the next person gets your chip and ankle strap, then you walk across a mat to activate the chip. I have never been to a race that big that didn't have it divided up by last name to get people through efficiently (A-K, L-S, T-Z... something!)
The Start:
Was extremely cold, and I didn't know how much extra clothing to bring (since we were warned it was all being collected and donated to salvation army afterward instead of being returned, so no packing my usual morning attire). What I brought turned out to be not quite enough. But someone who brought extra gave me their extra pair of socks and I managed to survive until we hit the water which was blessedly warm compared to the very cold morning air.
The Swim:
Was SUPER salty! I haven't been to the beach very often, but the few times I have gotten a mouth full of sea water was nothing compared to the water in the channel we were in! I gagged on the overly-salty water several times, and twice it was bad enough I had to tread water for several seconds to dry-heave and get my composure back, then keep swimming. My lips were a bit swollen when I got out and my tongue wanted to crawl out of my mouth and run away because of the salty water. Then the run from the dock where we got out to where the bikes were racked is the longest transition run I've ever had. I found out later it was almost 400meters (1/4 mile) and it was on the chunky kind of asphalt that really hurts on cold, bare feet.
The Bike:
The down-side of having a very flat course is there's no hiding from the wind. And where there are trees, it acts like a funnel. Those things made for a headwind approximately 3/4 of the bike course and everybody's times were quite a bit longer than anticipated because of that. In my case, it was a little over an hour longer than I expected to take. And the bike course is where I really started to lose my mental edge. At that point my headache was throbbing and the Excedrin I took that morning had worn off. About half-way I had to loosen the helmet strap a couple notches at the back, just barely enough it would stay on, because it hurt too much to have it snug against my head. At aide-station mile 100 I got lucky and the volunteers didn't know they weren't supposed to give me meds and I got a handful of Ibuprofen to take the worst edge of the headache off.
One of the cool things about races is the sidewalk chalk art in the roadways. It's almost always fun, funny, or inspiring. And one thing on the the road really got to me, "No Regrets." Three different times I had myself absolutely convinced I would stop on the bike course and let the sag-wagon take me back. But then I would regret not at least trying to finish. I couldn't come that far and give up, no matter how crappy I felt. So I convinced myself that "I" couldn't stop, but if someone else told me to stop, then I would. If I didn't make the cut-off time for the bike and they told me I couldn't run, then I would stop and I wouldn't be upset, because then at least I had tried. And I surprised myself by finishing the bike portion with just over an hour to spare before the cut off time.
And while the volunteers were 99% amazing. There was one volunteer who sounded a little too excited when she saw me come around the corner and told her friend, "oh! I hope this is the last one!" then shouted out to me, "Are you the last one?!" when I was so far back I couldn't see the biker ahead of me, or anyone behind me either. I didn't know if I was or not, but I was already in a pretty low place mentally, so it only took a split second for my mind to convince me that I was indeed the last one, and start bawling (again).
The Run:
Was absolutely miserable. But at least this part I was well trained for. With nearly half a dozen full marathons under my race belt, I know how to keep putting one foot in front of the other no matter what. And again, I had my new mental game that I couldn't stop, "No Regrets," but if someone else told me to stop, that would be okay. And again, I surprised myself by making the cut-off time for the second lap! To avoid stragglers being out too late, you have to start the second lap of the two-lap course before 9:30pm, and I had an hour and a half to spare. My first half-marathon was right smack on pace (which is amazing considering the terrible bike ride before it!) The second lap was a train wreck. Starting at the turn-around point where I got my Special Needs bag and found out my running sleeves didn't make it into this bag like I needed and I was super cold going back out for the second lap at 8pm with nothing but a sweat-soaked t shirt and sports bra vs 40 degree weather, full dark, and a light breeze.
Then there was the park. That jogging trail that goes around the lake. It is pretty in day light, but you also really need the day light to make sure you get over the many, Many, MANY lumps, bumps, potholes, and roots in the road from all the trees along the trail. And those of us bringing up the rear were out in the park well after full-dark. Of course there were street lights, and they put up huge balloon lights with their own generators spaced just far enough that you could always see the next one. But there was a lot of dark, tree-root covered trail in between. And all the twists and turns makes that the longest F*g 4 miles out and back I have EVER run. I was closing in on the turn-around at the far end of the park, and every time I came to a turn I was sure that turn-around aide station would be just ahead, and after the 4th or 5th time I still hadn't found the aide station I was in tears (Again!). This park was Never Ending! And every runner who passed me and politely asked, "How's it going?" we could joke about how AWEFUL that park was. Everybody out there hated it.
I wouldn't have finished without Ross! He and Wayne and Diane met me around mile 20, the long awaited turn around at the far end of the park. I was turning a little blue at that point, and Ross gave me his sweatshirt and walked the last 6 miles with me back to the finish line. As they say around here, I was "a hot mess." I was hardly walking, more like staggering at that point. I learned during training that my body does not do well with too much sugar, but sugary sports drinks and gels were almost all I had out there because I still don't know how to eat well on long runs (my tummy doesn't put up with solid food very well when running - those GU's are about the only thing that'll stay down and that's what I always ate before I knew any better). I had to stop and cry about every quarter mile about something or other. That the park was never going to end, that I was going to come in so late they'd taken the finish line down, that the park was never going to end, that I was ruining Ross's vacation by taking so long to finish/making him stay out with me so late, that the park was never going to end, that this wasn't fun any more and I wanted to be done Right Now, and... that the park was never going to end! Crying was the only thing that helped at that point, to release all the emotional stress that was a result of the physical stress of the race thus far. Ross talked me through all of it and kept me shuffling long after I wanted to stop. I Love that man SO much for that one!
The Finish:
Well, there's the part where they gave me the wrong medal (a silver "70.3" instead of the gold "140.6" I had to send Ross back out after), and they apparently were giving out pajama bottoms earlier and had runout. So, I'm beyond drop-dead tired and somebody's gabbing at me about pajama bottoms, but I can't have any, and what's my size, but they run small, and never mind they're going to mail them... They had already taken down the changing tent and packed up 95% of the medical tent so there wasn't so much as a gurney to hide behind and change out of my disgusting race clothes and into the dry clothes Ross brought for me so I stayed in them until I got home.
In conclusion:
Back to the first question. Ever again? If you asked me that night, or the next morning the answer was NO. NEVER. EVER!
But sure enough the day after that I started wondering if I had done this, that, and the other different in my training and taper, if I hadn't been sick, if I pick a fresh-water race... maybe... So I really don't know at this point. And given the emotional trauma (and the heavy medication at the moment) I probably need to wait a while longer before deciding one way or the other.
That's it folks!
I survived!
Thank you for following my training path that got me to race day, and all the good luck/well wishes! It is FANTASTIC to know so many people are following along and care.
