This is crazy. That's what I was thinking on a chilly morning November 2, 2008. I was waiting outside a large white tent, a man drinking his cup of coffee and guarding the entrance way. My husband, Mark and father-in-law Larry, each of us nervously waiting yet excited at the commitment we were about to make. "You go in first, Holly."
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As I stepped in, the coffee man pointed to a man sitting in behind a laptop alongside 8 different volunteers. As I walked over to him, I recognized him right away. Michael Lovato. He is a professional triathlete. Just raced in Kona's World Championships a couple weeks back and placed in the top 10. I felt like I knew him, not because I watched him race but because I stalked his wife through her blog. I read a couple of blogs regularly and Amanda Lovato is also a pro triathlete who writes blogs on almost a daily basis.
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Simutaneously, I shake his hand and congratulate him on his place in Kona and then ask him when he's going to move back to Austin, TX where he lived for many years. Then the time comes when I have to commit. Placing trust in myself, I raise my credit card, fill out the forms, and officially sign up to do a freakishly long race in a little over a year. Ironman Florida 2009. Here we come.
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2009-The last year was not easy. As a firm believer of "the more work you put in, the greater the reward." I can say I did my fair share. Following an intense training program added to that the diabetes element left my basket pretty full at times. Daily logging forced me to be accountable. I don't appreciate being accountable for the highs and lows-mistakes galore. Seeing it down on paper is not fun. I know it gives lots of crucial information, I had to keep reminding myself it was for the end result. Over the last year, Matt and I had completely changed my basals, daily routine, and workout schedule. Through daily logging there was lots of change at the beginning, trial and error runs in the middle, tweaking at the end. Had some very positive races setting PRs and was hoping the Ironman would be the culmination where I put everything on the line and come away with the end result as perfection.
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Aside from diabetes, the workouts just got brutely long. Waking up, driving to a location, working out, stretching, recovering (eating, which was fun), showering. Sometimes I felt triathlon took up much of my free time. I was constantly asking myself if this was enough training to get me to the finish line smiling. Talking to people who say they do 5 hours a week more than me lead me to question my training. "Okay, I'm only looking to finish with a smile," is what I ended up deciding and reassuring myself. No Kona slot, no age group placement, none of these were my goals. Only thing to prove was that I could cover the distance in less than 17 hours and leave nothing on the course.
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About a month out from the race, I started to think daily about the successes and fun times throughout the last year. Somewhat chronological, some highlights include:
1. Running the Marin 10K, where I placed all my trust in Matt with the diabetic plan. Turned out to be one of my most memorable events and felt "normal" for the first time in a race.
2. DTC which totally changed me and now I am proud to let my pump hang out. The best week of my life, hands down.
3. DTC gets another point: to the AMAZING people I've made friends with and can honestly say they're lifers! I cannot cannot thank you gals enough!
4. Big Kahuna Half-IM where my attitude changed and started to enjoy racing instead of thinking of the pain/finish line. Plus setting a PR in a half-IM (b/c of the IM training) without pushing myself to the limit is a pretty cool feeling.
5. Having a crappy race in Silicon Valley but knowing that it was due to insulin deficiency instead of my training and didn't beat myself up mentally.
6. To doing this with Mark, who has been there literally from start to finish and many workouts.
Day 1: Ahh the ocean breeze in the morning. Our condo sits ocean side and the balcony allows for a great view. The gulf is pristine and calm, blue and green, far-stretching and blanket-like. In the middle, buoys mark the course and swimmers are lapping them. Each in their wetsuit, each spending many mornings with this race in mind, now their time is here. Zip ours on and stroll down to the beach.
The swim was relaxed and swimming alongside aquatic life below. Stingrays, crabs, and a school of small fish. The small fish liked Mark, swimming under him as if they were afraid of the sun. Packet pickup involved a long line of athletes inching closer to a manned opening. Once inside tons of smiling volunteers who were quite knowledgeable and also able to calm the nerves. Stepping on the scale for a weight should have been optional, I think. A woman told me it was for the medical tent for dehydration and medications you might need.....yeah yeah. Just want to make you think you shouldn't have had that Twinkie the day before. My woman reassured me it was all muscle weight, thats damn right, it'll be put to good use on Saturday! Thinking about the reasoning behind the weight reminded me of the seriousness of the race...things could get ugly. Things proceeded with around the expo where Mark bought everything under the sun making sure he'd have enough IM Florida parafanialia to wear for a month and a half. Off to meeting back up with the inlaws for a low key homemade dinner at their condo was a nice change to the busy day. The guest was Jeff who has raced this event several times before. I think there was a lightening round where we all threw questions at him from all different angles. He handled the pressure. The night ended early with loading up our transition bags to drop off the next morning. Or so we thought. Mark and I both couldn't sleep and had to read in order to get drousy. 4 hours of sleep, maybe.
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The last day as a non-Ironman: Waking up to a pancake breakfast strikingly reminisant of a McDonald's pancake breakfast. At the end of the table, there were packets of syrup from you guessed it, McDonalds! It was awfully (!) nice of the local church group to provide us with this free breakfast, so I ate it and knew that I'd be burning the thousand gram trans-fat rounds the next day. Checking in with Matt to go over some last minute race plans. Its amazing how he pulls a calm blanket over me. Back into the thick of things at the Expo and time to meet up with Kat. Where are you?! Ahh, she's at the wrong expo. Two expos, craziness. This reunion deserves a huge hug, a tight huge hug, a ginourmous tight huge hug. I think her and Mike wanted to take that hug back when I welcomed her kids, Max and Matthew with two loud hand clappers which they enjoyed hitting the other with it more than alone clapping. The boys were doing a kids triathlon on Sunday so they were packet picking up too. A short line plus a goody bag stuffed full of awesomeness left me wanting to change to the Sunday tri. Adults get seats, kids in the trunk. Max yells out, "is that a police car behind us???" I guess ducking was quick enough to avoid any further damage. Honestly the carb loading started two days prior but the night before was one of epic portions for the Holly. Barbecue Bacon Cheeseburger with fries. All in my tummy and my insulin pump did not fail me. Mark was astonished as I crunched the last fry. Good conversation and loved spending time with a family that constantly kept me laughing and wanting to stay out later. I secretely spiked the over 21er's drink with triathlon powder. The addiction is spreading as they confess they want to do an Ironman. Couldn't have planned a better night. Another Matt call with strict orders from Mark not to "get all ryled up." The night before, as I was talking to Matt, I was practicing my finish line dance and jumping up and down literally. Achem, I was also listening to every word Matt said, of course. Maybe that was why I couldn't fall asleep. This night, I kept my voice low and calm and stuck to the plan. Laid down for bed and since it was Friday night, there was a bar playing horrible music (sounded like droning Karyoke) and so at 1:20 I grabbed the comforter made a cocoon right next to the bathroom toilet. Yes, I slept in the bathroom the night before the race. Maybe thats the key.........................
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D-Day: The stress of the music or simply race jitters lead me to waking up 245 even though going to bed a good level, even on the lower end. Added a correction to my breakfast bolus waited then ate my waffles. These waffles had followed us from San Francisco which were precisely measured for carbs and what I've done for every race this season. Setting up I felt like I was rising and trying to stay positive. Mark was nervous about the race, very nervous, so I staying true to our opposing personalities, I stayed calm. We forgot to take our wedding rings off (something I always do in open water) so one last stop to the condo and I tested 197. Trending downward, perfect. Now off to find the table to place my pump. Since there wasn't an individual transition place, I had to figure out where to put my pump during the swim. No one knew where the table was, great. The 20th person we asked knew. Explaining to them, this literally is my lifeline without it I will die, I think got the point across. Although I had a syringe and insulin, getting my pump back was going to be a key player.
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Fast forward: the gun goes off and 2,600 athletes go into the water. I got into the middle-back. Stayed with the pack until the first turn then it started to thin out. I got kicked right in the ear and heard a THUD. Equilibrium is over rated. Getting into my groove started to feel good watching for the occasional life below. The swim is warmup for me, why waste your energy for the rest of the day? The first lap nearing an end and walking in knee deep water up on shore, over the timing matt, I felt very hungry. This usually is the precursor to a low so I went ahead and took half a gu. My only nutrition on the swim was now in a trash can and heading back in without my security blanket, hopefully another lap wouldn't bring on a low. I've practiced this many times and rarely have I needed anything at all on swims. Back into the water, this lap was significantly slower due to not being in the pack and also the waves. The waves took your whole body up and down feeling like your fighting just to not go backwards, seasickness crept in a bit. Apparently I might have gone backwards due to my time. Rounding up the swim and realizing one sport was done was an amazing feeling. Found my pump after asking a little kid where the table was. Then off to the showers to rinse off the salt water and wetsuit strippers. Its a good thing my mother-in-law saw me because I would have completely missed her, I guess I was in the zone. Running into transition, the Owen family spotted me and again thankfully yelled. They treked out early in the morning to see me race-thats dedication! Rockstars!
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Two wheels: Finding my groove on the bike. Little jitters begin, the longest leg of the course and what would come of it? The day before, I had mounted pictures on my bike of my support team that got me to this point. I looked down at my pictures and each time literally painted a smile from ear to ear stretching across my face. I received many compliments with my pictures and I have to admit was pretty badass looking. The memories kept flowing. A police escorted turn and it felt like we turned directly into the wind. Down in my aerobars to stay for me. Fighting the wind and keeping positive, this was unfortunately one of the longest stretches without a turn. I love flats but often the wind is more intense. But it was manageable. Actually mile 20 came out of the blue and I was crusing along. Was hoping to pull off 18 miles per hour but couldn't with the wind. I love the aid stations on bike courses: the kid volunteers stretch their hand out and you fly by and snatch the bottle from their hand. The kids hi-five each other and get so excited each time they successfully do this plus racers get fluid, total symbiotic relationship with a little adrealine rush on both ends. One girl passed me this gatorade endurance bar cut in half. When I put it in my mouth I started to chew and I thought I was eating the plastic wrapper, it was awful, it was like chewing a now-and-later but chocolate powdery and just tasted artificial. I looked at the ingredients (comfortably in those aerobars) and luckily there was no hydrogenated shit but not all natural. Back to my homemade energy balls. I was surprised at how many people I was passing and thankfully less were passing me. This is where I'm astounded at the comraderie, most everyone gives a bit of encouragement and its needed. Everyone's beginning to hurt a bit. There always seems to be a lovin-life-kinda-guy who rides by singing at the top of his lungs just enjoying the day and his lack of tune (not to misrepresent, but I've never seen a woman do this...). A little before mile 90 of the bike, I see Mark pulled over on the side with his bike in front of him. I ask him if he's okay, he confidently said yes and told me to keep going he'd catch me on the run. Well, I felt guilty for not completely stopping but before long Mark caught me. We talked for a while and eventhough we did a lot of our training rides together, it was a totally different experience actually riding together and accomplishing our longterm goal together. Although it sounded more of how much we both were hurting. His knees were acting up in a weird way but felt okay otherwise. Each of us were holding a good pace. My father-in-law was ahead and so I had to go hunt him down. After crossing a timing matt together (our marching along together forever documented) I pushed ahead. Changing direction and roads we were now in little wind and I was flying. At one point, I noticed my breathless breathing and pulled back a bit, still got a full marathon to go. Never did catch Poppa Pepper. This is where the chatter begins with other racers, people struggling due to aching muscles or maybe frank boredom, at this point you've spent a lot of time on your bike taking one revolution after another for hours on end. Started to chat it up a bit with others. I turned the last corner on the bike and two girls on the side started screaming at the top of their lungs--"GO HOLLY!!!!" That reaction was either drunk girls high on caffiene...too enthusiastic to be an average cheerer. (I got an email about two weeks after the race that was from one of my diabetic friends I knew in Texas. She had done a relay half IM with me a couple years back and wrote she saw my pump then my bib and started screaming for her fellow diabetic friend. We had lost contact and both of us were excited about the randomness of it.) Back to the race, I found my mother-in-law closer to transition and she was so happy to see me and quickly asked, where's Mark??? Didn't expect me to pass him? Ha! Get ready to RUN!
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One step after another: After the catored transition, I can't say I felt great. In fact, I didn't know if I could run at all. I took a cup of water, sipped, turned on the GPS. Once out of the transition area, I started up trotting. It felt nice. Nicer than expected. "All the training and bricks galore, paying off nicely!" Less than a mile in, I saw Poppa Pepper! He was walking, but booking it! Could barily keep up with him walking along side him. He explained his plan about walking 15 minute miles. He was certainly doing it now, just had to keep it up. Said goodbye but it was awesome having family on the course duking this out with you. We're all going to be Ironmans out here today. I stopped at just about every aid station, keeping hydrated is key at this point, there's still a lot of the race left. My first run goal: Just keep running till the 10K point then re-evaluate. Okay, this is the point were it didn't feel so happy. Started to count to 100 probably 15-20 times, just keep moving forward. Mark passed me before the 10K point, caught me faster than I expected, especially since he was hurting on the bike. But I ran with him--correction--he ran with me for a minute. Either way, the sun was setting and prepared for it, but it sure fell fast. Leading into a park without lights made you appreciate the moonlight, although it could have used some highbeams. Back into some light, one of the first things I saw was a man clutching over a trash can and contributing some pretty neon liquid. Offered a gu and if he needed help in between his heaves. Back to the counting again, this is getting long. I started to become really nauseous myself (probably not related to the previous Trash Can Hugger) and not having tested in while, I walked and found out I had my first not great blood sugar of the day, 260. What a spike but easily could have been due to a few extra carbs. I treated myself to a bolus. A couple miles later, feeling good, tested again and I was 80. I would have been happy if I was a steady 80 but a quick drop usually has a looming low ahead. Good thing I have a nice stash in my pocket, pop one and run on. I love having a healthy stomach and never really had any GI issues in races--the discomfort is usually diabetic related and today diabetes was in check. In the months previous, as much training as I did, I did twice as much diabetes training. Before the workout, planning specifically for nutrition to be accurate and on point, each hour taking in a steady amount. Too few or too much at any point can do (scarcastically) wonderful things. Testing my blood sugar during the workout, adjusting insulin level (basal or bolus) or carbs, then after the workout also led to some issues that needed to be worked out before the IM. I learned a ton through this journey, especially realizing how complex the body's processes is; although, only breaking the surface as there is a whole world underneath that too I'm sure. That I'll leave for textbooks. Anyway, back to the race (again). That glucose issue was the only one of the day, other than that, practice had made perfect, tweaking = A+. At this point in the race, I was pleasantly delighted to realize it felt better to run than walk. With plenty of walkers all around, I resisted most of the attempts to walk alongside and make a friend. Looking at my pace one might question if I was running or walking but for most of the marathon I was seemingly running. Aid stations were great for thousands of reasons: a light source, a boost of encouragement, food/fluid, a mental checkpoint, and a reason to walk. Coming back to the 13.1 mark, hearing the crowd, feeling the blisters forming somewhere in my shoes, looking for certain spectators, reading the signs, I got excited to think the next time I come through here, I would have accomplished much. Out again, this time to put a fork in it. The darkness was quite relaxing and cool. I began wondering what story each person would be able to tell of the way he/she got to the starting line. What an interesting story that would be. At some point, I knew Mark had finished, he was in gloryland, pushing a little faster to get to see him. Poppa Pepper was on the course with me and saw him walking so fast in the zone he needed to be reeled in for a quick hug. Running along side a man who this was his third IM of the season, he had trained for the first and spaced out the others just enough to recover and carry through the training to each event. He would finish with his slowest time but was happy as could be. We kept a shuffle and the chatter until it was time to say see you at the finish. At this point you can listen to the happy volunteers saying "almost there!" I love having your name on your bib and it never got old hearing, "Holly, you're going to be an Ironman tonight!" Ahh, the twinge of happiness still hasn't gotten stale. The costumed aid station was now in full force and the woman dressed as a cat provactively amusing herself with racers as they passed by. Coming up to the last mile as if I hadn't reflected enough over the last 14 hours, was the culmination of many months and began realizing what was about to happen. Eyes in the form of tears and lungs both affected slightly when it began to hit me. With about a mile away, I still needed both and decided to venture the thoughts in another direction. I began to look to the faces in the crowd and see all the faces of families tired but still cheering. Already hearing the roar of the crowd and the live microphoned voice of Mike Reilly as I turned the corner on to the ending drive, I began to feel what its like to be a true rockstar. A slight bit of confusion as I was lost in my head, "how do I get to the finish line?" trusting someone with a few beers in him had a bit more direction than I did at this point led me to the finish chute. The lights glaring, quick look behind me: no one. The stage is mine, this is my moment. Pure elation as I used the crowd as if I had won. Children still awake and feeding off my energy as I crused in for a high five. All I could do was scream, even scare a few. All the thinking about Mike Reilly's voice, all I hear amongst my head chatter was "from Austin TX" and me saying "I asked them to change that--I'm not from Austin." Thankfully my sister captured the video so I could go back to see what it looked and sounded like. About half way down the chute, I remembered my dance I had rehearsed at home. Ekk, I almost forgot. With a great percentage of the energy I had left, I danced about half of it with little precision or grace. Crossing the finish and being done.
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The finish line was everything I expected. I expended all I had. All the work put in, the reward was worth every minute. No one knows how much you've thought, planned, trained, worried, spent to get to this point but you. However, I didn't do this alone, nor could I have the motivation. Those people in my life that were my supporters, there to encourage me and help me realize my goal were fantastic. As much an individual sport on a daily basis, the group that were there with me that day was much bigger than any team sport. Even still, I cannot get over how many people reached out to me for this. I am just left with a deep thankfulness that I cannot truely express.
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Today is one month out from the race. Seems like so much longer than a month, but yet the emotions are so fresh. I wanted to write this down in such fine detail in order to remember the experience as best as I can (especially with my memory). To sum it up: hard work physically and mentally + daily dedication and focus + support from others = realizing a dream has come true. Enjoy the accomplishment.
