Looville

Well. It certainly was a fun-filled week!
Tom and I arrived a day before TJ, Alisha (TJ’s signo) and Norma Jean who opted to drive down with bikes in tow, and were greeted with sunshine, warmth and that delightful KY accent. Trying to stretch our legs, we walked down to the waterfront and strolled along until we came to the swim start which I recognized from the copious videos I’d seen online. As we sat at Tumbleweeds, the riverside restaurant, watching the scullers move down the lagoon it hardly seemed possible that in 4 short days I too would be in that water.

The following day was busy with getting registered – picking up gear bags, timing chips, instructions for when/where/how to get our bike gear and run gear at the appropriate places by the appropriate times. We stayed as far away as humanly possible from the frenzy that is the Ironman venue in an attempt to keep me as calm and relaxed as possible. Having my kooky family around me sure helped!

The Fam - Norma Jean, Tom, Jen, humpin' TJ & Cliff

On Saturday we had to take our bikes and gear bags to the first transition area. Alisha had reconned the area earlier and told us to leave it as long as possible since the line ups were insane – in the heat – so we strolled down just before 5:00pm/closing time and had the place to ourselves.

On our way to rack the bikes

Okay. So us and 3000 bicycles!

Saturday August 29 - T1

IM Louisville has a rather unique swim start – not the much filmed mass starts that you see on NBC for Kona – but a “time trial” start meaning we line up beforehand and as the gun goes off, we jump in single file, an athlete every 2 to 3 seconds from 2 different docks. What this meant is in order to get a reasonable place in line we had to be at the start a couple of hours before our official 7:00am send off. Meaning a very early start!

Up at 4:00am, ate as much as humanly possible, not very easy given the early hour AND the butterflies. I was still feeling remarkably calm given my propensity toward total freak out mode. Tom drove me down to T1 to put my water bottles on my bike and check my tires. TJ had opted to walk down with Alisha. Cliff had rollerbladed down to the start to grab a place in line for us. He’d texted Alisha saying no one was there so it was all good. Little did he realize that he hadn’t looked in the right spot. Cliff met up with me and we headed down to the start. As we got to the head of the ramp where we would run down to the dock, a line of people in sleeping bags, on folding chairs, curled up on the pavement, sitting quietly waiting, we headed for the back of the line. “Ooops!” Cliff said. “Didn’t realize THIS is where the line was!” We walked and walked and walked. And walked. Passed tons and tons of people before we found the end of the line and plopped down. Still dark. Very quiet given how many of us there were. It was about 5:30am. And we waited.

Waiting ...

As the sun rose, as the energy level rose so did my anxiety level. By the time the lines were on the move, I was frozen in terror. I plugged in my iPod, listened to my theme song (What I’ve Done/Linkin Park) which focused my energy and calmed me down. I was ready. Bring. It. On.

Let's do this thing!

The first third of the swim was between an island and the shore, no more than 50m wide and even though this wasn’t the traditional “mass start”, it sure felt like it as I was pummeled and swum over, whacked in the head, hauled down by the shoulders and even had a hurtful direct hit to the outside of my left (read: injured) knee. Still. At one point, as I turned to breathe, I glimpsed the word “Ironman” on someone’s cap beside me and I grinned. Yup. This was IT!

By about the 3000m mark I was SO tired and ready to be done but the last bridge seemed to be aggravatingly out of reach. Frankly, I hadn’t expected to be so tired during the swim. In fact of all 3 disciplines, the swim was the one I’d worried about least. Guess I was getting my first taste of the unexpected that is expected in Ironman! I plugged along, managing to sight someone just up ahead and try to reach them and then the red buoy appeared. Oh lovely red buoy signifying the turn to shore! I put my head down and hauled ass to the stairs. Up and out of the water. One third done!

Out on the bike

The bike course is described as “rolling hills”. And it did not disappoint. We’d driven the course on Friday so I pretty much knew what I was up against. I’d read many, many cautions about pushing it too hard, too fast, too soon so I settled in and JPA – Just Pedaled Along. Hundreds of people passed me. I wasn’t worried. I knew if I kept at a 25k pace I’d finish where I wanted. And that worked fine until the start of the first lap around La Grange. My brain just suddenly decided that this wasn’t fun. And why the hell was I doing this anyway?!? I can only assume in retrospect that I hadn’t been fueling well enough and my low glycogen levels were dragging me down. I tried to find Tom in the crowd in La Grange and signal that I needed a pep talk but the crowds were insane. When I did finally see him, I swerved and almost smashed into someone which kept me moving. It was going to be a long 50k before I got the chance for some moral support.

Fields of Kentucky

Something else I hadn’t anticipated was the enormity that is riding with 3000 other people. There were some windy, twisty, narrow roads and many of the cyclists were super aggressive. It got pretty scary by times. As I was heading into a feed zone close to where the second lap started, some idiot veered right in front of me and I couldn’t unclip in time sending me plummeting to the pavement. Onto my left knee. Gouged my right ankle into my chain ring, bashed my seat enough that it turned almost 90deg. I was REALLY ready for a family cheer up session!

La Grange

Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could do a race of this magnitude without support. My family is what got me through this. They were the life blood. They were there to pick me up and help me get back onto the bike and finish. It was a long ride. And I was never so glad to get off that friggin’ thing (sorry Simon!) and back on terra firma!!

Two-thirds done

I was at the ten hour mark as I headed out of T2 – an hour behind where I thought I’d be but still enough time to walk/run through the run. I knew that my knee would be the make or break and I wanted to save it as long as I possibly could so I walked up the bridge and back where Norma Jean joined me for the first 20k loop of the run. I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t even feel that tired. Just goes to show how much adrenaline must have been pumping through my body! We ran a bit and walked a bit. My lower GI was giving me a bit of trouble so I probably wasn’t fueling as much as I should have been but I was drinking at every aid station. We passed TJ and Cliff (who was rollerblading alongside) at my 8k mark as he was headed back to the finish line. I am SO proud. Go TJ!!

TJ heading home

As we headed to the first turnaround, we realized that I’d need to start picking up the pace. More running, less walking. And of course, as I did that, my knee started to hurt. At first, I was able to run for 6 or 7 minutes and walk for one. Then 5min/1min. Then 3min/2min. And then it started to hurt while I walked.

My Hero

Norma Jean was my saviour. She took my watch and timed us. She urged me on. “Come on, Mom. You’re doing great. Looking good. Just 30 more seconds. Okay let’s walk.” and “Just to the next lamp post Mom. Looking good. You’re doing great.” At about the 17k mark, Cliff joined us as well. And things started to slide fast. As the pain increased, my head down, I’d just move through the aid stations. Norma Jean would reach for water and make me drink. But I couldn’t eat anything.

This hurts

Dusk started to fall. Those of us still on our first laps started to worry about making the cut off of 9:15 for our second lap. I had to pick up the pace. We power walked when I couldn’t run. The world gets pretty hazy at this point. I remember heading down toward the finish line, seeing the bright lights, hearing the man’s voice synonymous with “You are an Ironman”, and in the cruelty that is this race, we turn back out and head for our second 20k lap. We pick up Tom who’s been waiting, wondering where I am. We briefly congratulate ourselves, the forgotten athletes, as we head back out on the road. It is now completely dark. The crowds have left. The only one’s left are the volunteers at the aid stations, the athletes on their final lap and those of us trying desperately to make the final cut off of midnight.

And from here on in, I’m blank. My family relates what transpires but I don’t remember any of it. They get me to run 2 pylons and walk 2 pylons. Cliff starts to make some calculations based on my current pace which is getting slower by the minute. I become delusional. Not able to answer simple questions, “What comes after ABC Mom?” “What’s 1+1 Mom?” My eyes start rolling in the back of my head. I’m told to focus on the red traffic lights and I mutter, “Red lights. Red lights.” I weave between Norma Jean on one side and Tom on the other. I stumble. I’m caught. And I move forward. Cliff estimates that even though we still have close to 2 hours, I will not make the cut off. Prior to leaving home, I’ve extracted the promise from Tom not to pull me off the course. I know that I would never forgive him. Cliff tells me, “Come over to the curb and sit down Mom.” Hoping that maybe it will revive me. Norma Jean and Tom steer me to the side. They help me sit down. And I pass out.

Emergency Medical Services

EMS is called. They do an assessment. I am unresponsive. They load me onto a stretcher and put in the ambulance. They plug in an IV, oxygen, try and get me to answer questions. I don’t remember any of it.

In the ambulance

They take me to the IM medical tent where I’m assessed. Body temp, down. Blood sugars, down. Hydration, down. My knee is in excruciating pain and it’s the one thing I remember, it being touched and it sending electric shocks through my body enough to jolt me back into consciousness. It’s wrapped in ice and bandaged. Three IV bags later and I slowly start to come around. Cliff and Alisha come for us and we get home around 12:30. It’s been a very very long day!

So.

No. I’m not an Ironman. But I didn’t quit. I went as far as my body would take me. And if I couldn’t cross the finish line, being carted off at mile 20 by ambulance has gotta be a close second!

Thanks for hanging in there with me. It certainly has been a ride!