Ironman Florida - TriathlonFull Ironman

The swim was awesome! Waves and current, but quite frankly just fun ;) I kicked back and stayed completely comfortable and avoided every problem I could foresee (one guy clunked me in the head and said, "Oh, sorry!" "No worries" and on we swam). Seemed like the first lap flew by even though I was trying to "swim calm" as my sister had recommended. Between laps, I got a pour-in-the-mouth of water and waved at my sisters who were screaming at the edge. Second lap felt longer (which it was) and rougher (which, according to some of the reports I've seen, it was), but no more problematic. By the end, I could feel my shoulder whining a bit but thought nothing of it--after all, it's all legs from there, right? Oh so very wrong. Used the wetsuit strippers for the first time, which was an interesting experience! Got another pour-in-the-mouth on my way up the chute.

Nothing. I made the right choices for this first time. In future races, I would be more aggressive--not in fighting or swimming over others but in speed.

I walked the whole thing--I was trying to stay calm and within my bounds and make sure that I didn't forget anything. My little sister was there and talked while we got ready and she gave me a sip of her Gatorade before she took off. I was glad I insisted on a second coat of sunblock--an hour over my planned time on the bike still left me pink.

I still wouldn't run, to be honest, but clearly transition practice for efficiency would help quite a bit!

I dropped my bottle the first time I took a drink. It was a sign. I was racing with my HRM for the first time and kept checking in to make sure I was within my limits. And I was. I was singing, "The wheels on the bike go round and round..." and making up more verses. "The girl on the bike goes ouch ouch ouch" was funny until it was too true.
By the halfway point, I'd noticed that I must have been holding myself funny because my left tricep was quite sore. But I was on pace and though I'd been passed by everyone and their second cousin, I was ok. Besides, my husband was waiting for me at special needs and that helped!
By mile 60 my left arm hurt continuously and I'd taken to curling my left arm every couple of minutes to relieve my tricep.
By mile 70, the headwind and the few excuses for hills and the pain were taking a toll. My sisters were there, screaming and blasting music, but I was struggling.
By 75, I'd resorted to leaning my left elbow on the handlebar and gripping the horn with my right for control and to unweight, which pissed off my hips and quads. I was trying not to squeak whenever I changed positions because everything hurt.
By 90, I had set a new goal: to finish by the bike cut-off and then to keep moving forward on the run course until they pulled me off. I didn't stop when my sisters reappeared. When my husband appeared at 105, I rode past him too. I was afraid to stop though it was what I wanted more than nearly anything else in the world at that point.
I don't know how to quantify pace and effort here--according to my HRM, I stayed within Z2 as I'd planned, but it took everything I had to keep riding. By the end, the soles of both feet were hot and hurting as well and I couldn't imagine doing a marathon.
Luckily, Front Beach Road had a crosswind, which, after the headwind, felt like a tailwind and I flew along like an ostrich.

The problem is that I couldn't fix the problem. My shoulder was damaged going into the race. I HAD to compensate for it--it hurt too badly to hold my form. I kept shifting to try to minimize damage in any one area, but there was nothing I could do short of quitting to fix the problem. Prevention would be key here--getting any issues checked as soon as they appear and simply riding more in general.

The T2 volunteers were absolute angels. The lady standing guard at the changing area entrance started clapping for me as I came down the hall and it did me in. I was crying as I walked into the area and 3 volunteers were around me almost instantaneously, asking what I needed and what they could do for me. All I could do was shake my head. One lady stuck with me while another fetched me paper towels to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. The first lady knelt right in front of me and unloaded my bag and stuck my ginger and gels in my back pocket and handed me my ginger beer and told me to take a minute. I was afraid if I sat any longer after changing my socks and shoes that I wouldn't make it to the finish line.

Under ordinary circumstances, efficient practice again and ditching most of the nutrition I carried because it was unnecessary. In this case, I simply didn't know that, so I was conservative. I needed those minutes to get myself back under control and face the run course.

When I saw the clock on my way out of T2 and realized I could still make it (math isn't my strong point), I was so relieved!
I hadn't even reached mile 1 before I saw my little sister, almost back to special needs and she screamed and jumped me, almost hiccuping as she didn't quite cry, saying, "I was so afraid you weren't going to make it" over and over. She was clearly in great shape and moving well and I sent her on her way quickly, saying I was fine. My family has video of her blubbing into her shirt when she talked to them just a minute later. Maybe a minute down the road, I saw my parents and my mom trotted into oncoming runner traffic to come hug me and get teary and say how glad she was to see me and that I was still going. I told her I was fine and that I was glad too, then I trotted on.
I quickly realized that the hot spots that had developed on the bottoms of both feet by the finish of the bike were blisters and that more were sprouting on my smallest toes as well, despite my sock change in T2. But, as my supportive husband (who hung out at about mile 4) pointed out, "You don't need feet tomorrow." When he was given the bad reports from the bike, he decided that what I needed to motivate me was what I always needed: pumpkins. So he went and bought two--carved one with an Mdot and the other with my name, put candles in them and his poster for me in between and waited for me to arrive. I hugged and kissed him and the people about 25 feet away said, 'Oh, you're Lisa?" I said, "Yes, aren't I lucky?" And they agreed :)
I trotted when I could, walked like a drunken sailor when I couldn't. I didn't eat hardly anything--maybe half of my crystallized ginger. Otherwise it was water, coke, and sports drink.
I saw my little sister again after I'd made the turnaround in St. Andrews and she was coming toward it--I told her to catch up and we'd talk. A lady near me laughed incredulously and I told her that it was Shana's second lap and my first--she'd catch me! But she didn't. I made it to special needs and was drinking my ginger beer when she ran up. I yelled and she paused momentarily to hug me, but the finish chute was right there and I pushed her toward it--"Go--run Girlie run!" And she did, scooting under 13 hours with 3 seconds to spare!
I headed back out. My feet hurt worse and worse and my left shoe started to squish. Since it had hurt worse all along, I had nasty mental images of a bloody sock. But, as Adam had pointed out, I only had to survive the night. Besides, I hitched along so badly when I walked that it hurt my shoulder. But I walked the last 3 miles anyway; my dad and my older sister joined me. They were all hyped up and talkative and my best responses were terse bordering on rude. I would have trotted more had they not been there, honestly.
When I reached the chute, I encouraged the two people I passed just beforehand, saying, "C'mon! Let's jog just the last little bit!" They didn't take me up on it. But I was NOT walking under the arch. And I could NOT stop smiling when I crossed the finish line.

I should really pack blister supplies for T2 to carry and for special needs, though I hate to think of more time stopping to take care of things. I might ask my family not to join me at any point--I can push myself better when they're not continually there. I knew it was against the rules but I figured they weren't pacing me and I was actually slower with them than without and the course wasn't exactly crowded at that point! Being the hopelessly law-abiding person that I am, it DID bother me.

I sat on the floor in the hotel and ate pizza while my family flapped and squawked and took pictures and my little sister tried to convince me to lay down. We walked back to the condo, 0.6m away, after waiting til midnight to scream in the last finishers.


Shoulder, blisters, family.


Volunteers were AWESOME! Just wonderful! And we stayed til midnight, watching the last people come in and screaming with the rest of the crowd. Gave me goosebumps! I swear every non-racer there was pulling hard for every finisher. One person crossed about 30s after midnight and the announcer said, "It's not too late to make some noise" and we all did, but the lady who crossed at 17:04 and change got nothing from the announcer, though the crowd that hadn't started walking away yelled for her.