This is what I feared more than anything. The swim. I was so scared of the cold water. I don't take cold temps very well, and it was bad enough that I was nervous about doing my first full Ironman. I heard the cannon go off, and I wasn't even in the water yet! I was way in the back, and spent a couple minutes just walking into the water and getting ready for the swim, while most of the athletes were already on their way. Oddly enough, I adjusted to the cold water quite well. After about 5 minutes of swimming, I wasn't even cold any more. I was shocked at how well I was doing, and even more surprised at how many people I kept passing. I was really feeling confident at this point, and felt great when I made it to the boat ramp. I told myself all morning that if I could just get through the cold swim, everything would be ok. I made it, and I was really excited!

Nothing. Swim was perfect!

T1 was a bit slow, but I knew the outside temps were still pretty low and didn't want to freeze on the bike. I made it to the change tent, stripped down, dried off and changed into my dry cycling clothes. The feeling in my hands and feet came back quite quickly. I noticed a lot of women shaking uncontrollably from the cold water, and I was again shocked at how well I handled the cold swim. I guess my chunky figure finally gave me an advantage.

Nothing

Funny enough, this is where I was most confident. I drove the course the day before, and I thought I was ready to take this on. I trained on as many hills as I could find back home in Phoenix. Every weekend since October I had been driving 50 miles out of my way to ride my bike on hills. The first 22 miles was nothing. I handled the hills well. The first loop also wasn't too bad. It was definitely difficult, especially the "Veyo Wall", but I refused to dismount my bike and walk it up any hills, so on the bike I remained. It was a slow climb, but I still made it. The first downhill portion on the loop had me cruising at 42 mph. I still felt confident about making the cutoff time, because I thought I'd be making up time on the downhill portion. I still felt great! Then came the second loop. The wind started to pick up, and hill after hill I found myself getting more slow and more tired. The wind got so strong, one of the street barricade signs when flying across the street and blocked me. I had to hit the brakes and let some volunteers move it out of the way so I could continue. I hit the "Veyo Wall" again and still found the strength to slowly climb it, although I could tell I was moving much slower. I started to worry about cutoff times again, but still thought I'd make it with that downhill section. The last hill let me know just how tired I was. I could barely move. I even started talking to myself, telling myself that I could do this. By the time I got to the second loop downhill section, the wind was really taking off. I thought I could cruise at 42 mph again and make up time, but I was wrong. The wind was so strong, it nearly sent me flying off my bike on a couple occassions. It felt like it was hitting me in all directions. I had to hit the brakes and slow it down to around 25 mph. I made it to T2, and I could tell I was about to receive some bad news, judging by the looks on the volunteers' faces. I tried to hold back my tears, but when the race official told me he was going to remove my timing chip, I couldn't hold it in any more. I lost control and started sobbing. I collected my bags and walked back to my hotel, while people congratulated me on finishing, obviously not aware that I had no finisher's medal around my neck. I went back to my room, cried some more, showered, and decided to go to the finish line and look for Kim, Dean, Robin, Jen and Josh so I could cheer them through (although I think by the time I got out there, Dean may have already finished). I stood by for about 30 minutes, but I couldn't do it any more. I hate crying in public, and every time I heard Mike Reilly say, "You are an Ironman!" I would start to tear up again. I decided to take myself out to dinner and end the night in my hotel room devouring a pint of chocolate ice cream in bed.

All I could do differently for this course is to train harder, which is hard for me to do with a full-time and part-time job. There are no hills at all in my neighborhood, so my only hill training was done on Saturdays and/or Sundays. As much as I hate to admit it, the truth of the matter is this course was simply too big for me.

Lack of time to train on the proper terrain, due to stupid jobs that I need in order to pay bills.


Well organized, beautiful location, and a great challenge for those who are a little more experienced.