My swimming was really fine. I was doing well getting to the first two buoys. I had to pee before the first buoy, but was able to go in the wetsuit and it was warming for a bit. I was feeling really good about the swim for the first half. I played songs in my head, dodged people's feet, had to go around two guys backstroking, and felt like I was going to make it fine.

I started feeling some discomfort in my lower abdomen about the start of the third leg. I have a couple uterine fibroids about the size of golfballs (doc says one is the size of a small orange), so I'm used to discomfort on the swim and the run. Still no big deal.

About midway through the third leg, it got a little choppy in the water, and there was one time I swallowed some water and coughed a bit, but I still wasn't fazed. I just kept going, but now I could feel my legs start to shake inside the wetsuit. I started to kick to get some warmth in the legs, and the discomfort in my abdomen started to turn to pain.

As I kept swimming, I could feel the pain build in my lower abdomen. I forced myself to urinate again and the pain lessened, and I could keep going. But there came a point when I couldn't swim and urinate. The pain became almost overwhelming, and there was a kayaker nearby, so I swam over and asked (through chattering teeth) to hang on for a while. We had a bit of a conversation where I told him I was in so much pain, but I still wanted to do this, so he said he'd stick by me. His name was Brook, and he really did stick by me through the entire last part of the course. When I hung on, I was able to hang and urinate, and that eased the pressure so I could get going again. Through the entire swim, I peed five or six times, three times while hanging on to Brook's kayak.

Looking back, I think the combination of the fibroids, tampon (period had started a couple days earlier), and the cold water somehow squeezed either my bladder or uterus so much that even a little volume of urine created so much pressure that it was unbearable. I guess it could be cramping, but it didn't feel like that, and urinating wouldn't relieve cramps.

I thought about quitting. I was shaking so bad in the water, and I hurt so bad, I really thought about it. But there was one guy who said, c'mon, we're almost there (we weren't), we can do this. So I thought about everyone watching at home and if I could just get through the swim, there was still a chance I could get to that finish line. The one comment that really stunned me was when Brook said, come on, you've still got 20 minutes, you can make the cutoff. I looked at my watch and it said 1:39, and I had just rounded the red buoy at the end of the fourth leg. I could see the swim finish. But to worry about the swim cutoff? It never entered my head that I wouldn't make the swim cutoff! Either he was wrong or I heard him wrong because I still had 40 minutes, but still, the longer I was out there, the less chance I'd have to make the bike cutoff. So I really tried hard to make it to the shore. And I did, in 2:01:05.


Not quite sure. I was prepared for the cold water, but never had pain like this.

I saw a couple of people on stretchers as I came out of the water, and a few people with the space blankets surrounded by volunteers. It never occurred to me to look for a warming tent or to stop and warm up, I just had to keep going even though I was shaking violently. I guess I wasn't as bad as others because I just walked into the changing tent with my bag and tried to start changing. My hands wouldn't work and three volunteers came up to help me. But I had to go to the bathroom again, so I did that first, and then returned. I couldn't do anything for myself, except I had to put the chamois cream on myself, but it didn't exactly go where needed. The volunteers were great, and asked me questions, like "what is this?' when they picked up my heart rate monitor, and somehow I got changed. I suppose not having to change out of the wet swimsuit and into dry clothing would have reduced my transition time, but on the other hand, at least I got warm enough to get on the bike. I also put on all of my clothes, which was also a mistake. I had packed a short sleeve jersey, arm warmers AND a long sleeve jersey. I wore the long sleeve jersey over the short sleeve and arm warmers, and that did help. The volunteers also brought me hot cocoa, which also helped. I had to go to the bathroom one last time before getting on the bike, but I had a really hard time with the shaking hands.

I finally took time to look at my watch as I got my bike and my heart sank. It was 9:18. My goal had been to get out of the swim by 8:40, spend 10 minutes in transition, and be on the bike well before 9:00 because I knew I needed a full 8.5 hours to make the bike cutoff. I knew at this point I had about a 10% chance of making the 5:30 cutoff, but I got on the bike anyway.


Only one jersey. Not much I could do about the hypothermia.

My goal on the bike was to push the largest gear possible at 90 RPM, and hopefully that would be fast enough to get through all of the cutoffs. I was feeling OK. The two jerseys kept the wind off, and I was starting to warm up a bit. I kept high cadence and even passed a couple of people (guys!) going up the first hill. After the first couple of hills, though, my right hip and groin area started to hurt. I eased up a little, thinking it would just go away, but it never did. I said to myself, c'mon -- you expected a little pain, but can I get through the first 20 miles at least? Nope. As the ride progressed, my right groin muscle (abductor?) started to lock up, and I found myself pedaling mostly with my left leg in some places.

But while dealing with that, I was determined to enjoy the course. I spent most of the time on the hoods since getting down into the drops increased the pain in my right leg. So I looked around, enjoyed the scenery, said thank you to the volunteers and spectators as I passed, and tried to have as good a time as possible. I ate out of my Bento box, and took my salt tablets every half hour (hoping it was a cramp that hit my leg and maybe salt would help). I watched the time, watched my speed, and just kept going. I skipped the first aid station, and made it through the first cutoff with plenty of time to spare.

I was starting to get really warm by the time I hit the second aid station, so I stopped, took off my long sleeve jersey, stretched my right groin muscle, and refilled my Speedfil. Got back on the bike and started doing some math. I couldn't remember where the 12:30 p.m. cutoff was, but I hoped to beat it.

I saw a race official parked on the side of the road near the Gunlock reservoir, and he asked the guy in front of me if it was his second loop. The guy said yes. The official never asked me. I guess I looked OK. At that point, my right leg was really hurting: the groin muscle, hip, and hamstring. It was windy heading up toward Gunlock, and I kept wondering when and if the officials would pull me from the course. I wanted to finish at least one loop of the course, so I didn't make eye contact with any officials from there on out.

I stopped at the third aid station to use the portapottie and I almost fell off my bike because my right leg wouldn't work. I hobbled to the portapottie, then back to my bike. The volunteers peeled a banana for me, and I ate part and put part in my Bento box. It was a little gross to eat a banana out of my Bento box with long fingered gloves, but I have to say that I didn't have any nutrition problems on the ride.

Pretty soon I was to the Veyo Wall. This is the switchback that has the 18% grade at the top. My goal was to make it up the wall without having to get off the bike, and I did it. I got out of the saddle (which actually felt kind of good on that right leg), and I made it. I was so happy for about five seconds at the top, and then my head exploded. It was migraine-like pain, without the other migraine symptoms. My eyes teared up, and I damn near started sobbing. "You have got to be kidding me!" I thought. What else is this day going to throw at me? Talk about a mess! I must have looked really bad at that point, because a volunteer said "there's an aid station about a mile and a half away." My thought was medical aid -- maybe they'll have some aspirin I can take and keep going. But when I reached the aid station, it was a regular aid station with water and gatorade. I grabbed a banana (didn't stop) and just kept going.

I was really relieved to see the Veyo turn just after that aid station. I checked my time and distance, and I was having trouble doing the math. Could I make the 2:00 cutoff at mile 54? Was it 2:00 or 2:30? I couldn't remember, but I figured that I might be able to make it if I really hammered. I also had a decision to make -- stop and pick up special needs at mile 52, or keep going to mile 54? I'd have to decide as I got closer.

I did some more math and knew that even if I made the mile 54 cutoff, there was no way possible that I could complete another loop by 5:30. But I still wanted to complete the first loop, so I decided to skip all my goodies in special needs and try to hit the mile 54 cutoff, which I reached at 2:08. To my surprise, there was no one at mile 54. Even though (I thought) it had been one of the published cutoffs, there was no one there. As it turns out, the cutoff was at mile 64 (the start of the second loop) t 2:05, so all of my worry about mile 54 was for nought.

I knew my time was too late to continue on the second loop, so I said to myself, you might as well enjoy this downhill, because you'll never get to do this again. So I did. I really enjoyed the last ten miles, most of which were downhill. I hit 41 mph on the way down, the fastest I've ever gone on a bike. And I felt okay about it until a gust pushed my bike sideways a little, and then I decided to slow down. But I never felt out of control. And coasting allowed me to stretch my legs, so even that felt better.

I felt pretty sad as the downhill ended and I came up to the turn. I knew what was going to happen, but I didn't know when. It was at the end of the hill where I should have been able to go straight that they had cones blocking my lane and officials motioning for me to stop. There was already another cyclist stopped there. I stopped, unclipped, and said, "So this is where my day ends, huh?" "For you and about about 50 people before you," the official said. Then he took my chip. I couldn't stop the tears, but I didn't completely break down. It was a bit of a relief because I was hurting bad, and had been hurting all day. But it was still hard.


Not sure what I could have done. I don't think I ever completely recovered from the cold swim. I truly believe that on a warmer swim, I would have been able to make it, even with the right leg and headache pains.

They told me I could wait for a vehicle to take me back, or just get back on the course and ride back. I decided to ride back as I was still capable, and I saw just how mean the course was. I joined in with the finishers grinding back up that hill I had just ridden down after the turn, then followed onto 18 and onto Diagonal. I was not hammering like the finishers. I was pretty darn low. I passed the run aid stations and volunteers would call to me, "come on, you're almost there, you can do it!" Nobody notices you don't have a chip. Nobody knows you've just been DNF'ed. They cheer for you anyway, and you feel like crap. I wonder if I would have taken the vehicle had I known how hard riding to the finish would be.

On the way back to the finish, I thought about changing into my run clothes and doing at least one loop of the run. Who would notice I didn't have a chip? Would anyone? But I quickly discarded that notion for many reasons.

I had to explain to the volunteers at bike in that I had DNF'ed and I didn't know what to do next. They told me that I had to turn in my bike and couldn't get it until 6 p.m., and I couldn't get my morning clothes (which had keys to my vehicle, my cellphone, etc.) until 6 p.m. I asked if I could at least get my run clothes so i didn't have to walk around in bike shoes until 6, as it was only about 2:45. They said sure, so I retrieved my run bag and went into the tent. I didn't know it at the time, but Dean was right behind me, saw me go into the changing tent and heard me say I had DNF'ed.

I took some time changing, tried hard not to cry, and left the area. One of the volunteers saw my bag and pointed for me to leave the whole area, so then I was outside of the athlete area. I wasn't sure what to do. I was hungry, thirsty, in pain, miserable, and had no communications. I figured Dean should be coming in on the bike soon, so I went up to the bike in and watched for about 45 minutes. I didn't see him and I was starting to get cold in my running shorts. So I went over to the morning clothes area and asked if I could retrieve my bag since I was getting very cold, and they brought my bags to me.

My cellphone was in one of my bags, and I stared at it for a while. I knew people were watching my splits at home. I knew I should call some people and tell them I wasn't going to finish. But I didn't feel like talking to anyone. So I finally posted a notice on Facebook letting nearly everyone know that I wasn't going to finish, and left it at that. Then I started walking to the car (now that I had car keys -- thank goodness Dean and I had the foresight to each take a set of car keys that morning), and Elliot called me. He had already seen the post on Facebook, and was downtown. Was there anything he could do for me? I said I was really hungry and had no food or water or money, so he volunteered to get something for me. That was the tastiest pork taco i've ever eaten!

When I took my bags to my car, I retrieved my Canon camera, and went to the west side of the circle where I could watch bikes in, runners out, and runners turning around. This also meant I had to listen to Mike Riley tell several hundred people "You are an Ironman!" while I plastered a smile on my face and tried to look like every other spectator (considering I was now wearing my morning sweats, which covered the race numbers, I did look like any other spectator). Taking pictures gave me something to do, and I caught Robin biking in and running out about 4:30, Jen running out, and Dean starting his second loop at about 5:05. I kept watching for Adela, even past 5:30, but never saw her. Then it would be a while before we saw anyone else, so Elliot, Kevin and I found a place to sit down.

I staged at the finish line to get a photo of Dean around 7 p.m. Elliot was sure he was going to break 12 hours, but I didn't think so. Dean came in at 12:20:59, although we didn't know the exact time until later because the clock was broken when he came across. Since I still had my athlete wristband, they let me in to join Dean after his photo, and I got him some food and we both got massages. I didn't want to keep the table too long with real Ironmen finishing, but it felt good to get that right groin muscle worked on, and that helped in the long run.

Even though Dean was really worn out, he was a trooper and hung around to watch almost everyone else come in. We saw Andy, Robin, Josh, and Fish all come in. By that time (past 10 p.m.), we were both exhausted, and called it a day. I think the hardest thing, mentally and emotionally, was watching so many people finish, and knowing that I had trained hard enough to finish, but wasn't strong enough to finish.



Cold, pain.


I hate to say this race was too hard based on my ability. Again, I really think that I was trained to do the hills, that I could have done them had I not sabotaged myself on the swim. And I'm not sure what I could have done differently on the swim. I may try this race again in the future.