Chapter 2: The Journey

13 miles and over 7 hours to complete it, I had the time to do whatever I pleased. A thought crossed my mind when going through the halfway point “should I ask Gregory to take the camera?” Because really, I was not going anywhere fast and if I was going to do this and fulfill my one desire (to have fun and enjoy) I figured what better way to catch it on camera. However, then I realized that it was not a good idea since I would probably kill the camera with the sweat/puke/water that seemed to encompass me on this journey.

I headed back down State Street for round #2. I always say to myself during this point of the Ironman “this may be the last, so enjoy it” and I always seem to end up back where I started, so I didn’t tell myself it would be the last, but rather, “no more for a while…enjoy it” For some reason this takes the urgency out of the equation. This year, I giggled because I was not looking for a tampon, but damn, I was hurting.

I wish I could put a positive spin on everything, and I sure as hell try to, but this time around, I was in pain, physically and emotionally to extents, I had never experienced before. I kept asking myself “how much more can I endure??” And every time I stopped to walk, I told myself…”just get it under control and then start running again” Truthfully, my run was not a run, it was a shuffle. I recalled a few weeks ago when I had my strongest long run, and laughed at what I considered a “run” now. That is the beauty of Ironman, it humbles and it brings you down to your roots.

I decided to throw all of my strategies/rules and plans out of the window; I knew I needed calories, so I did the one thing that I knew would not hurt me any more than I was hurting (hey, I had 7 hours to spend walking and on the porto-john if necessary, LOL!) I turned to the dark side and started drinking COKE!! OMG…what a wonderful taste, feeling and boost you get from coke. Coke literally rips my guts apart, but I figured I could not do any more damage than what had already been done, and I wanted to look forward to something… I mean WHO looks forward to WATER at an aid station?? I also started eating a few chips and kept them down!! Whooo hoooo..things were looking good!

Every step hurt and I just wanted to sit down and stop. There were many times where I would go for a ¼ mile thinking “just run one mile and walk the aid station” but I couldn’t and had to walk. The tanks were empty; thankfully my brain was in overdrive! So, I made it back down to state street with the music blasting and beer flowing; this is one of my favorite parts of the course. You really cannot focus on yourself because there is too much going on. I promised myself I would “run this part”. So, I stated doing my “run” (gimped shuffle) and made it up and down state street without a HR spike and other than the physical pain, I really was starting to feel a bit better energy-wise (it’ s called the “coke miracle”). I high fived little kids and thanked the “intoxicated” spectators for their support (they are the best!! Talk about enthusiastic!)
I then hit the 20 mile mark and chuckled to myself; my self-discovery journey started at mile 4…WAY too early for a marathon, but here I was, still going and still pushing my pathetic self to the finish. I had a bit of a pity party at that moment, thinking of the time I spent training, how the run is my strongest, and what an embarrassment I was to my sponsors, and then I took a look around me. People were walking, barfing and downright suffering and I was still shuffling and moving (albeit in pain); I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was at the end of my journey; I had covered 134.6 miles and was at the point where I was going to face the thing I was most scared off: myself. Moment of truth, what does Ironman mean to me?

I discovered exactly what I thought I would; I found out that I COULD do it. I had visualized this moment as me approaching the finish line, sub 11 hours, claiming my Kona spot, and being a HUGE success. Contrary to my predictions, this moment dawned on me at my lowest of lows, when I looked at the sun and I realized that it would be down soon and I had 4 miles to go. I asked a spectator what time it was and he said 6:15 pm. I was SURPRISED it was still that early (I thought I would be finishing over 13 hrs) and then put a new goal in my head: “Finish before the sun goes down, you owe your husband and dad that much. Last time your dad flew down for this he froze in the cold till well past 10 pm”

I literally told myself “suck it up princess” and after the 22 mile aid station I started back up…fast shuffle/walk, which then turned into an awkward shuffle/jog; that is as good as it got, but damn it HURT!! I was in a different world of pain, running on everything I had left to give. Mile 23 came and went; I discovered chicken broth (it has been a long time since I was out on the course late enough for the broth and I forgot how wonderful it is!!). Just keep moving..just keep moving; I came upon another man who seemed to be in a similar predicament and all I did was look at him and say “C’mon, let’s finish this bitch up…this is Ironman”…..and I kept going. My body was pretty much numb those last few miles, yet, the pain was so real; I don’t think I will ever allow myself to forget the pain because I know it will benefit me in my future challenges.

Then came the moment of truth, mile 25…and I broke down, literally. I was crying, I was so emotionally spent, exhausted and all I had was one more mile of a long, hellish, yet extraordinary rewarding day. Somehow, I managed to pick up my feet a little more coming up State Street moving more like a jog than a shuffle. I kept my eyes on the Capitol…just get yourself up this hill, around the block and you are done. I saw Joe and CTC members and cried more; I am so fortunate to have such wonderful friends and support. Every step, every breath hurt and I told myself “it is just temporary, soon it will be over” up State Street around the block and there is was…the finish…

But, off to my right were my wonderful husband and dad. I stopped, gave Gregory a kiss and cried…I looked at the clock, and at the sun, I had made it, I had beat the sun….it may have not been what I had hoped for or knew what I was capable, but it was everything I NEEDED from the day….

I was and Ironman, but more important, I was sure I had given it everything. I always question what it might be like to have a “perfect day” when I might hit my goals and get a Kona spot…but that will have to wait. What I DO know is what a day looks like when you have given EVERYTHING you have…just for one day, I towed the line, no questions, no quitting, no hesitations…this was MY day, and it is one that I will remember and take with me throughout my life and will help me tackle new challenges.

I am an Ironman!