IMAZ Race Report - Oh What a Night

The rest of the evening is a blur.  I slowly remember bits and pieces as the days go by since last Sunday, which is why I had to compile this race report in small bits.  


15 minute miles for 6 miles really should be a piece of cake. But somewhere around Mile 130 my body started to argue with my head an awful lot. Unfortunately, I was way undercaloried at this point.  I was running on steam.  Because of the tummy trouble, I couldn't take anything in. I tried to eat 5 grapes and would instantly regret it.  No fruit, no cookies, no pretzels, no gels.  I had to stick to liquids.  I kept going back to that sign that said, "pain heals" and I even asked myself, "What are you going to learn about yourself over the next 90 minutes?" Truly, I was curious.

While there is not supposed to be any outside assistance during an Ironman race, pretty much everyone out there on that course that time of night had someone with them. I never expected I would (because I never expected to be cutting it this ridiculously close).  But Robin was waiting for me by the lake and she asked what I wanted and I couldn't really answer. Of course I wanted her help. But I wasn't supposed to have any. So she just kept on running next to me (mind you in jeans and with a cinch sack on her back). She made me run to the first aid station, which was only maybe half a mile away, but felt like forever. I kept trying to stop and she just kept saying, "You can walk when we get to the aid station."  She told me random stories.  I remember something about Edward leaving the course to go to Cabela's (the hunting store) for a sale.  She told me how she ran down to the race earlier that day because she had to get a long run in that morning (11 miles) and what she did all day down at the race.  I thought to myself that now I was making her run 17 miles today.

From there we run all the way to the aid station before the "hill." I take in more chicken broth and Pepsi.  She starts forcing me to shake my arms and use the gravity of the downhill, and gives me instructions for how to walk through the next aid station to loosen up by legs.  

This entire run, I was doing math.  Math with my watch.  And math with the mile markers.  On the first lap, when I saw Mile 10, I would quickly convert (10-8.7 = 1.3).  I did this for every single mile marker.  Mile 4 on the 2nd loop (8.7+4 = 12.7).  As we headed downhill and got back to the water's edge, we ran passed Mile 14 marker and I yelled, "3.5 miles left" and Robin goes, "What are you? Some sort of mathematician?"  Yes, I guess so.  I was so completely tunnel visioned that last 90 minutes.  If only I could count cards and quickly as I was adding or subtracting 8.7 or 17.4 from 26.2 that night.  I'd be rich.

I kept asking myself why I couldn't go faster.  Did anything hurt?  Sure, but I wasn't in any kind of excruciating pain.  My heart rate was elevated, but I trained with a heart rate much much higher.  Why couldn't I go?  Then a woman, Sue, started to pass me.  She was 58.  I talked to her on the second loop.  She was hunched over and she had two people walking with her, pushing her to get to each light post.  And, then a girl named Tracy passed me, who was being encouraged by her husband.  I was in way better condition than these two were, but I couldn't move any faster (or so I thought).  I had brief thoughts about not caring if I finish after midnight.  I knew I would still go the 140.6.  But those were quickly squashed by drill sergeant Watson.  Eventually, we get back to the other side of the water and the volunteer says, "17 minutes for 1.3 miles."  I finally start to pick up my speed.  Robin runs ahead and yells, "Jessica, I want you to chick this girl!"  I had planned to run down the finish chute with an ASU flag that I had previously coordinated with Robin (which was in that cinch sack she had been running with the for past 6 miles).  I tell her I don't have time for the flag.  

I see a silhouette ahead that I know is Kristie.  And I also see Julie.  Now all three of them are running with me.  Somewhere we pass Sedonia and then my dad.  And when I get to the turn that takes me to the finish, there is my other dad, my mom, Natalie, and my brother, and probably others, but again, I don't remember.  I just remember yelling something about having to run through a parking lot.  The energy, the yelling, the crowd is absolutely insane.  We get to Ash Ave and the flag is magically in my hand.  I want to carry it above my head the entire chute, but when I try, I realize I can't keep my arms up.  I also know it's backwards, but I don't have time to switch it.  

  

I can't see anything.  The lights are so bright.  And, I can't hear a thing.  The crowd is unlike anything I have ever heard.  I never saw Linsey Corbin.  And, I never heard Mike Reilly tell me I was an Ironman.  I crossed that finish line at 16:59:05.  I wanted to enjoy that finish chute.  Instead it is all a blur.  However, the benefit of finishing in the last two minutes of an Ironman is that there are many videos out on YouTube capturing it all.  When I watch the video I see Linsey and I hear Mike Reilly telling me I'm an Ironman.  But, it doesn't look like me, even though I know it is.  It's a sloppy, messy, tired run.  And, an indication that somewhere maybe around mile 137, my mind took over my body.

Random YouTube video of the last two minutes of the finish line

I cross the line and I see why the finish line has volunteers called "catchers." Because that is what they do.  My catcher holds on to me for quite some time to make sure I don't need medical attention.  I'm wobbly and don't have my balance, but I'm ok.  I still can't believe what just happened.  As I predicted, I did not cry (I had already told Kristie that I assumed I would cry in the morning before the start, but not at the finish, which is exactly what happened).  News flash: I did hear a rumor that even Edward wiped his cheek some.  What does make me cry is watching the people behind me in the video.  I have no idea where they came from, except for that woman, Tracy, who is right behind me.  Sue never made it. :(  


Back at home, Jen captured the live video of all my teammates finishing, including Nate, the first to cross, who later proposed to Michelle after she crossed.  And, now it all makes sense why both Nate and Michelle's mom, Lorraine, made sure he could shower and change at my parent's place.  The best part is the commentary from Mike Reilly about all she really wants is a shower.  And, he made a joke to Nick when he finished.  

My amazing teammates!

 The best fans a girl could ask for....

I still haven't processed what happened.  It's been hard because I haven't been alone once since Sunday so haven't had much time to think about the magnitude of what I accomplished.  But I do know that I couldn't have crossed that line without Nick and Sedonia, who were my sherpas in their own unique ways for the past 12 months, and, of course, Robin, who pushed me to my limits in those last 6 miles.  


I was glad I bought the shirt that had my name on it and says, "Anything is possible."