Livin' on a Prayer

This time last week, I was getting ready for bed. I had a pain in my body that was nice. It was a sign that I worked hard that day. My knees ached. My upper back was sore. I moved up the stairs in my house a little slower. And it was awesome.

Earlier that day; I ran/biked/ran a total of 72.2 miles in 6 hours, 16 minutes, 53 seconds. I burned approximately 5500 calories. And it was awesome.

It was my first attempt at the “1/2 Iron” distance triathlon. Unfortunate events in weather the day before meant it was not the true ½ Iron, but a 72.2 mile duathlon consisting of a 3.1 mile run, a 56 mile bike and a 13.1 mile run. The true ½ Iron distance tri is a 70.3 mile race: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run. I had trained for that race for the last 18 weeks or so. My parents came to visit to see me attempt the great race and see what this thing was that was taking up so much of my time and energy. I had sponsors, friends, family, coworkers, random strangers I would talk to supporting me. And it was awesome.

My training plan was interesting. I’m not a swimmer. I bike to work on a $60 Target bike. I wouldn’t consider myself a cyclist by any means. I’ve been running the past couple of years, but only because I know I have to if I want to be an Ironman. I do not consider myself a runner. Seriously, look at my body. I am not built for any of these sports. I am built to be a train. Some sort of contact sport where people would run up against me and fall over. When I do run, I prefer to run in the mornings. This whole multisport thing makes me (Ok, I prefer to order it this way) swim in the mornings, run in the afternoons and bike on the other days. My body does not like to run in the afternoon. I’m tired after a day’s work. I want to sit on the couch and watch TV for hours. So I change clothes and I run after work. And it sucks and it’s hard.

Swimming is worse. During the 18 week training period, I swam 3 times per week. 54 times I hopped in that pool for a swim workout. I can count on one hand the number of times I did not feel like I was going to drown in the pool. Not the best confidence building activity for me. Yes, I am glad I have put in some hours on the bike and the run, as I will clearly drown in the first activity and not ever have a chance to get to the bike & run. And it sucks and it’s hard.

I ride a $60 bike to work everyday. I bought some $5 cycling shoes off of EBay and go to spin class 2 times per week. I’m clearly ready to ride a road bike for 56 miles. Shit. And it sucks, and it’s hard.

Besides my anxiety around the physical ability to complete 70.3 miles in an 8 hour time period, I do not have the appropriate equipment. I thought I’d get a tax return that would support my goals, but no. I am a very fortunate and lucky girl. I have awesome friends who loan me swim tools and bikes that will travel hundreds of miles and ‘sponsor’ me so I can enter races. And they are awesome.

Race day was perfect. A crisp 45 degrees in the morning before the first run. I was happy I was not going to hop in the water in that temperature. After setting up my transition area, I headed to the start line. After months of worry about the swim, I casually walked to the start line. No swim today. I run 3.1 miles in my sleep. No worries with this. As all of us wait for the start to kick off, the power goes out. The inflatable start line balloon thingy deflates. We all shake our heads in disbelief that something else is going array. The power comes back ten or so minutes later. The announcer tells us about the delay in the race start now because of a car accident on the road we would venture to with our bikes. Four lanes of traffic=closed. We’re delayed to make sure the debris is cleared in time. Finally we start. I am in corral 5. The folks who are in front of me include the professional triathletes, all of the men and the relays. The only group behind me is the women age 45 & up. I can see which ones will pass me within the first mile. Finally we start. The ladies around me were chatting about how if all things went as planned, we would be peeing in our wetsuits right now. I was happy to be wearing my pants and long sleeved shirt and not peeing in anything. After the first mile, the really hard core women in the last corral flew past me and the three others I was trying to keep up with. I passed a few people as well. And it was awesome.

During the transition to the bike, I stopped to pee. My sunglasses became foggy and I removed them to put on my bike helmet. Before I knew it, I was jogging my bike out of transition. (Sans sunglasses, which I realized shortly after finally getting on my bike.) I decided not to turn around with the advice of the race person at the corner. It turned out ok, as there were no bugs on the course and my helmet has a visor attachment that I have attached to it. Phew. My shoe on the other hand was a different story. I had a hard time clipping in to my pedals. I haven’t practiced a whole lot but I thought I’d be better than this. It wasn’t until I finally clipped my right shoe in that I realized what had happened. The day before, after checking my bike in to the transition area, I decided to tinker with my cleats. The right one had a weird clicking noise. I found out the issue, fixed it and screwed the cleat back on. For some stupid reason, I decided to be proactive and do the same thing to the other cleat. I did not get the cleat back in the right spot (and frankly, I didn’t even think about it throwing things off THAT much). Once I finally clipped in, my shoe hit the pedal holder (I’m quite sure that’s the technical term) on each rotation. My toe hit, my heel hit. And it sucked, and it was hard.

I thought about stopping at the first Landis Cyclery aid station dealy, but after 14 or so miles, I couldn’t feel my foot and riding with my right foot turned out was not as bad as it was the first 4 miles. I sucked it up. It wasn’t that bad in the whole scheme of things. I pushed through, eating my GU gels, drinking water and Gatorade. I spent a good portion of my time on the bike singing White Christmas songs. I spent a lot of time thinking about how my Mom, sister and I would sing those songs during the Christmas season while watching the film. Then I would think about that Christmas when my sister wasn’t home for some reason and my Dad had to work. It was just my Mom, my Uncle Don and me. We watched ASU play in the Honolulu Bowl and laughed for hours about how ‘my dogs were barking.’ (It was funny at the time.) Man were my dogs barking at that time, well, my right dog anyway from turning it out during the ride. I thought about my Uncle and hoped that my participation in these races was something that made him proud. And I was sad and I was hopeful.

I finally came in the home stretch of the bike. I saw my parents at the corner of Rio Salado and Ash. I waved as my Dad took a picture. I was a smidge worried about those first steps off the bike. Could I even unclip? I did dismount ok. I had an issue getting my leg over the bike, but I made it. The Gloria family greeted me. Jen was there with Grayson and Garrett. Garrett held up a sign he made. I almost cried. He is so cute. I wish I had a moment to give him a big sweaty, I’ve been riding my bike for 3. 5 hours hug. But I went along to the transition, pulled off my cycling shoes, ate three bites of a peanut butter sandwich, stuffed another GU in my pocket, spotted my sunglasses and laughed. I thought about stopping at the portapotty again, but didn’t. They were going to be on the course every mile or two, I’d be ok. There is something about those first few steps after riding a bike 56 miles. It feels weird. It feels like you are trying to learn how to walk while your family and friends look on. And not in that cute, “ahh look, her first steps” kind of way. No, it’s more like a. . . “I’m quite sure she’s drunk and going to fall over at any moment” kind of way. And it was awesome.

It took me about a mile and a half to get my legs going normally. I settled into a good rhythm and felt unexpectedly awesome during the run. I thought it would take me at least 3 hours to finish the 13.1 run. 2:17 later I was finished: my second fastest half marathon time. I couldn’t believe it. The run felt amazing: a little slow at some points, but not far off my 10 minute mile pace that I normally run. It was hot and sunny. And I was sad I forgot to spray that suntan lotion I spent $7 on in the part in my hair. I was not passed by many people yet I passed quite a few. These were not the old men who were walking that I passed during the first run (afterall, how good could I feel about passing the 70 year old man?). These seemed to be the regular folks I was passing. It was hot. I was used to it-- running around that lake in the record-breaking heat the weeks before prepared me for this moment. And it was awesome.

I tried to make conversation with one guy I passed (the Ragnar dipshit of ot-10 taught me a good lesson) asking ‘where’s the beer?’ He mentioned they had some PBR at the last aid station. He reminded me of it as we crossed paths one last time a mile or so from the station with the beer. I decided at the aid station before I could make it through until the end without stopping at the station (previously, I had grabbed water/Gatorade/Pepsi at the stations). The little kid passing beverages out at that station thought otherwise: he literally stood in the middle of the path pointing me to the beer. Seriously?! It is hot and you are 0.5 miles from the fucking finish line, get the fuck out of my way. His Mom even said, “You should get out of the way” as I dodged him. Yeah, kid didn’t move. I should have pushed his ass into the E. coli infested lake. Jerk. I have been moving for over 71 miles (and about 6 hours and 10 minutes). Please do not stand between me and the finish line. My agility ability is not so quick at this point in the race. This kid was as bad as the jerks who decide they need to fish across the sidewalk into the lake so the runners (Meaning me. I will call myself a runner for this illustration) get tangled up in their fishing line. And that kid sucks and he’s and asshole. And so are his parents for not getting him the fuck out of the way of the racers who paid $210 to run along that path.

As I approached the finish line and passed two other runners (so what if one was hobbling to the finish line), I filed the stupid kid memory to the back and tried to keep my footing in the deep gravel obstacle course to the finish. I was happy to see Charles as I approached. I was so worried the Wong family (my sponsor) was not going to make it in time. My watch read 6:16 and I originally expected to finish in 7 hours at the earliest. I kicked it in high gear as I passed the grandstands full of 5-6 people and approached the finish line. And it was awesome.

And as I crossed the finish line, the song in my head was no longer a White Christmas song. Instead, I couldn’t help but sing.. . . ahhhhhh we’re half way theeeerrree. Ahhhhhhh! Livin on a prayer. And it was awesome.