Do you have those days when you wake up, so eager to conquer the world? Days where you're anxiously awaiting the moment when you can show yourself what you're all about? Have you ever had those days that put a smile on your face months and even years later?
I woke up this morning wishing for my day in Arizona all over again. The experience of a lifetime and a day that causes me to choke up even as I write about it. As I opened my eyes this morning I lay there, starring at my bike all squeaky clean mounted on my wall. What a beautiful and trusty Girlie I have. She knows me. She knows when I'm tired, when I'm frustrated and more importantly, she knows my desires and is willing to come along for the ride. I thought of two Sundays ago in amazement that its almost been two weeks. And yet the day is still with me. Branded on my hips with chaff scabs, seen on my toe with no nail and felt in my heart as it pounds with excitement and sheerlove. Sheer love. You may think I'm crazy, I often do. But there is something about going through hell to get to the other side that makes Ironman days the most amazing days of my life.
I arrived in Arizona alone. Alone and relaxed and ready to roll. You have to understand that this was my first big trip without someone beside me to hold my hand, pull the enormous but oh so amazing bike box (Kevtima you guys are GREAT!) behind me, flag down a taxi, and calm my nerves as I bumped into girls whom would I would be hunting down on Sunday. As I arrived at my hotel I open the door to find the most beautiful vase of flowers awaiting me. Hannah was with me:o) I unpacked, looking at all that I had brought and was proud. The hardest part was over and now it was time for some fun.
The few days leading up to the race I was as cool as a cucumber. I received my pretty silver wristband bought some swag and prided myself in how efficient I was at putting my bike together. If Handlebars Cycle Company wasn't so amazing to me, I would be my own mechanic:o)
I swam every morning in Tempe Town Lake with the thousands of other athletes and spectators and boy was it COLD! My legs went numb within the first minute of being in the water and I hoped that the race director's forecast for warmer temps on race morning held true. I met with Greg, a fellow athlete and new found friend from UB, a bit during our off time. This would be his first Ironman and I think I was more excited for his day of victory than I was about mine! :o) I spoke with Coach Mary several times before race day and I was at this point nervous that she was nervous that I wasn't nervous. And the truth was. I wasn't. Not one bit. I smiled as I talked with her and with family.
Mom and dad were hilarious. I would send pictures on my phone throughout the trip and mom would make sure that I wasn't talking to strangers and that I wasn't walking in places alone. Dad would send pictures of making beer in a friends basement, I would send pictures of measuring and preparing nutrition for race day:o) Ironman is family though, and here, you find love and guidance and 100% willingness to be your best friend, in everyone.
The day before race day I remember walking along the side of the lake thirsty for the water. I was ready to fly with the wind, be it at my back, my face or my side. I wanted to burn holes in my shoes and begin my brief parting with Ironman with a stamp that read, "You better watch out. I'll be back!" I was more ready than I knew.
The alarm clock rang at 4am race morning, and I will admit that I probably slept a total of 3 hours. I went about my routines, ate breakfast of 3 bottles of Boost, a cup of Kona Coffee, tried to eat toast with peanut butter (thankfully it didn't go to waste) and threw on my head phones and sat on the bathroom floor with the lights off for a few minutes. I knew I had a day ahead of me that would throw curve balls left and right and taking these moments the morning of race day allows me to gather myself before I plunge myself into pure pain for hours on end. I put on my new Handlebars jersey, tried to braid my hair as Hannah would and sent one last picture to my family and Adam letting them know that I loved them to cheer louder than ever and to wait for my call tonight.
Transition was insane, as always. This is the time when you come face to face with your competition. Literally. Girls were scampering all over the place putting nutrition on their bikes, trying to make small talk, sizing you up, trying to stay calm. It can get pretty overwhelming. I had bigger issues to worry about. My computer magnet was left on my training wheels at home so race morning, yes get ready for this, I was installing a computer onto my bike at 5:15am. At 5:45 it still wasn't picking up signal. I was chalking it up as, "oh well." At 6am I was given another computer, installed it by 6:20, caught a signal and racked the Girlie back up by 6:40 :o) Transition closed in ten minutes and I still needed to pump the tires, hit the bathroom, eat a banana and try to get in a few phone calls. Looking back I still have no idea how all of this happened :o)
I entered the water at 6:57 so excited! Ironman Arizona's swim course is one loop instead of two, and being that I have raced Ironman Lake Placid with two loops, I was a bit nervous about how long it would seem without the break up of loops in the middle. Bobbing in the water with 2200+ athletes knocks the worries out of you though, because you realize that you're all in this together. Mike Reilly shouted that everyone watching from above, on land and over the internet waves would be cheering with loads of love and to enjoy this day because it would be the boomed, I started my watch and with an enormous smile plunged my face into the water.
1:11 The swim went quick! Quick and rough. It was a fight fest out there with men and woman swimming over one another, tugging, pulling, fists and elbows knocking me in the head, gut, side. At one point I started to panic and had to recheck my mental voices. We're ok, just keeping swimming toward the sun. The turn around buoys were brutal to get around but as soon as I cleared them, it was smooth strokes and breathing that bought me home. Volunteers hoisted me out of the deep water, each grabbing one shoulder of my wetsuit. I have never been tossed around so much. One volunteer handed me off to another who threw me on the ground and three people whipped the westuit before I even knew what was happening. Dizzy and tying to get my bearings I sprinted to the transition tent, threw on my shoes, helmet, grabbed nutrition for the ride and was shouting enormous cries of thank you to every volunteer I passed :o) The goal was to be out of the water in 1:15. 1:11 put me ahead:o)
Starting the first loop of the three loop bike course was what I had expected. Windy, hot, windy and a test run to see what my legs wanted to produce that day. Within the first three minutes I noticed that my new bike computer was telling me I was going between 30-40 miles per hour. I had to laugh at this. After all of the trouble in transition this morning installing it, and in result, it wasn't calibrating properly. I began making goals based on time. Get to the turn around for the first loop by 1:15 and see where you go from there. There is always a Plan B in my head, and if that fails, you keep backing it up. The moment you let Ironman win, your day is done. Stay in control Sarah. The headwind on the way out to the turnaround was awful. And when I mean I awful, I mean I had to pray that I would at least make it through one loop of this course. I made it in 1:07 and was still ahead of schedule. Next goal was to make it back from my firstloop in under 2 hours. This would put me at a sub 6 hour ride. The beauty in all the efforts to get to the turnaround was that as soon as I make the turn, that wind pushed me and my Girlie home:o) And it did just that. I started the second loop at 1:55 with the biggest smile on my face. Things were working, when most people would think that everything was falling apart.
The second loop shifted the wind to my side. An awful bike crash on the Beeline Highway three mile climb brought many of us to a halt as we had to maneuver our way through the parts and people in the road. Kinda scary when you see bloody wounds laying on the side of the road. But no one said that this sport was easy. There were a few times I was sure that my Girlie and I were going to blow away in the wind. Try doing crunches with your inner thighs for four hours to stabilize yourself from falling over. As the afternoon went on I had to pull myself out of a few Ironman lows. I couldn't stay hydrated, I was literally going to the bathroom every five minutes, and for six hours, thats a lot of releiving:o) I was grabbing bananas at every aid station devouring them like brownies. And I HATE bananas. I was trying to keep my self steady and focused, and if they were doing the trick, you better believe I'm gonna take em. I started to get uncomfortablein the saddle around the start of the third loop and I it seemed that the moment I snatched water from a volunteer at the aid stations and dumped it over myself, I was dry a minute later. The sun was a scorcher and with the Arizona dirt surrounding me, there was not one moment of reprieve.
On the final turnaround of the bike course I was getting a bit nervous about this marathon. My IT Band was starting to flare up and causing me a lot of pain. Again, the Ironman low hit and it was a rough one to pull myself out of. I still had a marathon? Can I run a marathon? If I can't run, can I walk a marathon before midnight? You literally question every voice thats taunting you in your head. As I rolled back into town, I looked at my watch and saw a beautiful time of 5:58 on the watch:o) At that point, the low was no longer an option. I had just biked my fastest split EVER! I came here for a reason, and I wasn't about to let that reason slip away. Its the choices we make, and I made mine before I even arrived in Arizona. I raced off my bike, handed it off to a volunteer, flew into transition, slipped on my kicks, grabbed what I needed and started my hunt:o)
The first three miles of the run hurt...BAD. I was uncomfortable and tying to get into a groove. I had my Garmin on and made a choice as I started my run. I had just biked 112 miles with no idea of how fast I was going. I was going to run this run, and I was going to run it for me. And that meant not looking at the watch. You see, when you train every day, the way that you train for Ironman, you become your body's best friend. I know what different pains mean, what they will present in the upcoming miles, and more importantly, what I need to do to push through them. So e pace o no e pace, I made the decision to race this marathon with no regrets. And that meant allowing my heart to guide me. She'll tell me how I feel better than any watch can, and if this was going to be the last Ironman for a while, you better believe I wanted to tear it up.
The first thirteen miles I felt smooth and steady. I was eating and drinking water, gatorade, bananas and sucking on pretzels at every aid station. I chatted with a few people along the way, trying to keep other people's spirits up while keeping my mind off of what it was that I was doing. The sun was hot and there were a lot of people walking the first few miles. Similar to the bike course, the run was three loops and you better believe that I was scouting out every woman's calf as I ran by.
Mile sixteen I saw it. That wall you hear about during marathons when you start to slip, loose yourself, drift away into a fog and allow the trials and tribulations of the day take over. And this was not where I was expecting to hit it. I started to feel sleepy and you have no idea how badly I wanted to walk. And this is when I started to dig into my mental Ironman bank, that special place I store my "pick me ups" for this exact moment. I started thinking about all of you. Family, friends, strangers, who were anxiously watching my every step online. Every time I ran over a timing mat, I thought of the smiles and the excitement that it would bring my family. I could hear my mom screaming and see all of my grad friends confused as to what these stupid times meant:o) I started singing to myself, talking to myself, screaming at myself at points and it was around mile 20 when I started wheeling and dealing with the exhausted Sarah who just wanted togive up.
6 miles remained. I had no idea what my time was, what my pace was, where I ranked in my age group. I knew nothing but pain. I opted to chunk the miles up into smaller bits, eating piece by piece. "Two 5k's Sar! You can do this!" It's crazy writing this, because I know that I can't possibly convey how badly was I was falling apart.
My stomach was cramping, I started feeling nauseous, I was dizzy, my muscles were weakening and the pain was worse than I think I ever felt. Its almost like having the flu, with no energy and having to race 140.6 miles as fast and as hard as you can. Before I knew it, I was at mile 23, with 3.2 miles to go. And then 2.2 miles, and then 1.2 miles. I was ready to die. At this point I was eating whatever I could get my hands on, dousing myself with water at every moment I could, ice shoved down every open area of my tri top. The good news was that I knew I still running steady, and that whatever was happening in mybody was neutralized with what was happening in my heart and in my head.
Rounding the bend that led to the finish line of Ironman Arizona brought new meaning to my Ironman experience. As I crossed the finish line I began to well up with tears. Huge, enormous, gigantic tears. I had finished my third Ironman in 11:12:36!!! I was in pure amazement that I not only finished, but that I shaved off another 40 minutes. 40!!! Within a year I've taken over 2 hours off of my time by dedicating, believing and racing my heart out for my dreams, and they were coming true. With the jam packed swim, the windiest bike ride I've ever had, the hills and the dirt and gravel and ugliness that I was going through the last 10 miles, I was still able to it. My hopes of running a sub 4 hour marathon were smashed with a 3:54 and a well deserved third place age group finish.
As I stood at the finish, I became more emotional that I ever thought. I cried for my day, for my months of training while trying to get through my first semester of graduate school and an 18 credit work load. I cried for those not there with me with one that was there with me. I cried for my sacrifice and the joy that its benefits have brought me to. And I cried for me. How proud I was. How I never faltered when the computer broke, how I kept myself in check every moment of the day. How I trusted my heart and knew what I was there to do. I believed in myself, and thats all that mattered. I know, and only I know, what I have done to cross that line; racing on the brink of falling over the edge for 11:12:36. I cried because I know that this year will bring races that won't include Ironman. And that's not the easiest decision to make. This sport gives me something that I can't explain. It's not always about the beautiful scenery and feelinggood after workouts. Its about learning who I am. What I want in life. Who I want to be and how I can become that person. And doing things that are said to be impossible drive me to allow others to see and then believe that IT IS possible.
So as I left Arizona, I left with larger than life intentions. I don't know where this sport will bring me, but I do know that the waters and roads better watch out when I come back. Me and my Girlie are on a mission, and we've got some serious "secrets" that we've been keeping. For now, she is racked on the wall of my bedroom, resting up for a year of fun times! And as for me? I've got another plane to catch. A well deserved vacation to visit friends, family, gain some holiday face stuffing weight and enjoy every minute of down time, sleep and glasses of beer as I'd like:o)
Thank you to everyone for the emails, calls, support and love along the way. Nothing ever goes unnoticed:o) Until next time!
Loads and loads of love and kisses and hugs! SARAH!
Catch up Relays!
