ARRIVAL
I was not prepared for the mental stress that comes in the taper weeks. Those are the two weeks before the race where you've backed WAY OFF from working out to let your body recover and get ready to give the best effort you can on race day. Thankfully the nightmares went away, but my mind was constantly on overdrive. I made list after list after list, including a list of all the lists I needed to make! This did help... somewhat. I'm not sure if the decision to travel to your first half IM is a good one but honestly, I know I'd have been stressed about completing my first half IronMan distance whether or not I traveled to do it. Once we were safely in Salem (we drove, from Denver) and were physically inside the IronMan Village, I definitely felt we'd cleared a major milestone. Onward!
We arrived Friday afternoon, along with 2,326 of the 2,500 athletes. Mr. Scandinavian mullet assumed his alter-ego of St. Patrick and stood in the check-in line for me, while I shopped for my IM-branded swag. Of course I had to do that FIRST because I'd heard after the first day, there's nothing left. True statement, as I snagged the last of the IM logo shirts with the names printed on them in my size. (BONUS! My name is in the head/dot of the IM logo!!) I also grabbed two event visors, because this journey is as much Mr. Scandinavian Mullet's to claim as it is my own, and because Happy Couples Match, dang it. [He LOVED the visor and now wears it all the time, wife WIN!!]
Athlete check-in, once in, was kind of a mess but fine. Actually, I was surprised that IronMan wasn't a little more organized. I mean, everyone had to stand in this huge line snaking through the unshaded center of the village. There was no separation for people who had already signed the forms online ahead of time. Of course I had pre-signed, but there was no benefit to me doing that, other than generally making the big line go faster. Once I got to the front of the line, the guy who checked me in as Athlete #1149 and put the red band on my wrist was also nice enough to trim the corners so I wouldn't scratch myself or my wetsuit - very nice touch, Mr. Seasoned IM Volunteer, definitely not his first rodeo! So now I was all numbered up, I had my packet, I picked up my free race t-shirt (too big, to be exchanged out Saturday after 3PM) so this was happening!
I couldn't decide whether to stick around for the athlete briefing at 6, or to just catch it Saturday - it wasn't for over an hour. I saw the woman who won the age group at the Colorado Tri (the Olympic I'd done in June) walking around. I told Patrick "Oh my gosh, that's Betsy Mercer! She's the woman who won my age group at the Olympic in Boulder!" He said I should go talk to her. "Um, no, that would be weird." But I was happy she was there. I felt like it was good luck that I saw her, a sort of sign I was going to have a great race, as I did when we raced together in Colorado. We decided to catch one of the athlete briefings the next day.
The carb loading was extremely fun. I basically started at dinner on Thursday and went on through breakfast on Saturday. I ate an entire bag of pretzels over the course of Friday and Saturday. I had also been topping off my electrolytes all week. It helps to have friends who have done this before, they give you some good tips! I generally made sure to consume mostly very nutrient-dense food the two weeks before the race - I eat fairly healthy anyhow but was especially dialed in to optimize nutrition after the 4th of July. For the carb loading days, I added in pasta, a Belgian waffle with fruit, bagels... nothing crazy, but things I really don't usually have. Next time I'll do like our age-group winner did, and have a fancy cupcake or something *really* fun in there!
We stayed at a hotel in Albany, OR, a half hour south of the village. By choice, I wanted to be away from the action. I am easily distracted, I'd want to walk around, do all the things... when I know I needed to be off my feet and relaxing. We booked a hotel, because while an AirBnB or VRBO sounds fun, I also didn't want to deal with any potential issues like getting locked out, toilet breaking, chirping fire alarms, etc. [Incidentally the IM host hotel had the fire alarm go off the night before the race - yipes!] It was no big deal for us to drive back up to Salem on Saturday for me to ride the run course and then check in my bike. Luckily the one thing I forgot to pack, bike lube, was plentiful, but of course I couldn't find anyone with it, nor a mechanic who had it on hand, Saturday morning. My friend and training buddy, Kelly, to the rescue - she had some and met me with it! YIPPEE! We got to catch up for a bit and I met Aaron, whom Kirsten had also convinced to do this race. And then it was bike check-in time for me!
Racking your bike the day before the race is spectacular, and having assigned bike spaces is the stuff triathlon dreams are made of. My race # was the lucky winner of an end-of-the-rack slot, so I had a few extra inches of room, hooray! We decided to go to the hotel and shower up, then come back for the last athlete briefing and do my t-shirt exchange.
Back at the village that afternoon, I swapped out my too-big shirt with no problem, then had about a half hour before the briefing started. I wanted to rest my legs by sitting down in the grass and as I was looking for a spot, I saw her again! OK, Universe, I hear you saying "Go talk to her." I walked over and said "Hello, are you Betsy Mercer?" Yes. I told her we'd shared the podium at the Olympic in June, I had come in second to her, and I had no idea then that she was a famous amazing athlete, but now that I know, I wanted to say 'hi' and 'Awesome job.'" She busted out laughing and seemed genuinely surprised and amused. Her friend Michael lamented that everyone knew Betsy, but no one knew who he was! Well, I made Michael my new friend, too, which meant that now I knew who he was. And he was doing the race with his best friend from kindergarten, Dave. Fifty years later they're still friends, doing triathlons together... except this was Dave's first ever triathlon! AMAZING that someone would choose a 70.3 to be their first! So we all had a fun chat, including Patrick and Dave's wife, and we were all still talking as the athlete briefing went on. I missed most of it, but Kelly and Aaron had already filled me in, and my coach had given me lots of tips since she did it last year. So while I never got the official briefing, the Universe definitely wanted me to be back at the course to meet Betsy, Michael and Dave.
On our way back to the hotel, we drove the bike course, which was an out-and-back [we only drove the "out"]. I'm glad we did this, because while IronMan marked the course "Flat", the elevation profile indicated otherwise, and the hills in my head were a lot worse than what we found while driving. The hills are really only as you are leaving town, and they were not nothing! I knew they'd be rough, and especially as you ride back to town being tired, but they weren't too bad, and the rest of the course actually was very flat, totally manageable. Same with the railroad tracks, everyone commented to be ready for bottles flying out of their cages, there. But in reality, it didn't seem bad, just normal tracks and I've ridden over plenty of those! The course was BEAUTIFUL. Once you come out of town you take this 90-degree bend to the right and head straight into The Pretty - flower fields, vineyards, mountain backdrop, OH MY! And we got to see the turn-around point, so I'd know what to expect there (you're doing a 180 on an uphill, but it was fine.) We did the drive during the golden hour of sunset, and it really got me excited for the next day.
And then we had dinner, I got myself ready for the race - nerves and stuff did come, but I voiced it to Patrick and saying it aloud and letting it go probably went a long way toward me actually being OK with it. I went to bed and slept well. WIN.
RACE MORNING
Sunday morning, we left our southern location at 4:15AM and got up to Salem with plenty of time to walk into transition for the 5AM opening. Because we were so early, there was zero line for the Port-a-Potty, so in I went and everything that needed to come out, did! Clearing that milestone had me starting the day feeling like I'd already won.
I came back to my bike to put on my wetsuit, and I look up and lo and behold, directly across the rack was DAVE. He and I were ONE NUMBER off, what a nice surprise! And lucky him, he also had an end-spot on the bike rack - very awesome luck for us first-timers! Betsy and Michael stopped by to help him get set up, and we all got to bestow good race vibes on each other before we joined the swim queue. Third win of the day, and I'm not even out of transition... YES.
Athletes have to line up for the swim start based on their expected swim time for 1900 meters, without factoring in the advantage of the river current. I'd done the Olympic 1500 meters in 34 minutes, so my coach figured I should line up somewhere around 42 or 44 minutes. I'm an OK open water swimmer, and I was surprised that being in the 42-44 minute group meant that at least 75% of the field was in front of me. Alrighty, then, in line I go! Morning chit chat with strangers in proximity was generally nice. Once the athlete mob started walking, you lose people, you find them again. The walk up to the start really is not bad, and even with the intermittent chatting, there is a lot of silence and - certainly in my case - prayer going on. We were all laughing about this. I had a water bottle and a banana, to be consumed closer to the actual start, and another bottle to prime my wetsuit (basically to dump down my wetsuit to get it wet and warmed before I jumped in the river). The river water temp had come up to where the pros were not allowed to wear a wetsuit, but all of us mere mortals were in them.
The only hiccups for the race were immediately prior to the start. There were bins near the swim start where you could drop your morning clothes bag, a plastic bag with your athlete number on it, into which you can put your shoes and any clothes like a jacket or something that you wore to walk up to the swim start. You drop the bags into the bins before you get into the river, and then pick them up later in the transition area after the race. The placement of the bins into big grids was absolute chaos with hundreds of athletes trying to wade through them at once, and they were set on top of very prickly cut hay with straw-like needles poking into your bare feet. Again, for an IronMan, I was surprised there wasn't better organization or at least some mats here, but at least I got my bag into the right bin, my feet didn't get stabbed and I wasn't bleeding. One hurdle cleared.
Then just beyond the bin and stabby-feet madness, you're almost at the start, but you still can't see it. There is this little makeshift wooden plank staircase down the riverbank that ends at a small floating dock (about a 5' x 8' dock) from which you'll jump into the river. The wood "stairs" were wet and SLICK - there was no railing, just a flimsy rope through some posts. This was easily the most terrifying part of my day. I had visions of my feet going out from under me, me taking out several other athletes and abruptly ending our race before it even began. EVERYONE was going very slowly down these stairs; some grip tape or a better surface really would have helped. I was so worried about slipping that I barely heard the volunteers tell us "Swim left until you get around the sandbar then swim right." But I am glad I heard that, because it was important.
And then I stepped gingerly from the last slick plank down onto the dock, which already had a few racers on it and the volunteers are telling us "Get into the water", so all of a sudden, I just jumped in with the others and TOOK OFF!
THE SWIM
Once you jump into the water (your goggles will stay on!) you can see the big sandbar ahead on the right, about 100 yards out. The current is gently pulling you to your right, so you DO need to actively swim left to get around the sandbar... If you start floating downstream with the sandbar to your left, an official on a jet ski will come rescue you, but you really don't want to be That Guy. [We had watched a swimmer get jet-ski rescued from the top of the banks, before we got to the Scary Staircase.] For me, it didn't take long to clear the sandbar, maybe a minute? Which was actually sort of crazy, because that meant I was swimming one-minute 100s, but whatever. As soon as I cleared it, I turned right immediately to point myself downstream, which was also STRAIGHT INTO the rising sun.
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| Swim entry at center of shot - note swimmers curving around big sandbar, into the rising sun. |
Because of the sun, I could really only see the buoys once I was about two feet from them, or even past them. I wish I had known how many there were, so I could count and know where I was on the course. I truly couldn't see downstream - I got kicked by a swimmer as I swam over him, he was very apologetic about the kick but I'm the one who swam over him, because I couldn't see he was right there! The kick really wasn't a big deal, and both of us were laughing over how blind we all were with the sun. A volunteer called to us on the right that we needed to keep the buoys to our right (they were along the right bank of the river). Aha... I can use the kayakers and paddleboarders, too. So, I called out, "Where are you? We can't see!" "We're on your right, keep us on your right." Whenever I completely lost sight of the buoy line or the next volunteer, I'd call to the volunteers to "Please call out, we can't see!" and they answered! GOD BLESS the woman on the paddleboard before the third-to-last buoy, she yelled out "Three more buoys then a right turn into the finish." I was surprised we were already that close. I looked over toward the left bank again to watch the trees racing by. GLEE.
Those last three buoys went by in a flash. I wanted time to slow down, because this flume ride down the river was the best start to a day I've had in nearly 45 years. But all good things come to an end, I knew I had a pretty bike ride ahead, and this was a race after all! I took one last look at the trees speeding by the left bank and thanked God for the great start to the day as I made the right turn into the cove.
T1 (Transition 1)
Like a good little triathlete, I had peed in the water before getting out of the river, so no need for any bathroom break. I got my wetsuit fully off pretty quickly and grabbed a few pretzels to chew while I was putting on my helmet, gloves, socks and shoes. And then I pulled my bike off the rack and started running with it toward the exit to Bike Out. It's a long run through transition, but it's all grass, so it's easy on the bike cleats. You have to cross a road and railroad tracks before you can mount your bike. Sounds worse than it is, the volunteers and police were spectacular.
And then all of a sudden, I'm on my bike heading out of town toward the vineyards!
THE BIKE
There were a lot of us leaving at the same time, but it didn't feel super crowded. I was worried about a curbed roundabout in that first half-mile, it was pretty narrow and a great way to get inexperienced riders to crash if they were grouped together, but we were spaced out plenty. The ride out is overall uphill, and the ride back is overall downhill, but you have ups and downs going both ways. They did a pretty good job marking road hazards with bright orange paint on the way out of town.
Riders bunched up at the big hill - many people didn't shift into the right gear, or were just not prepared for the climb. As I navigated my route through the bike swarm, I narrated exactly what was going on because, well, many triathletes don't do group rides, so they don't know to give each other road and proximity cues. And some slower riders didn't know to move far right, and some were swerving terribly trying to stay upright on the climb. So I would say, "I'm coming up on your right, there is someone coming on your left, just stay straight." etc. There was a big glob of about 30 riders that I had to weave through, and I was very deliberate and vocal about every move. Because I live in Colorado and I ride things like Kathy Reynolds' Buns of Steel Hill Climb, this uphill was not difficult for me, other than riding a solid path through the many people who were expecting the course to be completely flat. Those riders became our land mines, but luckily the mine field lasted only a few minutes and I made it through unscathed.
WHAT A GIFT. What a beautiful morning beneath blue skies and sunshine, between fields of flowers and rows of wine grapes and fruit trees. Lots of riders ahead and behind, but plenty of space. Similar to the swim, I was passing a lot of riders, but few were passing me. I probably had started too far back on the swim, but whatever, I was having a great time. I like saying "On your left" and ringing my bike bell. DING DING. Yes, I have a bike bell, yes, I use it in races, and YES, it's awesome.
I was doing a pretty good job drinking and eating. I eat homemade beer bread (cut into small pieces) on the first half of the ride, before I switch over to gels. I had to laugh that beer bread, for a race in Oregon, was a great choice. But it's what I had trained with, it works super well for me, and I love it. I just have a bite every 15 minutes or so. At Mile 21, there was A LOT of "bottle carnage" strewn all over the road, bike water bottles everywhere! The road there was straight, there were no tracks, no nearby aid stations, so no explanation for why we had to dodge all these orphaned bottles. But me and all the riders near me made it through this minefield just fine. This was about the time I started feeling BAD. Like, Lady Business Bull$hit bad - I'd gotten my period the night before, and maybe that's TMI but it is what it is, that's what I was dealing with on race day, and this the point it became a problem. My legs and lungs felt fine, but I was cramping and I was having a hard time pulling myself up out of my aero bars. Ugggghhhhh I knew this would show up. A couple miles before the turn-around point, there was an aid station on the left, and I thought 'maybe I should stop now.' But then I figured there might be one at turn-around, so I'll ride there, and if no aid station is there, this one is close enough, I'll make it back.
No aid station at the turn-around, and things were definitely NOT getting better. I was hoping the u-turn would mentally help me pick up my pace, but physically I was fading. I knew I had to get off the bike and stretch things out to try and make this better, as quickly as possible. As soon as I got to the aid station, I figured I might as well take advantage of the Port-a-Potty - no peeing on the bike for me! So, I racked my bike and ducked in. Came out and went to fill my water bottles (my fluids were right on track!) and, well, IronMan really does have stellar volunteers, this wonderful man refilled my bottles and put them on my bike while I did some quick stretching. Cadillac service, indeed! Thank you, thank you, to him and all the volunteers for being SO GREAT! My stop took less than five minutes, which was still lost racing time, but since I felt twenty thousand times better after stopping, it was worth it. And then it was time to get back on the bike and GO TO TOWN - literally!
With my stop, the bike field felt like was getting a little lonely, but there were still plenty of riders heading in, and plenty of opportunities for me to ring that bell! Because the crowd had spread out over the last 45 miles, the hills on the way back into town weren't nearly as treacherously crowded, and they were more down than up. The roads were also not as well marked for hazards; my tire slipped into a crack, but it also slipped right out without incident. I am very happy to say I successfully grabbed a gel from the last aid station while riding - I was worried about being able to do this but it was no problem! Within a few miles of transition, they coned off a lane of traffic for us, which made for a stress-free spin toward the transition area. Patrick had staked himself out at a great spot and I gave him a wave as I went by. I really had a great ride, except for that stupid period cramping incident, which had actually happened at the best time and was no longer an issue, so... time to get ready to enjoy a good run!
T2
Plenty of racers just pee on the go during a race. Other than while in the water, I am not one of them. Since my bike rack in transition was right next to a bank of Port-a-Potties, I popped in and out for my final bathroom stop during the race. Then I racked the bike and put on my shoes, race belt and visor. I dumped a salt packet into my water bottle [I run with my water bottle] and grabbed a few more pretzels with my other hand before shuffling out of transition.
And then all of a sudden Patrick and the crowd are cheering me on as I'm heading to cross that big white bridge out toward the shaded run loops!
THE RUN
The sun was shining and there was not a cloud in sight. I knew the run out to where it's shaded was a little over a half-mile. The first mile off the bike is always full of doubt, but not this time. I felt good and I was gunning to GET TO THE SHADE. Once I was on that island, I'd be running through the enchanted forest for two loops before heading back through this patch of sun, and back over the bridge to the finish. A lot of racers were walking on the way out. I was glad I had trained to run right away, I really wanted to minimize my sun exposure! A nice little bonus was that there was a gravel shoulder next to the concrete running path. I could hear my coach saying, "If you can preserve your joints, DO." There wasn't always a gravel/dirt shoulder throughout the whole course, but where there was, I took advantage. I had to be careful to be on the path to cross the timing wires - luckily, they were always attached to a big yellow box on the side of the trail, so I hit them all.
I didn't want to fixate on my watch too much, but I did look during mile two and I saw my pace was 9:20... WHOA, NELLY. I've never held THAT during a long run, so I figured I'd better back it down because I wanted to finish STRONG. The first loop was fun. It really was like running in an enchanted forest, though there were a few quarter-mile stretches in the sun and it was already getting pretty warm. I ran with my water bottle, which, if you can carry your water, I highly recommend it. (I trained this way, carrying a water bottle in my hand - you can use a belt or a pack, I saw lots of variations of others carrying their own water.) The nice thing about having the bottle with me is I can take a sip whenever I want, and get the bottle topped off at aid stations if needed. I also carry electrolyte drops, and putting that single-serving of those salt packs you get at restaurants into my bottle before I started was really saving me, because now it was HOT. But that first loop had a LOT of people on it. It's a 2-loop course, so many racers were on their second loop as I was on my first. I settled in around a 10:15 pace. I didn't really look at my watch much afer that, other than to check/confirm distance.
Interesting about the run at this race, there are no spectators out on the island, just racers, volunteers and the trees. Lots of volunteers, but until you go back over that bridge, only you, the volunteers and your fellow athletes can cheer you on. I tried to cheer on as many people as possible. And there was one set of kids (I assume they were children of volunteers) with water guns - OF COURSE YOU CAN SPRAY ME, FRONT AND BACK! I had them hit me on both loops. It was super refreshing. I was also dumping ice down my kit to stay cool - again with the awesome volunteers, they did this for me!
As we came up on the split where finishers go straight and 2nd-loopers go left, there was a mile marker sign before it for "Mile 12" which was obviously for racers on their second loop. As we passed the sign, a guy yelled out "YES! We've only got ONE MORE MILE, everyone, let's GO!" And I laughed and said, "Unless you're on your first loop, then you've got seven more, but lucky you, go get that last mile!" And I really meant it, but he felt SO BADLY! I told him "No way, go crush that last mile, and in an hour, I'll do the same!" I really meant THAT, too. I wished him well again as we split.
I still felt good as I started the second loop. People were really starting to fall apart at this point. For a brief moment on Mile 8, I almost became one of them, I took in too much of a gel and immediately felt it in my gut. I slowed down and slogged a bunch of water, then grabbed some pretzels at the next aid station, and it passed. Hooray, ME for remembering the points in that Triathlon Magazine article about interpreting signals from your body. About a mile after that, my left hamstring was getting tight, so, more water, more electrolytes, keep going, keep picking people off! I'm three miles out and I am NOT STOPPING NOW. But. I did want to finish strong. And it felt quite warm, even in the shade and even though I'd been putting ice down my kit the whole run. So, I decided to take a two-minute walk break (while in the shade, I was NOT walking under any sunshine whatsoever!) to be sure I'd be able to run it in. I am very glad I mentally trained to run again after a short walk break. I used to just... keep walking, once I started, and then if I did start running, I'd walk again. But not anymore. A walk break is a quick, planned break and then it's back to business. Run it in.
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| This smile is courtesy of J'ne Day-Lucore's stellar run coaching! |
The "Mile 12" sign came up and this time, it applied to me. At the trail split, I peeled off toward the finish and I really couldn't believe athletes were walking the last mile. I mean, this is a RACE and we're heading for the finish, suck it up and pick up the pace, people! Even if you jog, this will all be over in fifteen minutes or less!
OH MY GOD. THIS WAS ALL GOING TO BE OVER IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR LESS.
I took a sharp breath. I nearly stopped moving. I wanted to push it, but I didn't want it to end. Oh. My. GOD.
And then all of a sudden, I pushed my pace and took off toward the part of the path that was out in the sun.
THE LAST MILE
Once I was in that sunshine, it felt like I was actually running on the surface of the sun. Not only that, I could feel I was running up an incline and I hadn't even gotten to the bridge, which seemed so far away. I could hear Charley in my head, yelling 'ALL OF THE MARBLES!' But it was hot, and this was now HARD. Fine. I can do hard things, so I kept going. A volunteer said, "Run toward the globe, that's where the finish is." I could see it on the other side of the bridge, it still seemed far, but now I was pretty sure I'd make it. But wait, where is the chute? Where do I go after the bridge, my watch says I have only a quarter mile left, one track lap, but I can't figure this out from over here! And what is making this last mile feel SO DIFFICULT? Whose brilliant idea was it to make us run UP and over a bridge to get to the finish? This hurts! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH SUNSHINE?!?!
So. Much. Sunshine. GO! Get over that bridge, and get into the finish chute - the loooooong finish chute. I made it in. It was lined with joyous, screaming spectators - the first I'd seen since the shaded island was closed off to them. I was so happy to see all these humans, waiting for their racing humans to come through, and cheering each of us on in the meantime. I was alone in the chute, and the announcer called my name well before I was at the finish line, but when I heard "From Denver, Colorado, Liz Birthright" I knew I HAD NEARLY DONE IT. I was coming up on the end of so much more than this race, and I knew that, too. Another sharp breath.
I had one more little uphill pass to that finish line - it wasn't over yet, and I wanted to BOOK IT. As I did so, I got a lot of "Way to finish STRONG!" cheers and comments from people. YES. I was FINISHING STRONG. WIN. I might have been levitating. I saw my friend Jeannette on the final push, actually she yelled "Go, Liz!" and I was thrilled to hear someone from the crowd yell out my own name. Go, Liz, indeed.
And then theere it was, the arch over the finish line - The End, and also, The Beginning. I raised my arms up as I crossed over it, saying a thank you to God and the Universe for All of the Everything.
POST RACE
I feel the same right now as I did when I finished. I am so happy I did this, but so sad it's the end! All those workouts, all that planning, all that support, all that death and grief, the driving all the way back and forth across the entire USA, I got through all of it, I did the work, I leaned on my support system, I did it and I want to do another one!
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| Swim - 00:27:15, Bike - 03:33:17, Run - 02:18:40 (PR!!) |
But suddenly I was STARVING. I wanted food and I very likely wanted it AN HOUR AGO. Luckily the athlete tent was right there, and also luckily, they let Patrick come in so he could hold all my stuff - finisher hat, water bottle, visor, I shlepped everything off of me and onto him so I could top myself off. God bless the event coordinators for having Fritos on hand for athlete food - I wanted ALL OF THE SALT. I had two bags, and some chicken in the sesame salad they gave us, and the best Coca Cola I've ever had in my life. My legs were sore, and I was tired, but the race was DONE, I had a GREAT TIME and best of all... I DID IT!
After sarfing down the food, I changed into shorts and a t-shirt before heading into transition to pick up my stuff. Having a change of clothes was really fantastic, especially because we'd also have a half hour drive back to the hotel. Several athletes were in transition, and everyone was congratulating each other and sharing race experiences as we cleaned up our stuff and walked our bikes and our IronMan70.3 Finisher selves out. I found my morning clothes bag really easily just before transition exit. And that was that!
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| Of *course* I bought the shirt!! |
We penciled in some Oregon Fun for the days after the race. The next day we visited the Evergreen Air and Space Museum to see the Spruce Goose. Mr. Scandinavian Mullet was in heaven, I enjoyed it too, but after a couple hours walking, I really needed to sit down! Then we drove out to the Oregon coast for a couple days. Thank you, Fiestas for that suggestion, we had a great time, and it was a wonderful way to unwind. After our coastal adventure, another beautiful, forested drive to get Patrick to PDX so he could fly home. From there, I continued driving east solo, down the Columbia River Gorge toward home. The sun was setting, highlighting Multnomah Falls as I drove past and drenching the river and the gorge in glittering gold. That part of my drive was spectacular.
IMMEDIATE AILMENTS
From the race, I had one small blister from a sock that slipped, a tiny bit of chafing on my shoulder from my RMTC jersey (turns out it's fine for 8 miles, but not for 13, for me) and a pretty solid bruise from that swim kick. But other than that... nada. I didn't even know about the sock blister until the hot water from my shower hit it at the hotel.
I did pick up a sinus infection that hit me HARD on Wednesday, my longest day of solo driving homeward. I suspected it came from something in the river - locals were appalled that we'd swim down the Willamette - but I have no idea. My coach said she'd always get sick with a cold or something right after a big event, it's like your body pushes hard and then has nothing left to fight off infections, plus you're around a lot of people, etc. That makes sense. Regardless, it's no fun to get a cold, but the whole experience was worth it. But Wednesday's drive was awful because I felt like I had a really, really bad cold, and I was driving through a lot of boring nothing, by myself.
Also on Wednesday, I noticed I had to pee A LOT, like, way more than usual - not ideal for a car trip. I'm not sure if that was just my body ridding itself of the last of the caffeine and electrolytes from the race, or extra hydration from being sick, or what, but the frequency and amount of pee was excessive, and I was actually worried something was wrong. I consulted Dr. Google, and it seemed this is not uncommon after an endurance event, but if it didn't sort itself by the weekend I'd need to call my actual human doctor. [It sorted itself, thank goodness.]
Oh, one other point, I took caffeine on the race, which is incredibly helpful, but I could NOT get to sleep that night after I raced, and I was having a hard time sleeping Monday night, too! Just something to be aware of, for next time. I'm sure that being super run-down also contributed to me getting walloped by that sinus infection.
I spent Wednesday night with my niece and her family again. A great dinner and a rock solid twelve hours of sleep made for a MUCH better Thursday, as I drove across Wyoming. I was home with all my loves by dinnertime, and VERY ready to be out of the car. I'm not at all sorry I road tripped, though it probably would have been nicer had I not just driven out to Philly and back, in June. Basically, I drove across the entire continental US, round-trip, this summer! Patrick made only the westbound version of the cross-country tour. I will say road trips are generally a lot more fun when he's with me.
RETURN TO NORMAL
And after unpacking, doing all the laundry and putting things away, suddenly I have a lot more free time on my hands! I now have time to do fun stuff, which of course, "fun stuff" for me includes bike rides, swims, and I even got back on my Rollerblades in Wash Park last week. It was a JOY to be in the pool that first Saturday and start my swim watching my red IronMan70.3 wristband arc over my head. Yep, I DID that! And of course, part of the fun in the near future will include obtaining income - something me and my new friend Betsy were laughing about together - but right now I'm still enjoying the experience!
By the way, Betsy WON our age group in Oregon and is headed to 70.3 Worlds in New Zealand early next year - AWESOME! She really is an amazing athlete. I am so happy we met.
I was still a bit sore the first week, and tired as I resumed workouts the second week, but other than that, absolutely NOTHING HURTS, PHYSICALLY! Hiring a coach is SO GREAT for smart training to avoid injury - highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend! I was shocked to discover that I PR'd my half marathon time by nearly twelve minutes, at the END of a Half IronMan - I mean, honestly I had nowhere to go but UP, as far as my run ability is concerned, but it feels great to PR no matter what! Not only that, but I enjoyed every minute of the run, THE RUN! Even when my hamstring was threatening to cramp up, even during that blazing hot last mile under the sun, which seemed to stretch on forever in the best and worst way - I loved every minute. So, a very big thank you to my coach, J'ne Day-Lucore, for charting the course that led me to such joy.
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| Post-Oregon club chair happy hour at home |
And with that, I've now cut off the wristband, paid my bills and carried on with Training for Life. I know this post signifies the end, but I also know that IT'S ONLY JUST BEGUN. Onward.
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Thank you to everyone who was part of this journey. J'ne, Charley, my RMTC friends, my new training friends, my friends who watched my dogs, friends and family who housed us, supported us, tracked me from afar, lent me things, kept me healthy, repaired my body, wished me well, covered for me at work, cooked us meals, we don't take ANY OF THAT for granted! You were PART OF THIS EXPERIENCE. I thank you and I LOVE YOU ALL!
"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." - Proverbs 27:17, NIV
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PS - I'm not saying 'I'll never do a full IronMan,' because everyone who says that ends up doing one. But I am saying... I really never want to run a marathon. At all. ;)
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