O.K., I'm a little late in getting this race report done. But, hey - I had to go on a mini-vacation with my family over spring break and then I went right back to training. Well, not RIGHT back.
It did take a week-plus to recover. So, without further ado . . .
It was a cold Saturday morning in April. I had slept well the night before, but the alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. Oh-so-comfortable in bed. . . but, I must get up because I am one of those neurotic people who must get to the transition area pretty much the minute it opens. And, I might add, I am not the only one!
So - up I go, get dressed, try to eat & call Vit to ask him a question. Well, guess what? He's not even up yet! GET UP, VIT . . . you're one of the neurotic ones, too. Let's go!
We load up the car with the gear and it's off to the race we go.
With my husband & Vit's wife, Lola, in tow, we get down to the parking area & take off on the bikes to the transition area. I'm feeling pretty good. Only mild anxiety at this point. I think the outfit Vit is wearing is keeping my mind off my fear, with his compression socks & his camouflage shorts. (Thanks for the laugh, Vit. You always cheer me up.)
Into transition, find my rack, locate a nice spot where I can't get my gear thrashed by some dumb chick who shows up late & feels it is her prerogative to fit her bike and her gear into an area that is already filled. It is one of my biggest pet peeves when people do that. BIG.
I'm happy to be near some really nice ladies. Most of them are veteran 70.3 triathletes. All of them are super nice . . . until the dumb chick who shows up late and decides that she'll stuff her bike into a space that doesn't exist. She knocks off the helmet that's on the bike & feels obliged to tell us all how the bikes need to be stacked! Well, kiss off, bitch! (I didn't really say that, but I did think it.)
Now that my area is ready, Vit & I head out to find G-Money & H.R. Pufnstuf. Oh, and to check out the competition. ha ha
After a chat with my friends I'm ready to put on my wetsuit & pee. Yes, pee on myself, in my wetsuit. If you do tri's, you'll understand. If not - well, you might find that gross. Sorry!
The really funny thing is that I REALLY have to pee . . . a lot! So when I finally let loose, at first there's a nominal amount running out the bottom of my wetsuit. Then, it's a large amount forming a pool of urine around me & running across the asphalt. I have to tell the ladies I'm talking to what I've done. The comments they make are not of disgust, but instead they say things like, "Great! That means you're hydrated!" & "Oh, you must be warm!"
I'm still a bit embarrassed, especially for the woman sitting on the ground next to me. She didn't get it in her direction. Once the line moves forward, it's kinda funny to see other women having to stand in my "pee puddle." hee, hee
Enough!!! On to the swim. My group of white caps - Wave 13 - enters the water to swim out to the starting buoy - only 100 yards or so - I'm excited more than nervous. I know I have to "just keep swimming." And that is what I do! I have a really nice swim. Find a nice clean line without a ton of people to crawl over or hit in the face, etc. I do get kicked in the face once, causing my goggle lens to be dislodged from my eyeball. No biggie - I'm able to get it back on without a problem.
Out of the water & into T1 . . . I run into the transition, grab my gear, make a decision to take off & try to get my gloves & arm warmers on while I ride. Which I manage to do, thank you very much. I probably look a little silly.
The first 10 miles I feel like my legs are made of lead. I push on & finally find my groove. At mile 29-ish, I need a pee break, take it at a porta-potty (the one with the Marine yelling the entire time, "Ooo-rah!").
When I get back on my bike, when . . .what to my wondering eyes should appear? A rather steep hill that would require a small gear!
I don't get discouraged . . . I'm excited to just take the hill as it comes. "Live in the moment," as Vit says.
I have fun with that hill. I talk to other people, watch them go by me, watch them as I go by. Watch one gal hit the curb & almost tip over! Glad she doesn't. I don't think I can stop because it will be too hard to get started! Nice altruistic me . . . thinking about others.
Onward & upward . . . the rest of the ride is uneventful. Except for the head wind that we all have the last 11 or so miles back to the beach. It's just time to put my head down & keep pedaling.
Back at the transition - into T2 - and I cannot run with my mostly new shoes & cleats. I just cannot do it. I also have some horrible back pain. So, I stop in the transition area, take off my shoes & walk at a moderate pace to my area to get ready to "run." I think I will just take my time & not really care about my time. (As it turned out, I learned later that my T2 was faster than T1!! Go figure.)
As I head out for my "run," I'm experiencing a great deal of pain in my right low back with every step, so it's time for some medication. Take some, do my walk/run, hit the wonderful sand, for quarter of a mile (x4) . . . all I have to say is YUK. What a pain in the butt.
By mile 1, I have to take more medication - yup - I'm doping!! But I don't think it helps my performance at all. (Although I did my run/walk in 2:56:04, which is my best half-marathon time.)
It's two loops on the run, so I'm happy to see all my boys - Vit, H.R. & G-Money. I'm also thrilled to see some great friends on the course out there with their big smiles, cheers & kisses.
(Thanks for coming out, Big Daddy D, VAD & their nephew. It was nice to see all your smiling faces.)
Overall, I end up having fun on the run. The support crew, AKA volunteers, are awesome, the woman with the dog who keeps encouraging me & the stoners in front of their house with their cowbell, all keep me going.
When my two loops are done I get to make the left-hand turn into the final stretch to the finish. Oh, boy, does that feel good. I see my hubby, tons of people cheering for me & coming over the finish line feeling delirious & having H.R. there to put my medal around my neck. "What are you doing volunteering?" I think. Even though he's done and finished the race . . . I'm a bit loopy. Vit is there. G-Money, too. And there are hugs & kisses all around. I'm extremely happy to have my 1st 70.3 under my belt!!
What an amazing feeling. One I won't forget - until the Alzheimer's kicks in. Seriously, great feeling. Plus, I got a medal.
OH! - did I forget to mention the blisters? Yes, I got two beautiful blisters on the bottom of each foot. Those were no fun. They squished with every step.
Also, I told everyone after the race that I did not think I would be able to do the Ironman. I said it was going to be too hard & I was going to be unable to deal with it. Everyone said not to think about it, just enjoy the moment.
It wasn't 'til dinner - well the cocktail part of dinner - that I was ready to go do Ironman!! Yeah, baby, let's do it! IMAZ November 22, 2009, here I come!!
Well, I think that is all I have to say . . . except a special thanks again to Lola & my hubby. You two are the best jock straps!
Sorry it took so long to write this, but hey! I've been training for my Ironman.
Much peace & love,
Note: Photos will be added soon.