As we drove to the lake and I was reviewing plans with the hubby, I suddenly looked up to see not one but two familiar cars on the road in front of us. My brother and his girlfriend, as well as Coach E's wife and daughter were making their way to the lake to support, cheer and even take part in portions of this little crazy Sunday morning (and afternoon) I had planned. I couldn't stop the tears that sprung into my eyes. Every single person that was on the way had sacrificed their Sunday the previous week to stand in the blazing hot sun at Ironman Raleigh 70.3. And here they were again, for little old me. The love and support I felt at that moment continued throughout the day as I was reminded over and over again of how wonderfully blessed I am with supportive friends and family.
Coach E had checked the lake conditions after the torrential downpours our area had received on Friday night and had reported that there would be some debris on the lake in spots, but it would be safe for swimming. As we drove across the first of many bridges leading to Ebenezer Point (our home base for the day), I noticed the debris on the water first, but the hubby called my attention to the conditions. The entire lake looked like a sheet of glass. He said, "You couldn't ask for more beautiful water this morning" and he was right. After the rolling waves and white caps of the previous week and that terrible swim, this was perfect. This was what I needed to get my head back in the game and slay this dragon.
After pulling into the parking lot and getting last minute details nailed down with my crew for the day, I set up T1 and T2 in the back of the Honda Pilot. (For those of you that are not familiar with triathlon, T1 and T2 and simply transition areas. This is where the athletes rack their bikes, keep their supplies for each leg of the race and change equipment between disciplines.) I laid out bike shoes and helmet, tri top and running shoes, visor and water bottles. I had a box full of nutritional supplements and a cooler full of water bottles to keep me going and pointed these out to the group, so the hubby and friends would be able to find what I needed. (For Raleigh 70.3, I had trained with the products that Ironman would use on the course, so I didn't worry with packing my own things that day. When I decided to attempt this on my own, I had to fill in some holes with things that would have been available on the course.) At last, I pulled on my wetsuit and headed toward the lake. Coach E has a 1.2 mile course that our group of friends uses for training, but due to the recent rain and the lack of beach at the far end, we had to adjust the course and start at the near end. Four laps. Four laps around the buoys that marked the NO WAKE ZONE would be my 1.2 mile course. Four seemed like SO many, but I was here to do this. I had not pulled everyone out of the comfort of their beds to watch me give up.
The hubby, my brother, Coach E's wife and I entered the water and made our way to the start point as the rest of the crew watched from the shore, keeping the kiddos entertained as this long adventure was about to begin. Waiting in the water was Molly with my kayak support and reassurance that if anything went wrong, she would be an arm's length (or a little more) away.
We reached the starting point and I took a deep breath (and maybe stalled a minute). . .
3. . .2. . .1. . .
Started my watch, put my face in the water and started swimming. The hubby had been right. The water was amazingly flat and it didn't take long for me to reach the first buoy and turn to start my first loop.
The first loop around the buoys was about getting comfortable and finding a rhythm. The four of us who were swimming each kept our own pace, staying pretty close together for the first loop and eventually spreading out for the remainder of the swim. Molly stayed close by in the kayak, but my goal for this swim was independence. I didn't want to stop or rest or use her for assistance in any way. I knew deep down that I could do this swim, and was ready to prove it. One by one I counted down the laps. And one by one they seemed to get easier and more effortless. I later remarked to the hubby that I could honestly say this was the first Open Water Swim that I had absolutely no fear or panic and could actually think of something besides swimming while my face was in the water! Lap 2 brought a sense of freedom and a chance to focus on breathing and gliding and moving forward. I was feeling confident and excited that I was half-way to the finish of the swim. At the start of the third lap, the sound of a boat motor roared through the water and as I turned to breathe, I saw the watercraft quickly approaching the swim area. As it came to a halt just outside of the buoys, it brought wake and waves to the water and memories of the previous week's terrible swim to my mind. However, the thought was fleeting. As the first wave rolled by, I was able to stop my panic before it took over and decided to breaststroke and watch the water until it had calmed. The rolling waves stopped as quickly as they started and I was able to resume my swim finishing laps 3 and 4 with a new sense of confidence. As I rounded the last buoy, Molly called to me, "Hey, check your watch," but I wasn't ready to look yet. I felt that I had been faster than the 1:20:12 that I had posted the previous week that resulted in my DNF in Raleigh, but I wasn't sure how much faster. I finished out with a quick sprint to the swim area to exit the water and finally took a sneak peek. . .
00:56:57
WHAT??
I had finished the swim almost 24 minutes faster than I had the previous week. I was elated and didn't mind letting everyone present know of my success. Last week the shore of that lake was filled with cries of disappointment, but this week I filled it will squeals of joy. I knew I had it in me. I had logged pool time that was comparable, but the pressure, the time limits, the rough conditions of the previous weekend were too much for my panic-filled mind to process. This was the "me" that had trained. This was the time I had trained for.
After a celebration and a triple check of my watch to make sure it was really working and that was really the time I swam, I ran to the car to transition to the bike portion of this adventure. I quickly pulled on my tri top, grabbed my bike shoes, visited the bathhouse, and put my water bottles on the bike. Coach E and the hubby were ready to accompany me on my 56 mile ride. The kiddos and our friends waved us off and planned to meet us at a "water bottle hand-off point" to replenish our supplies. As we turned out of the parking lot onto the main road, Coach E explained that he had figured out a route that would take us to the 8 mile marker from Raleigh 70.3. We would turn around there and ride the same course I would have ridden last weekend up to the 35 mile marker. Once we reached that point (which is where traffic picks up and the roads become more dangerous without official "race" markers) we would turn around and head back to Ebenezer.
I was familiar with a large portion of the ride since I had completed several training rides in the area. There were some nice stretches of flats, some great rolling hills and a few challenging climbs (and quick descents on the return trip). The ride was actually enjoyable and the boys let me take the lead, set the pace, and drafted off of me from time to time. I am not typically the leader when we ride, so this was a new experience, but I knew that this was my ride to pull, like it or not. Our one and only "aid station" was located at the same point as an aid station from the week prior. As we approached, I could hear the sound of cow bells and yelling. Molly and the kiddos had set up on the side of the road and were ready with chilled water bottles from the cooler and bonk breaker bars. We stopped just long enough for me to eat (a new goal is to fuel while riding--easier said than done), kiss the kiddos, and swap out bottles. Soon we were off again. The out and back nature of the ride made the second half seem to fly by even quicker. Runkeeper estimated my distance at 56.55 miles (Elevation gain of 2521') in 03:40:04, but given the aid station, traffic and stop signs, my watch read closer to 3:45. (Yes, I would love to be a faster rider. . . goals. GOALS!!)
As I rode the 56 miles, the hubby remarked about how quiet I had become. I admitted that I was worried about what was to come. . . the run. Typically the run is my favorite part of triathlon, but it was hot, I had to run 13.1 miles ALONE, and did I mention that it was HOT (88 degrees). As soon as I dismounted my bike, pulled on my running shoes and swapped my helmet for a visor, I began to question my sanity for putting together this little challenge. I mean, what did I have to prove? Why was I doing this anyway? But I pressed on, knowing that I was so close to what I set out to do.
Amazingly I couldn't convince one person of my support group to run the half marathon that waited for me, baking in the sun. Not one. I left the parking lot alone, keeping a decent pace, but reminding myself that there were still many miles ahead of me. The course for the run was not preplanned. I had an idea of where I needed to go to make the distance, but I wasn't sure exactly what it would look like.
I had gone about a half mile when the hubby drove by on his way to pick up more bottled water and gatorade. I was so hot and doubtful. But he had a cooler full of ice towels and words of wisdom to help me keep moving forward.
**side note: Ice towels are awesome. I am SO glad that I thought ahead and stuffed clean small towels in the cooler filled with ice. I was able to swap them out as needed and refresh them when they weren't icy anymore. I highly recommend them. Seriously**
After picking up supplies, the hubby and Coach E rejoined me (in their cool, air-conditioned vehicles) on a quiet little country road. They would drive about a 1/4 mile and stop until I reached their vehicles, offered assistance (ice towels, water, gatorade, endurolytes, anti-fatigue tabs, gu chomps), made sure I was ok, and then drove forward for my next stop. Sometimes I passed them by with a wave or thumbs up, other times I paused to replenish. The run was lonely with the exception of their presence and I am so very thankful that they were there to keep my spirits high.
I was able to keep a consistent, albeit slow, pace of 10:55 for the 13.1 hot, hilly miles (854' elevation gain) I covered. There were no crowds, no loudspeakers, no cowbells and no marked paths. I dodged traffic and used street signs to pace my walk/run as I ran over the bridges that I had previously biked earlier in the day.
My 70.3 mile journey ended on the road that led to the beach where my swim had begun Seven hours and twenty-nine minutes earlier. I was alone when my GPS clocked 13.1, and honestly it was a perfect ending to the day. I took a few seconds to be truly thankful. Thankful for finishing, thankful for second chances, thankful for friends and family, thankful for my body and what it can do, thankful for ice towels, incredibly thankful for my hubby and thankful for my stubborness and mindset of not being finished. I had done it. Sure, it wasn't an "official" race, but it was good enough for me. . . for now. I had finished what I started.
I continued further down the road and found my little family--the hubby and kiddos, Molly and Coach E. A length of toilet paper was stretched between The Reporter and Molly for my finish line. With hands raised, I ran through and knew that I had finally Finished.
And I knew that this was only the beginning.
My 70.3
Swim: 56:57
Bike: 3:40:04
Run: 2:24:01
Total (on my watch after transitions and aid stations): 7:29:20
Wish I could of been there!
ReplyDeleteI just read this post and your other recent ones. Awesome!!! I'm not finished yet either. :)
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