Ironman Race Report...and thanks.

So, I spent this weekend doing something crazy, maybe stupid, and definitely time consuming. Nine months ago, I started a journey to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, and then run a marathon (26.2) in a single day.

I have to admit (and Brian can attest) that I was awfully nervous going into the start of the Ironman. I'm (ahem) not a very good swimmer and I get really anxious around a ton of people in the water.
I waded into the water right after the pros went off (10min before the age groupers) and tried to stake out a spot not too far from the first buoy, but with very few people around. Unfortunately, as the start neared, the spaces behind and in front of me started to fill in. The beginning of the swim could only be accurately described as "a street fight" (as coach K puts it). There were bodies everywhere. At one point I swam right up onto a guy's back. I grabbed for water and ended up with a handful of feet of the person in front of me. People kept grabbing my feet. Half the time that I raised my arm to take a stroke, I hit another part of someone else's body. It stayed that way until I managed to make it on the inside of the buoys. Once I relaxed a little bit, the swim felt alright. I had a lot of energy (and some excess caffeine in my system), and I felt strong. Everytime we got to a buoy the crowd would bunch up again (and there would be hitting, punching, and kicking) and then spread. After the first lap (of a two lap course) it started to seem like I had been in the water for a long time (it also seemed at this point that I had swallowed quite a bit of water due to the thrashing; I was a bit worried that this would upset my stomach on the bike). Eventually, I made it around the course (after getting jacked in the eye/goggle on the way in) and ran up the ramp to the wetsuit strippers. Let me say this: the volunteers at the Ironman are by far the best volunteers I have ever encountered at any race ever. I imagine that this is what royalty must feel like (you know, if royalty were dirty, smelly, and chafe-y). Anyway, I had my wetsuit stripped off me and ran up the helix (which is basically the circular part of the on-ramp to a parking garage [but helix sounds nicer]). From there, I ran inside to grab my bag with my change of clothes (conveniently numbered and ordered). Unfortunately, I had figured out where my bag was from the other side and so it took me a minute to find my bag (this, plus realizing that I had to go to the bathroom after changing made it an extra long transition). Once in the changing area, which was next to the bag area, I was pretty much given my own personal helper who literally helped me get dressed (again, awesome). A quick porta-potty stop and I was on my bike and riding out of T-2. I finished the swim in 1:25, which wasn't bad (for me) considering I figured that I'd do worse (or drown, which would be much worse).

The first couple miles on the bike were slow going due to all of the traffic coming out of T-2 and due to a crash (with full medical personnel) at about mile 2. Once I opened up on the bike, I realized that I felt pretty good. For the first 40 miles or so, I actually had to hold myself back. I had all sorts of pent-up taper energy (and probably a little leftover punch from the swim) and I just wanted to crush the bike, but I knew that I had to save some energy for the run. The bike was relatively uneventful, which was a good thing because I spent most of it paranoid that I was going to flat out or that something equally heinous but out of my control was going to happen. I hit a low point in the ride when I hit mile 56 and realized that I had a whole half the bike left and that it had just gotten windy and that all of a sudden I felt like I wasn't moving. A couple miles later I started passing people again, saw a couple people I knew spectating, and all was right in the world again. I made it off the bike in 6:42 which, frankly, I was a little disappointed with. I never fancied myself much of a biker, and I felt like I had made tremendous gains in my biking ability this year and would finish around 6:30. However, my Garmin went out with about five miles to go on the bike, so I didn't know what my split was until after the race was over and I looked it up. That is also how I came to run the marathon entirely watchless (that and the fact that my digital watch [er...Brian's digital watch] had conked out the night BEFORE the race). I eventually got off my bike, handed the bike to a volunteer, and...staggered. My brain was telling my legs to go one way but they were entirely working on their own. I tried to walk straight so no one would send me to a med tent (kind of like trying to look sober in front of someone that you don't want to know that you are drunk), got dressed in T-2 (with the help of another volunteer) and ran out and past the capital.

The first couple miles of the run seemed to stretch on forever. My legs felt okay once I started moving, but it was a little difficult to get my mind into the new task at hand. After a mile or two, I began actually feeling pretty good and made myself a promise that unless I started throwing up or cramping up (neither of which seemed to be an imminent problem) that I would run the whole way to the turn around point near the capital (which, cruelly, also happens to be the finish [meaning that you run right by the finish and then turn around and do another half marathon]). My legs felt really good at that point and spectators (and other competitors) started to yell out things like "nice pace 342" or "looking strong" (and I got the impression, although I might have been delusional, that they actually meant it). By the time that I made it to the turn around point, I was in really good spirits. The course had doubled back onto State Street where all the crowds were, and I saw some people I knew (Jeff, with his megaphone, Tory's awesome cheering section, and Brian, Tim, and Julie) who all seemed surprised that I had made it to the turn-around point so quickly. The rest of the marathon was a blur. My quads started to hurt around mile 18, but it was no big deal because as someone who has run several marathons, I knew that I could run through it (and I had been popping enough salt all day to stave off cramping). Around mile 20, my stomach (which had actually been sloshing most of the marathon) started to get a little queasy. I remembered what coach said and started drinking the cola that they had on the course instead of sports drink. The cola had the almost immediate effect of calming my stomach (I tried sports drink once more and the feeling of queasiness returned- that was all for the sports drink). Since I was no longer drinking salty sports drink, I doubled up on salt and kept running. All the salt taking and the cola drinking slowed me down a little at aid stations, but this was okay. Being that I didn't have a watch on me, I had no idea how long the marathon was taking me until I asked someone in the crowd what time it was about a mile from the finish. As I ran towards the finish, I started to choke up thinking about all the time and effort that I had put into this race and just the sheer length of the race itself. I managed to pull myself together to finish something that I had started almost a year ago (a race that, when I signed up, I honestly wasn't sure that I would be able to do) and cross the finish line ("Cindy Potocki, you are an Ironman"). I finished the race in 12:24:43 with a 4:02 marathon time.
I know that this year I have been extremely wrapped up in the completion of this one goal. I want to thank my family, friends, and especially Brian for all the love and support while I trained, and obsessed, and complained, and strategized for this one day. I appreciate everyone's understanding as I missed birthdays, baptisms, and countless other get-togethers in order to train. Even if you can't understand why I did this or think I'm crazy, let me tell you this: the sacrifice was well worth it.


“Most people never get there. They’re afraid or unwilling to demand enough of themselves and take the easy road, the path of least resistance. But struggling and suffering, as I now saw it, were the essence of a life worth living. If you’re not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you’re not constantly demanding more from yourself—expanding and learning as you go—you’re choosing a numb existence. You’re denying yourself an extraordinary trip.”
-Dean Karnazes

I'm the kid who cries at Disneyland...

So, I made it up to Madison in one piece (barely, considering my driving skills) and with everything I needed to pack (I think- I at the very least have my bike).
In a way, today felt more epic than Epic did. Everything about Ironman today was overwhelming...the packing, the drive, waiting in line for registration (nothing like waiting in line for an hour to get weighed in public), and the Ironman store itself (the Ironman store seriously could probably only be compared to something at Disney...everything is logoed, everything is overpriced, and people wait in line for an hour to buy stuff).
Anyway, sometime around 8:30 tonight, in the grocery store trying to pick out which type of Gatorade to purchase (and did I want a Gatorade Recovery drink for the finish line? They are pretty much the worst taste I've ever put in my mouth, but they say recovery...everyone likes recovery, right?) I hit sensory overload. Too many bright lights, and lines, and shiny (and yet indistinguishable) things all day. I needed to lie down. Immediately.
I'm excited for Sunday (and terrified, did I forget to say terrified?), but I already feel like I've run some sort of race today. Or been to Disneyland. Total sensory overload.

It all comes down to...well...this.

I realize that I have been extremely lax in blogging, and for that, my three readers, I apologize. Brian keeps bugging me and telling me that I've missed documenting the most important weeks of training, but everything lately has really just been such a blur (Verona...Mt. Horeb...School...chores...Madison...bike...swim...run...laundry...laundry...laundry [there really has been a ton of laundry]).
Even Epic weekend seemed uneventful. It rained. I got a flat. Other than that I rode my bike. It hurt less than I thought. I got more bored than I figured. I never want to eat another shot blok again. (On a side note, I did get pulled over somewhere in Wisconsin for speeding and got out of the ticket by telling the officer that I was training for Ironman all day...).
I should be sleeping right now but I'm up. I just spent a couple of hours packing, but I still feel like I'm not going to end up bringing something that I really need. I guess that worrying that I won't have enough Blistex to fill all the special needs bags is better than worrying about all the other things that might go wrong on Sunday.  I go back and forth between being really proud of myself for not freaking out yet and then freaking out a little that I'm not freaking out yet (somehow I blame Catholic school for this).
I'm leaving for Madison tomorrow morning so I should probably get some sleep. More updates to come.