I've been back for over two weeks now, but with my grandma passing away a few days after I got back, I flew up to New Jersey to be with family. My finals just finished and I've finally found the time to update my blog and let you all know how the race went.
Picture it...
A plane FULL of passengers completely decked out in Ironman gear. Ironman hats, Ironman jackets, Ironman socks, etc. Honestly, I think there were maybe four or five passengers who weren't race participants. I took a seat in the back of the plane (after nearly missing it due to the tardiness of the first flight) and one person jokingly asked me how many people I thought were sitting on the plane, wearing compression socks. I've never worn them, but if you're familiar with triathlon gear, it's a funny thing to think about... a plane full of people wearing compression socks.
Arriving in Cozumel was awesome! I stepped off the plane into a high 80's, low 90 degree temperature and I knew the next few days were going to be great. That is, after all 120 people on the plane (and their bike boxes) made it through security. I took a taxi to the host hotel and went up to my room, where I stood on the poolside balcony and looked out on the ocean. Perfect.
I put my bike together and began to look around. The island of Cozumel is far from what you probably picture when you think of Mexico and it always has a ton of tourists, but it's great. Exactly what you'd think of when thinking of a small, tropical island. And I got to practice my Spanish!
I also think, being one of the youngest competitors and also traveling alone, a lot of veteran racers took me "under their wing" and invited me on runs, rides and drives on the bike course. I went on a ride with two guys who have been doing triathlons (including Ironman races) since the 1980's!
But I feel like I'm taking too long to get to the good stuff: THE RACE.
My Abuelo and Abuela flew in from Miami to cheer me on and while I knew they were somewhere at the swim start, I didn't see them. I did see 2000 other competitors, mostly in speedsuits, beginning to hop off the dock and into the water for the 2000-person mass swim start. I was nervous, but more excited than anything else. Everything I had spent the last 10 months training for was right in front of me and it was about to start.
The gun went off and I actually started swimming beneath the dock. People were everywhere, arms thrashing trying to make their way out of the crowd. The swim was shaped like a rectangle and I managed to break out to the point where I could swim around the first corner of the rectangle. The turns were the hard parts. (The next morning I woke up with bruises all over my arms because the 200-pound guys on either side of me were determined to get in front and I, judging from how many bruises I had, I must have been in the way.) After that first turn was the longest stretch of the swim. I did what my coach, Dave Williams, told me to do and looked up every time I took a breath. I thought this would waste time, but it actually saved me time/kept me on course.
Somewhere in the middle of that long stretch was the first time I had ever gotten stung by a jellyfish and it hurt. It felt just like someone once told me it might: like someone lays an iron on your skin. Luckily, it was only the back of my leg, but it must have been a prime stinging spot. A few minutes later, I got stung again. Sea lice decided to join the party too, but with those, you don't realize until the next day and see mosquito-like bites on your body. Mine was covered in them. Still, the swim was going MUCH better than I had anticipated. I was keeping a steady pace and the water was far less choppy than it had been in the days before. Even still, my motion sickness loves to creep up on me and for the last side of the rectangular swim I was dry-heaving. Fun. But you know what? Best case scenario, Dave and I were hoping for me to swim a 1 hour, 20 minute time. (I didn't tell him, but I was thinking more along the lines of 1:30. Coming of out of the water, feeling like puking but getting ready for the bike, I glanced at my watch. 1 hour, 8 minutes. THAT got me pumped.
The transition was much longer than shorter distance triathlons, but nobody looked to be in too much of a hurry. We all did the usual gear (helmet, shoes, socks, sunglasses) and then applied sunscreen. I put on what I thought was a good amount and then looked around to see people painted in sunscreen, looking as though they had applied the whole bottle. "Is that really necessary?" I thought. YES, it was. I can confidently say that when, over two weeks later, my back looks like I'm still wearing a triathlon top.
But the bike. That was probably my favorite leg of the entire race. Not because of the actual biking, but largely because of the atmosphere surrounding the race. It literally seemed as though the entire island had taken the day off to come out and watch the race/cheer. It was simply amazing. The bike course was three loops around half of the island and whether we were in the city, in small towns or on back roads next to the ocean, people cheered. They screamed hopeful words and little kids waved. They did this for hours and I loved every minute of it. Even though I was trying to do my best time, I did take the time to wave.
As for the logistics of the bike, the roads were actually VERY well paved and the island was pretty much flat. I managed to average 20-21 miles per hour when riding through the city, but slowed down a lot on the backside of the island. One of the guys from a local triathlon store here in North Carolina was competing in the race and had driven the course the day before. He told me there was about a nine-mile stretch that was incredibly windy. I knew exactly what he was talking about when I hit the wind. It was ridiculously strong, causing many of us to literally grip our bike handlebars to keep from being blown off of our bikes. The wind was so strong, that many people (like myself) who were averaging 20-21 mph dropped down to about 14-15 mph and tried to maintain that. Needless to say, I was glad when I finished the last windy portion of the third loop. Bike time? Dave and I said the best case scenario would be around 6 hours and 40 minutes. My actual time? 6 hours, 25 minutes. "This is GREAT!" I thought. Now the run.
While I was on the bike, my splits were better than I expected and I feared I might have been expending too much energy. Getting off the bike, my legs were surprisingly fresh. I almost couldn't believe it and was excited to start the run. The run, I had felt though all my training, would go the best. In fact, with the projected run time I was hoping for/training for, I was looking at possibly finishing the entire race in about 12 hours. Sadly, it didn't work out that way.
I got off the bike and ran for about the first two miles. All of a sudden, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach and left a large stone where thier fist had been. I felt as though I either needed to use the bathroom or vomit, neither of which I seemed able to do. I tried my best to run, but walked the majority of the 26.2 miles. Dave had told me Coke would be my saving grace during the run, but the aid stations had run out of Coke and they didn't get any more Coke until mile 18. By then, it must have been too late because I literally vomited from mile 18 all the way to the finish line. Mosquitos were eating everyone alive, but after what seemed like forever, the finishing chute was in sight. I ran the last half mile just to cross the finish line.
I finished a LONG time after I was hoping to... which is why I'll have to do another Ironman. Just to prove I can do it faster.
