My race report begins Friday. I rode down to Galveston with my parents and my kids to get my race packet and check in. My sweet girl wore her Aurora dress and Tinkerbell shoes and it was epic. I zipped right through check-in as there were approximately 12 people there checking in. The first guy I happened upon asked if I was on the All World Athlete list and I almost died laughing. Taylor got me my wrist band, bib, and packet o' stickers and wished me well. Some super tall blonde dude got me a shirt and assured me I'd be fine, especially since I'm from the area and I'd been training in the humidity. At this point, I meandered over to the Mandatory Athlete Briefing and listened to all the details, including the fact that the water temperature was 75.5 (for those who don't know, anything above 76.1 is no longer wetsuit legal). This was in my head, but only a little. I know Texas weather and I was holding out hope that the water temp would stay down over the next 36 hours. After check-in, we tooled around the island and headed over to La King's for some candy and ice cream, which was pretty much torture. I somehow managed to resist temptation and diligently drank my water and Vitalyte.
Our amazing friends - the Longos - invited us over for spaghetti dinner and early carb loading that evening. Oddly enough, they had just picked up a kid off the side of the road who is 7 weeks into a journey from Tampa to San Diego on his bicycle. He's here from Holland and is just an amazing conversation piece. We swapped stories about cycling and I came to the conclusion that 56 miles on a tri bike was no big deal (he simultaneously came to the conclusion that 56 miles on a tri bike is insane). Anywho, Mr. Matt prayed for my race and Tys's journey, we ate a metric ton of spaghetti, we laughed until we hurt, and that was that.
Saturday afternoon, my SBMAT teammate - the amazing Sarah Kelley - picked me and Bruce the Bike up and we headed to Galveston. The athlete check-in line was nearly 3 hours long. Holy. Moley. I was so grateful we had made the extra trip to the island on Friday to save me from that madness! We racked our bikes, checked out the swim start, and headed home. After my traditional dinner of Fettuccine Alfredo and roasted broccoli, I was off to bed to toss and turn and turn and toss and toss and turn. I think I finally drifted off around midnight and was up by 4. I kissed my husband goodbye, snuck a quick kiss from my sleeping girl (Daniel was sleeping over with my folks), and headed out to face the day.
Heather picked me up. I warned her the night before that nerves either make me shut down completely or chat incessantly. Chatty Sheri showed up and I gabbed all the way to the race. I think I managed to choke down 6 bites of oatmeal and almond butter. The rest of my oatmeal is still in the back of Heather's truck. Barf. We parked, hiked the half mile to transition, and parted ways for the moment.
Transition set-up was quick and easy. I had taken a picture of my transition practice and knew exactly where I wanted everything. I got it situated, aired up the tires, and found a portapotty. I found Heather, Randi, Adam, and the Katy TriCrew outside of transition and hung around for a while. After the cannon went off for the first swim start, I started nervously edging toward the dock. Everyone who had done this race in the past assured me it would be wetsuit legal. "That's the coldest water I've ever jumped in." "This race has ALWAYS been wetsuit legal." "Why on earth would it NOT be wetsuit legal?" Well guess what? Race morning water temp = 77 degrees = .9 degrees too warm for a wetsuit. I had nearly 2 hours to make peace with that and by the time I headed to the dock among many panicked athletes, I was confident enough in my abilities to knock out the 1.2 miles wetsuit-free.
The swim start was in my top three favorite moments of the entire day. I gathered with my fellow pink caps and we all stood around smiling and trying not to puke on ourselves. I met so many amazing women standing on that dock, but only one name stuck in my head - Bonnie. I had people compliment my kit and ask me how many races I'd done. I had people assure me it was going to be amazing. I had people ask me where I was from and how long I'd been training and what my goal was. But as we left dry land and walked onto that dock, Bonnie and her friend were holding hands and walking in solidarity down that dock to face the day. Fears, dreams, doubts - I don't know what they were facing, but they were doing it together. I smiled at them and said I wished I had somebody to hold my hand. Without hesitating, they let go of each other and each reached for my hands. And here I was, walking hand in hand with two strangers to the water's edge to tackle the most incredible challenge I'd ever laid before myself. In that moment, all of my fears and apprehension and anxiety and doubt washed away and I knew it was going to be ok.
After I'd had this moment of clarity, the speakers began blasting All the Single Ladies and that dock erupted in a wild, joyous dance of silliness. The 35-39 women were here to play! We were all shimmying and snapping and skipping down the dock like we were at some wild dance party and MAN it was fun. A bunch of kindred spirits getting ready to do what we love and love what we do and that music was perfect to begin our journey. After I cavorted to the edge of the dock, I yelled, "CANNONBALLLLLLL!" and splashed into the water like a maniac. Everyone made their way to the starting line and the announcer asked how many women were here for their first 70.3. I kid you not, half of us hooted or hollered or waved our hands. And the other half? They cheered and hooted and hollered and wished us all the best on our adventure. I couldn't help myself. I shouted out 10 seconds before the horn, "I LOVE THIS SPORT!" Everyone cheered and laughed and agreed with me and off we went.
I had been so worried about the swim. It's my weakest link, I said. I'm not a strong swimmer, I said. Once that horn went off, none of that mattered. I started swimming and before I knew it, the first buoy was coming up. I had counted the buoys on the map, but I was so busy keeping myself distracted, I forgot to count them when they were right there in front of me. The map showed 6/10/4 (I think), but in reality, it was more like 3/6/2. By the time I rounded the first turn, I had caught up to the wave in front of me, which was utterly shocking to me. Of course by this point, the wave behind me had caught up to me, but whatever, man. I was DOING it and doing it well enough to catch somebody! My friend Melissa had called me on Thursday to give me an amazing pep talk. She mentioned that the side with 10 buoys will feel like "you've been swimming it your whooooooole life and it will never end." I'm not sure if it was the decreased number of buoys or the fact that my amazing Ironman friend said it would be so long (or maybe both), but it seemed like no time at all that I was upon the red turn buoy and I could see the swim exit. Just as I rounded the turn buoy, somebody ran his arm down the length of my right leg and BOOM. Leg cramp. I could see the exit and hear the announcer and NO. WAY. was I letting this stop me! I kicked like a crazy person and the cramp worked itself out. I put my head down and picked up my pace and came out of the water with a HUGE smile on my face. I peeled off my cap and goggles and ran up the carpet with my fists in the air shouting, "I didn't drown!!!!!!"
Swim time: 50:01
I felt like my bike transition was quick, but my official time says otherwise. Some 5 minutes later, I was off!
The beginning of the bike course was just a few turns around Moody Gardens and out to the seawall/3004. The first 5 miles flew by and I was feeling confident in my abilities to finish before the cutoff. Sadly, the cadence monitor on my computer wasn't working, and I just had to wing it. It seemed like no time at all when we saw the pros coming back in on the other side of the road. Those dudes were bookin'! I prayed for a lot of friends during this portion of the race. They were mostly fleeting thoughts that jumped from friend to friend to friend, but it helped pass the time. About an hour into the ride, it started raining (I heard other people talking about sleet, but I never saw or felt it). It really was perfect on the way out. The rain kept us cool and the wind was just a slight tailwind.
I was having a nice little chat with myself about why I do this. I know why I like triathlon (it's fun and I like the challenge and I love the people), but I was really trying to hone in on why 70.3. I was about 30 miles in and climbing a tiny little bridge that crossed over the gulf. There was nothing on my left but the gulf and nothing on my right but the bay. There really weren't too many people aruond me either. For the most part, I was alone. I responsible for no one and nothing except for myself and for climbing that little bridge and turning the pedals over. I have never been more sure of who I am. I had never felt so free and so alive and so confident about being a mom, wife, daughter, neighbor, friend. I learned a lot about myself that day, but this moment of clarity was by far the most valuable lesson.
I also learned that you (I) ought not put all of my calories in my drink bottle. Because it was overcast, raining, and windy, I didn't want to drink. I knew that if I didn't, I'd risk bonking on the run with little to no fuel in my belly. I forced myself to drink, which later proved to be a mistake. Nothing I couldn't overcome, but I won't do that again. By around mile 40, the wind really started to pick up. I never wanted to quit and never thought I couldn't do it, but MAN ALIVE I was ready to be off that bike! I remember looking down at my computer and seeing 10.4 mph and thinking, "These last 10 miles will never end!" Right about then, a lady named Karen pulled up next to me and we had a nice chat about her business (she owns a restaurant: http://oxhearthouston.com/) and about my kids and before I knew it, we were turning off the seawall and heading back into transition. Look at my face. I had never been so happy to see a pile of crushed concrete and busted pallets in my life. Ok. So maybe I've never even seen a pile of crushed concrete and busted pallets pointing the way back into transition, but you get it.
Official bike time: 3:37:17
Transition was nondescript with a quick stop at the potties, some sunscreen, and new shoes. No sooner had I run out of transition than I saw Heather and Randi. They had some words of wisdom - don't wait until you're hungry to eat, drink lots of water, and stay cool - and they ran along side me for a few yards. I settled into a decent pace and BOOM! There was the first aid station. Stopped for ice, water, and Gatorade, and really started to notice a sloshy feeling in my belly. I knew I shouldn't have forced the liquids on the bike, but I am terrified of overheating. Been there. Done that. No thanks. (See this post.) I settled into a rhythm again and BOOM! THERE WAS MY DADDY AND MY KIDS! I got a HUGE surge of energy seeing my babies and hearing their voices. I still had a cheesy grin smeared all over my face coming around the next bend and BOOM! There was my hubs!!! He high-fived me and off I went. I settled into a rhythm and BOOM! There were Randi and Heather - AGAIN! Are you noticing a pattern here? This run course was the most supportive thing I've ever seen. Heather assured me that my family was at the parking garage, and that was just around the corner. THERE THEY WERE!!! MY PERSONAL CHEERING SQUAD! With signs and cowbells and bubble guns and my lips were about to split in half I was smiling so big. Everyone in this picture was there for ME. Friends. Family. Neighbors. And see that guy in the blue ragland shirt? He's Dutch. Here from Amsterdam to ride his bicycle from Tampa to San Diego. And my neighbors convinced him to come cheer for me. I had wings. This race was mine.
The run continued like this. Rhythm, friends, rhythm, family, rhythm, aid station, rhythm, dentist. Wait. What? Yes. Dentist. I ran into my dentist around mile 9. I had seen him that morning at the swim start, but I figured we wouldn't bump into each other again. Well, we hooked up at an aid station and leap frogged for a while. When he realized I had a plan (run:walk ratio), he decided to stick with me. I had in my head that I was going beg someone - anyone - to meet me at the finish. By the time we got back around to my cheering squad, they were ALL making their way to the finish. I could've cried. Dr. Moore and I chatted about racing and kids and not teeth and before I knew it, we were coming up on the finish chute. I could hear the announcer and the crowd coming around the corner and I was like a kid at Christmas. I was all but dancing at this point. Dr. Moore and I parted ways at this point so we could finish solo. I don't know what I thought I'd do at the finish, but I held my "rock on!" sign up over my head and I was howling like a banshee across that finish line. I did it. There was my husband. My kids. My daddy. My inlaws. My friends. It was amazing. just amazing.
Official finish time: 7:41:00
I simply could not have done this without my family and friends. For every friend who showed up on race day, there were 10 at home who wished me well, asked about my training, and sent me encouraging text messages. I can't say enough positive things about my husband, my kids, my parents, my friends, my extended family. You guys gave me wings. I absolutely cannot wait to do it again.
***I raced this race in honor of my cousin Cameron, who was taken from us too soon. He only lived 6 short days, but his life has touched our entire family deeply. He would have been 19 on Sunday. I carried his memory and his family's hope with me on this race as they held me in their prayers. I know that we pulled each other through that day.***
