A Day in the Life of a Girl Gone Mad....
Ironman Florida - November 9th, 2002
On November 13th, 2002, I made it back successfully from my first true 'big adventure' in Panama City Beach, Florida. My feet were still swollen and showing the wear from this 'outing'. But I was in one piece nonetheless. I had finished Ironman Florida. And two years before that date, I didn't even know how to swim. I had seen it as a personal quest - the next step in a steady stream of physical and mental challanges I had begun seven years ago. It was then that I decided that my 30's were going to be the start of my life, and a decade to remember. Don't ask me when I first thought about doing it. I am not exactly sure. But pushing my limits has always been an appeal to me - a never-ending pathway of.....enlightment ...self-actualization... or, maybe more simply, just my refusal to age. Yes, that's pretty much the most honest description, I think.
In the town of Boise where I live, I am amazed continually by the support I receive whenever I speak of some new 'hairbrain' idea I have. And believe me, many of them truly are way out of my league when I first think of them. Many people, some older or younger than I, ask me to tell them my story after I complete these quests - wanting to hear about my experience or see it from my perspective, which is perhaps much different than traditional accounts of fantastic journeys and feats that people accomplish all over the world every day. Maybe it's because of my age. Maybe it's because of my gender. Maybe it's because at first glance, I hardly seem the type to go after some of the goals I set for myself ( hence the above title). But for whatever reason, its extremely encouraging and motivating....knowing that people look at me, a fairly ordinary 37 year old woman by most competative athletic standards, and think "well, if Garretson can do it...maybe I can !" THAT, my friends.....is what makes all the days of frustration and self-doubt, all the knee pain, fatigue and achy muscles....worth it - motivating others, directly or indirectly, to consider pushing themselves in an area that they may not have even thought of before. That's good stuff.
On this particular endeavor, I was overwhelmed, both before I left, by the numbers of people wishing me well and tracking my efforts...and by all the 'congrats' and 'you did it!' s that I received upon my return. This included an unexpected, over-the-top welcome I got at the airport when I arrived back in Boise. A small group of my fellow Boiseans, led by my zany and enthusiastic friend, Cindy ....were awaiting my arrival - poster boards and flowers in hand. It was just too much. But of course, I couldn't stop smiling. And I realized fully for the first time since I had moved to that town....that I really do have incredible friends. And funny enough, I even got a few of them asking me how they could learn to do triathlon or an Ironman themselves! Ha! Somehow I felt like telling them, "anyone can do anything they have the determination and commitment for, BUT... are you ready to be labeled 'crazy' by pretty much everyone you meet?" I am half kidding of course. I actually love every minute of my life-adventures, even when they do have me questioning my sanity.
So I thought I'd update you in general on the highlights of Ironman Florida. It was, overall, an incredible experience. I can't really describe it in full, but I think you'll get an understanding of what went through my head as I took on this personal challenge. A challenge that required one full year of sweat and commitment, and over 146 miles of determination to complete.
SATURDAY NOVEMBER 9TH, 4:45 AM:
The alarm goes off. It's still dark outside. Anyone who knows me, can only imagine the 'joy' I felt like spreading at THAT hour. My inner voice quietly groaned, "caaaawwwfeee". My friend and previous Ironman finisher, Kyle, had already energetically bounced out of his bed. I hated him at that moment. Then several funny things happened at once: Kyle's cell phone alarm went off...the condo phone rings with a wakeup call...and then we hear a knock at the door. Huh? Do we get in-person wake-up calls at this condo? I wonder. I open the door to find my brother and sister standing there, looking like Japanese tourists, cameras around their necks, and obviously already WAY over-caffeinated, standing there grinning sheepishly. I quietly shut the door in their face. And then I laughed. My goofy New York brother had forgotten to turn his watch back..plus the hotel clocks were still on Daylight Savings time....yada, yada...they had accidently gotten up an hour early! Now, all of my friends who consider ME a spaz? Well, I didn't get that randomly - it runs in the family. Next thing you know, they are in my condo kitchen like pavorazzi, clicking pictures of us eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Kyle, standing in his underwear with 1/2 a bagel in his mouth, was stunned, but cracking up. We promptly dismissed them. Too funny!
THE 2.4 MILE SWIM:
Okay, so as all my friends know, this was my biggest fear. Swimming was not a natural skill for me to learn. I spent two seasons trying to learn to exhale underwater, make myself glide effortlessly through the pool, and become more 'fishlike', as suggested in all the videos. To this day, I still struggle with my breathing, am fearful of drowning, and my stroke at times, looks more like that of a sea turtle. Bottom line - the swim is the most stressful section for me. And the Ironman organization totally feeds into the whole intensity...playing 'Chariots of Fire' type music on the beach....everyone hugging their athlete as if they were going off to combat ( a fairly accurate description of the swim actually ). I looked at my watch at 6:55 AM. My hands were shaking. Oh crap! What had I gotten myself into?! There was no turning back now. I took a deep breath, and then the canon went off. I waited two whole minutes on the beach ( good tip from my buddy Brian! ) before I headed for the water. But so did 1000 other swimmers! It was truly one of the craziest thing I have ever experienced - 2000 people surging like minnows into the water. I got slugged in the face a couple times, swam over, my legs grabbed and almost lost my goggles. But I found a line eventually. And surprisingly, I made the first lap in about 45 minutes. However, the waves got rougher by the second loop. So although the crowd of swimmers had thinned out, the swells became so large that people were drifting off the sides of them and then overcorrecting. I think I swam an extra 500 yards that lap! But I was out on the beach in 1 hour 47 minutes. Two minutes off my training goal! I was chuffed.
THE 112 MILE BIKE:
This section actually started off great! I wasn't dizzy from the swim, it was slightly overcast so not too hot...the wind was at my back..and I got the first 20 miles done in a little under an hour. But then I turned the corner and reality set in: a 30 mile stretch of 15-20 mph headwind. Yuk! My speed dropped immediately. All I could do was hunker down over my aerobars...and suck it up. Patience training - it comes in many forms. But after about 30 miles, I turned a second corner and received a little 'grace' ..for only about 30 minutes. That's when the rain came - one hour of downpour, right in the middle of the race. Great. But thankfully, it was warm. And I actually did fairly well, despite of the unpredicted weather. But my average speed was dropping again. My feet, which were now soaked, had caused my cycling shoes to stretch. So I had more movement in my shoes than desired. Plus, my socks were now totally drenched. And I hadn't thought to bring along a backup dry pair. Unknown to me at the time, this oversight would be crucial to my race a few hours later. But what could I do right then? Nothing, nothing but suck it up again. So I hung in there and decided assuredly....that 112 miles on a bike? Is about 15 miles TOO LONG! My butt was killing me! And my shoulders were now feeling the ache from the swim. But I got it done and rolled into transition, ignoring the nagging voice in my head that kept repeatedly asking, "woman! Are you friggin nuts??". I have come to the conclusion - that I quite possibly may be.
THE 26.2 MILE RUN:
So.......did my nice, clean, dry running clothes STAY dry? Of course not! There would have been no challenge in that! Here is where I would learn my second lesson of the day. The first had been to always have a dry pair of socks in a ziplock bag with you on the bike segment. Now I learned that even if you put your clothes in a plastic cinch-sac? Make sure the cinched opening...is folded over and facing DOWNward! Which of course, I hadn't done. So everything was soaked from the downpour, even my new, clean, white running socks. Still, I transitioned pretty well, surprised that my legs still felt pretty good, and grateful to get off that bike that felt like it had become part of my anatomy. I blazed out of the run, going at a good pace. I had eaten well on the bike, taken my salt tablets and was 'on' with my fueling. But then at mile 6, I felt what I thought was a wrinkle in my sock. I stopped, looked - nothing. Then that 'wrinkle' quickly felt like a 'rock' ..and the 'rock' turned to a piece of 'glass'. I was in serious pain. The wet ride on the bike, with my feet soaked and moving too much in my shoes for an hour or more, had left me with huge puffy blisters across the balls of both feet, and with the entire surface of both heels swollen, white and maserated. I was to find out later that Kyle had the same experience. I did my best to walk, run, walk, run....walking on the sides of my feet as best I could. But after 13 miles, I was baked. It was like stepping on broken glass! I ended up completely walking the last 9 miles, which was very frustrating as my energy level was fairly good and my quads were still working. Oh well. Sh*t happens, was all I could tell myself. But somewhere in those last, dark frustrating miles, I began to understand what Ironman is really all about. And I met some really amazing people along the way - people from all over the world who were struggling just like me, but for different reasons. We all cursed when the wind and rain came again ( can you believe we got soaked TWICE in the same race?? ) ...encouraged each other to keep going, and made an otherwise rough ending to a long day, a bit more 'fun'.
MY SUPPORT:
You have no idea how many times I thought about all my friends back in Boise when I was walking alone in the dark that night. It truly helped. I thought about all the people who had biked with me in training to help me get my long mileage days in, and all my 'swim coaches' who suffered with me in "Duck Poop Pond", and provided so many good tips that helped me that day in that crazy swim. And I thought about all those Hash House Harrier runs, where I'd run 10 miles ahead of time, and then people would pace me and push me to do tempo segments. Those guys kept me running, even when I was dog-tired.
My brother and sister - they were at every transition, yelling and screaming as if I was Natasha Baadman, winning the whole thing! I felt like a million bucks even when it hurt so bad that I wanted to amputate my feet. They are two of the most incredible people I know, and I hope some of you get to meet them someday.
I saw Kyle at one point in the run turnaround, giving me an encouraging handclap. He was so positive all week, keeping me grounded, like it was just all in a days work.
Then there were the strangers I met: a guy from Los Angeles who was much faster than I on the bike, but rode with me at MY pace for an hour just to chat and fight the boredom. He, like me, was looking for more from the race, than just a finish time.
And I remember the guy from Guatamala who I 'leap-frogged' with for seven miles on the run, unknowingly helping his pace. He finished in 12 hours, but waited for me (3.5 hours longer) until I finished and ran with me for the last mile. Wow. That was cool.
And I remember the girl from Ottowa, who took the time to get my name on the bike, and cheered me on when she had a flat tire and I had to ride past her. And again, later, she was still cheering for me by name as she was wretching on the side of the road on the run. That time I stopped with her for a moment....before I had to pass her again. She was amazing.
So....there it is. One helluva long days workout. And truly an incredible experience. I cannot fully describe the sensation of running down that finish line chute with the stands crammed full of people cheering as if they knew me personally. It was overwhelming. But a sensation I will not soon forget. So........with that in mind...I can conclude by saying that :
I wasn't first........
But I wasn't last.......
and....
15 hours and 35 minutes after I dove into that ocean......
they said I was an Ironwoman.
And yes....
I bet I'll be doing it again someday.
Cheers!
Jen.