Ironman Louisville Run

Bang your head against the wall
You may feel light headed, but you won't crawl, no, you won't fall
You will rise above it all
You'll find what you're searching for
And you may feel light headed
You think you're gonna hit the floor
Instead you rise above it all

The whole training season there was not one song I listed to more than "Bang My Head". The lyrics were fitting.  I knew the whole song by heart. And yet during the run the only lyrics I could some up with were you might think you're dying but you won't. My brain and body were in survival mode to get through the last leg of the race.

Katie had mentally prepared me for the run best she could but as she said, there's no way to really know what it will feel like until you've done one. She was very right. She warned me how many people would be walking and early on and to not get sucked into it. I could run the whole thing. Months before the race when I was barely running due to injury I only wanted to finish the race, irrelevant of how much walking it took. Weeks before the race I knew I had a chance of running a lot of it. Katie drilled into my head that I did not have to walk at all and with hesitation, I allowed myself to believe it because I knew my brain would be the only reason I'd walk. If I couldn't convince myself to run the whole thing before the race, how would I do it in the moment?

I started the run in good spirits. I got to see family again on the start of the run. As I went past where the second loop starts, I saw my friend/coworker started his second loop and waited for him to pass me. We chatted for a few seconds about how he was hurting and overheated and I got a very sweaty pat/side hug as he passed and then there were no more distractions. It was time to actually focus on the run. My pace was on point and felt comfortable, or at least as comfortable as it can feel after racing for over 7 hours. Then I noticed the stomach pain again from the bike. I don't think it every went away I was just very distracted with transition and the commotion of starting the run.

I spent much of the run trying to figure out what was causing the stomach pain and how to fix it. I realized very early into the run that I had experienced this exact problem at NOLA 70.3 during the run. After the race I even went back to read my comments about that race to confirm it was the same pain. It's a pain I've never experienced during training but I sometimes get it during day to day life. It's normally after I'm very hungry and then I eat a bunch. When I get this pain all I can do is curl up in a ball and wait for it to pass which is normally coupled with farting or burping. It's as if the food and air gets trapped in my stomach and nothing is getting digested. If you look at my profile you can see the top of my stomach is physically bulged out and its hard. So to experience something that normally leaves me in a pathetic ball, it's natural to assume it was difficult to run through. I knew eating was going to make it worse so I held off off on that and only took small sips out of the bottle I was carrying.

The pain kept getting worse and at only mile 2 I was forced to walk because at that point I was starting to bend over to help with the pain. As soon as I stopped running I started burping a ton and that helped out a lot. I was able to get back to work and didn't have to walk again until almost 10 miles in after my bottle ran out and I needed to pee. Once again I have to comment that the weather conditions were great this day. I'd ask a volunteer to throw a cup of ice down my sports bra during aid stations (along with some weird looks) and that was about all I needed to prevent overheating. Although my stomach pain was in check during those miles, I was starting to feel the pain everywhere else. My feet were killing me, my hip was hurting, my muscles wanted to stop. I kept chugging along best I could though and was holding onto a steady pace. I'd occasionally think about form but it's evident from pictures that my tired, worn down body returned to some bad and weird habits such as chicken-wing-mid-line-crossing arms and hitch-hiker thumb and of course, heel stomping.

I knew I'd see family at the half way point and that kept me going. I wanted to look strong and happy for them. Coming back into downtown Louisville the crowds grew and that really did amp me up. My husband ran with me for a tiny  bit while I explained that I was ok but my stomach was giving me a hard time and I didn't know what to do and everything hurt which you can actually tell the story I'm telling through the photos.

 

 

 The one thing I really hated about this course is they run you right past the finish line before going out for the second loop. Not kind of close, so close you can taste of energy and hear the announcer and your body wants nothing more than to go straight instead of turn right to do the run all over again. I passed special needs, got a second bottle but didn't have a need for the extra chews as I was still under eating due to my stomach. Then it was back out on the lonely road.

I was still battling the stomach pain. After I ran out of my first bottle I had some small cups of water mixed with gatoraid and I think that made my stomach worse so I tried straight water and that didn't do me any favors either so I tried coke. That seems to be the best  choice. Once I had my second bottle I kept taking sips out of that but my stomach wasn't having it. I couldn't stop myself from drinking it though. I knew I had to throw it away to stop but it was like this security blanket I couldn't let go. Eventually I forced myself to throw it away around mile 16 and I decided to stick to coke for rest of the run. This allowed me to walk during aid stations to get that down but I was using that as an excuse to walk too much. At first it was walk until I drank and then run again. Then it was walk the whole length of the aid station (which are long). Then I was walking past the aid stations. Then it was walking up the hill that was close enough to flat to not even count as a hill. My stomach hurt. Everything hurt. I was so tired. I'd never experienced this level of fatigue in my life. I just wanted to be done. My mile times went from being in the 10s to 11s to 12s.  Then I had decided to go the bathroom again and I saw a 13. Then another 13.

It was at that time I knew I had a choice. The two slower miles was enough to get my stomach to settle down. I was doing lots of math at this point. I heard someone say what time it was and I thought I could make it under 13 hours. I also kept calculating how fast rest of my miles would have to be to run the marathon under 5 hours. I went in with no goals and no expectations but at that point I allowed myself to make a goal. Under 13 total, under 5 for the marathon. I looked down at my hand which still clearly said "For Mom" and I said ok Mom, let's finish this.

I had 4 miles left. I pulled my visor down so I only could see a little pavement but then I was convinced I was going to run into something during a small out and back. Then I started counting my steps over and over again. 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4. I tried remembering the lyrics to that damn song but for the life of my I couldn't come up with them. I thought about everyone who was hitting refresh on the results page and all the people who had supported me on this long journey. I thought about my mom. I still walked a few times but less and for short times. I was able to pull my times back into the 11s even with the walking. As Katie said, it felt like I was running a 10K even though I wasn't moving fast. I stuck to only coke during those miles and was pissed off whenever the aid stations were out which happened often. I was convinced I was losing a toenail but said oh well, that will be fun to look at afterwards (turned out to be a giant blister wrapped all around the toenail). But despite everything really really really hurting, I was happy during those miles. It had been a long day and I was almost done. Almost done with my first Ironman. I was about to become an Ironman. I would only get to experience that once and I wanted to enjoy each of those last moments.

 

The finish line happened all too fast. I remember running harder. I remember being behind a guy who slowed to grabbed a big flag and thinking no you will NOT be in my way while I cross the finish line, this is my time! and passing him. I sort of heard them say I was an Ironman. I do remember being overwhelmingly filled with joy. A volunteer started taking care of me as soon as I crossed the line. She handed me a thermal silver blanket and I was too tired to argue that I was warm and didn't need one. I got shuffled down the long chute, took some pictures and found my family. Luckily I was not the only one tearing up and it made me even more happy to see the acknowledgment on their faces of what I had just done. I am an Ironman.

 26.2 mile run - 4:53:52

Overall Ironman - 12:46:03, 26/75 AG

There is no doubt that the road to becoming an Ironman can be very lonely at times and it is an individual sport. That does not take away the fact that it would not have been possible without the people in my life. Now I'll warn you I'm going into my Emmy award winning speech so most of you can click away. I'd like to thank...
All my friends and family that have supported me along the way. For many, many months you had to put up with me, my training, and my overall lifestyle. Many nights of not going out, saying no to a drink, having to eat dinner early so I could get to bed early to wake up early to train, training while on vacations, always bringing my bike with me when I traveled, being a particular eater, being exhausted all the time and therefore not a lot of fun. The list goes on and on and all of you put up with my ridiculous hobby and I thank you so much for that. 
Big thanks and shoot out to my spectator/sherpa crew at this race! You guys were awesome and having you with me on that day made it extra special. Knowing I'd see you throughout the day gave me something to look forward to.

 Coach Katie... you got me to the starting line not only in one piece, but very prepared to tackle the day. This day would not have been successful without your guidance. I've made huge strides since I've started working with you and I continue to grow as an athlete thanks to you. 
My husband. There are not enough words to thank you for your support and love. You allow me to pursue my hobby and dreams and with full support. You put up with more than anyone else and never complain. I am very lucky to have someone who loves me enough to put  up with all of this and I love you so much for that. 
Thank you everyone!!!

Ironman Louisville Bike

Starting out on the bike, I knew I had this. I felt good, I felt confident. This is where I've made the most progress and riding is now my strongest part of the race. I also went out with zero exceptions on time. I gave rough estimates to family so they would have an idea of when to see me but that was as far so my thoughts of time went. I saw family heading out of transition and knew I'd see them soon in La Grange.

The first 11 miles of the course were pretty flat. I knew I'd have to hold myself back as it would be easy to go out too hard and pay for it later. I had my power range and I did a fairly good job staying in it. I mostly spent those first flat miles settling in, drinking a lot, eating a bar, finding my groove and letting certain body parts go a little numb. It was around 50F when I started and I was under dressed given how I'd normally dress in that weather. The numbness didn't bother me though, I rarely thought about it. Then it was time for the first climb following by rolling hills. Everyone referred to the course as having "relentless rollers". After driving and riding part of the course on Friday, I knew that was an accurate statement. Having seen the course ahead of time made me feel more comfortable on the course. I knew what to expect.

At this point my plan was to start riding a little harder but still nothing crazy. I stayed in my zone during most of the ride. I didn't let other people effect me, even when it was frustrating. The whole ride I would get in a rhythm with one or two other guys where we would keep passing each other back and forth. They would pass me on the uphill when they hammered up and I stayed in control as to not burn up  my legs. I'd pass them on the downhill while they were coasting and I was still applying power to the pedals. I didn't let it bother me and I even joked as I'd pass them that we would keep doing this over and over again.

Unfortunately it only took a few miles in until the chaffing started (some people might want to skip this paragraph). An unhealed saddle sore started hurting at first and then it got worse and worse. I spent many, many, many miles thinking way too much about that particular pain. My legs felt fine. At the time my stomach felt fine. I kept telling myself that I just had to made it to special needs and I could apply more chamois cream. There was only one thing that provided some relief and this is going to sound gross and the opposite of what I at least expected. I am able to pee on the bike as long as I stop pedaling. Lots of downhill makes that easy. For some reason peeing myself made it feel better for at least a few miles. Therefore, I peed on the bike multiple times during the ride even when I didn't have a very full bladder. The only true relief I had though (other than being done with the ride) was finally reaching special needs. It was my savior in a plastic baggy. The male volunteer helping another female who was applied  cream as well told her that was the one thing he wouldn't help with. I joked "what that's not in your job responsibilities". Despite the negatives, I was still enjoying myself and having fun.

As planned, family was in La Grange and I was very excited to see them. I made sure to smile in hopes they would translate that I was doing great and riding happy. I knew I wouldn't see them again for many hours near transition so I soaked up that energy and the cheers from the crowd and on I went on my merry way.

Special needs was 60 miles into the ride. I finished three out of four of the bottles on my bike in a little over 2 hours. I was very thirsty at the beginning of the ride from the swim.  That meant I had one bottle to last over an hour unless I wanted to grab something from an aid station which I did not for whatever stupid reason. It surprisingly wasn't difficult to make that last bottle last though. At special needs I loaded my bike up with 5 more bottles and figured I would need most of that (which I did not). I was eating my normal bars on my normal schedule. However, sometime after special needs I noticed my stomach felt a little off. Nothing horrible, just not great. I started breaking out the Pepto tabs and threw a few back. As the miles went on I noticed it more and more. I made sure to sit up during any uphill as being in an aero position was making it worse. I wasn't throwing up or anything and I knew I still needed to eat and drink so I stuck with it. The low temperatures meant I luckily didn't need to drink a ton and after my super thirty first 2 hours, I was back to drinking about a bottle an hour.

During the second loop I could feel the people around me running low on energy. It was something I was expecting on the run but it was palpable how people were starting to feel run down and were slowing down. I tried to not let that negative energy roll onto me and instead use it as a reason to feel extra strong because my legs really did feel fine. But my brain and stomach were getting the better of me. On the 20 miles back to town I could feel myself slipping away. My stomach really was bothering me but I felt like I was using that as an excuse to go a little easier. My legs could have gone harder. I know they could have. Would that have made my stomach worse? I don't know, maybe. Maybe slowing down a bit was a good idea. I really don't know. Since it was mostly downhill or flat those miles, my average speed was increasing. I was still passing people and no one was passing me at this point. But for some reason I sat behind (legally, not drafting) this 34 year old guy in a black and white kit for waaaay too many miles. It kept me at the very bottom of my power range when I knew I should have been riding at the very top and even pushing beyond it. I had no desire to pass him though. I let him dictate the pace. The fatigue of riding over 100 miles had caught up with me and my negative brain had won at that point.

For some reason in the last 2-3 miles I decided to be that ass hole that waits until the last minute to pass to get in front. I'm not sure why. It suddenly hit me that this was ridiculous and I knew I could do better and at the very least I wanted to finish the ride strong.

112 mile ride - 6:21:53, AG rank 25/75

(Extra note - Sometime during this past week the results page removed my T1 time and added it to my bike time for a 6:31:56 now.)

Although it looks like I'm peeing on my bike like a dog, I assure that I was done before this point.

I saw family right before I had to dismount and they were not expecting me that soon so I caught them a bit by surprise. During this transition I had no desire to move quickly. Like the majority of people at this point, I was walking, not running, through transition. I happily handed my bike to a volunteer (I don't want to see that saddle for a while) and slowly made my way to the tent. Once again I didn't rush to make sure I didn't miss anything but I forgot to get sunscreen sprayed on the way out. After I left the tent I decided it was time to get into the running gear so I finally got to running to  complete what felt like a half mile of transition and out onto the running course... seriously where is the run start line!

T2 - 7:22

The ride was by far the best part of the course and the best part of my day. It was a very pretty ride with some nice shady sections from the trees starting to turn color. I enjoy hills, rollers, climbing, descending so the course worked well for me. The weather was PERFECT! I cannot stress enough how much that helped me that day. The ride was in the 50s and 60s, mostly sunny and not very windy. Despite the stomach issues, chaffing issues (to be expected) and marginal last 20 miles, I am very happy with this ride. I thought I had this ride in my pocket going into it and for the most part I was right. I moved up 13 placed in my AG. Once again I did better than I excepted I would. Then again, it's very easy to do better when you go in with no real expectations.... most definitely the best way to race! My main takeaway from the ride was that I can ride stronger, I know I can. I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong with my stomach and I spent a lot of the run trying to figure that out.

Ironman Louisville Pre-Race & Swim

Race travels began Thursday morning after waiting for furniture to be delivered. My husband was limited on vacation time so I traveled by myself. In all honestly being by myself was probably a good thing. I could clear my mind, do what I needed to do, and not feel guilty for sitting in the hotel for hours while in a new town. So off I went by myself and it took me all of 2 minutes into the drive when I remembered it was my mom’s birthday and started crying. Then I put some podcasts on to distract my mind from everything, took literally 5 stops for a 7-hour drive to stretch out, enjoyed the pretty views of driving through the mountains and finally made it to Louisville. I stayed at the Seelbach which is a very nice old hotel at the corner of 4^th Street where the finish line would be. Great hotel and great location!

 
Thursday evening through Saturday morning completely revolved around preparing for the race. Training volume was low with some harder efforts to wake up all my muscles. I didn’t want to risk getting sick from the river water so I did my swims at a YMCA I could walk to. On Friday I drove out to the loop section of the bike course so I could see and ride some of the course. This made me feel much better knowing what to expect. I had cooked and packed all my meals for Friday to race morning and unfortunately had to eat everything cold as there was no microwave. I finally get to eat a bunch of yummy white food and it’s all cold! Made it a lot less enjoyable. I did check-in on Friday and wow that’s a lot more involved than a half. I stopped by the Pro Bike Express truck to say hi to Wes and pick up a package he had from Katie. Then it was back to the hotel to start laying out all my bags and watch random movies to keep myself distracted and off my feet.

Saturday I did a short swim and then a run that I was completely under dressed for as it was chilly and very windy. The temperatures were about the same as they would be race morning and I prayed the wind would die down by the next day. My husband, his parents and sister all showed up later in the morning. They picked a restaurant on 4th Street and I held off on eating until I got back to the room. Afterwards it was time to drop off my bags and say goodbye to my bike (I love you, please be safe and be good tomorrow). The transition area was about a mile from the hotel so I did a lot more walking than I wanted leading up to the race and therefore wanted to spent as much time off my feet as possible.

I sent my family off to drink at the hotel bar which was one of the bars on the Bourbon Trail while I finished getting things ready for race day and relaxed in a bit. I chatted with Katie one last time and assured her I was doing fine while she tried to prepare me for what to expect on the run. I hung out with family while they ate dinner and then back to my room to drink my Pre Load and get ready for bed. They dropped by the room to show me shirts they had made for themselves which were awesome and wrote some inspirations stuff on my bike bottles. Then there was nothing left to do but get one last night of sleep with the assistance of half a sleeping pill.

 

Louisville has a very unique swim start where you get in a line and that’s the order you start the race. Some people get there stupidly early so they can be one of the first in the water. After a LOT of debating to decided I cared more about getting extra sleep then I did about getting in the water 20 minutes sooner. So I woke up at 5AM which seems very late but the first person in the water wasn’t until 7:30. So at 5AM my husband’s alarm went off and mine didn’t…. oh shit I set it for 5PM! Good thing I always ask him to set his as a backup.

There is one thought I've consistently had over the last year of training for this Ironman... Mom. She has been with me, in my thoughts, through the bad swims and the gorgeous rides, every step of the way.  So through tears (because I had lost all control of emotions at this point) I wrote on my hand "For Mom". I snapped a picture, sent it to my family telling them that I knew she would be with me and then tried to pull myself together. After doing normal race morning things we started the mile walk to transition to load my bike up and drop my special needs bags off. Then I got to join the line which unfortunately was almost at the transition area at this point and the swim start was almost a mile away. I settled into line, sat down for a lot of it, listened to "Bang My Head" a few times, tried to stay calm, all the meanwhile slightly shaking because it was around 50F.

We were told the national anthem was played at one point but we couldn't hear it. We were told the first person was in the water and the line very slowly started moving. I could tell I was getting closer when the pavement had more and more pee stains from people peeing in their wetsuits. It wasn't long until the entire pavement was dark and you could smell the urine. I held onto a crappy pair of flip flops as long as I could until I was forced to trash them. My husband parted ways to join his family and then I was alone staring at the nasty water I would soon jump into. As I walked down the dock I finally decide it was time to join in on the fun and release my bladder which had been making me bouncy for the last 20 minutes. Then before I knew it I was over the timing mat and jumping into the water and I don't think it really hit me that I was starting my first Ironman until a few minutes into swimming.

 

The most memorable thing about the swim is unfortunately the water. I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of racing in crystal clear water but this was by far the worst I've ever experienced. The Ohio River is NASTY! I couldn't see my hands, I couldn't even see my arms. I could sort of see my shoulder. It made drafting difficult because the only way you knew if someone was around you was while sighting. Otherwise you were just suddenly on top of someone without any warning. Luckily I didn't experience any of the aggression you often hear about during an Ironman. I suppose that's the one benefit of not doing a mass wave start. There was some of the usual grabbing of ankle and getting whacked with a side swinger arm but nothing bad. I wish I could say I didn't get any water in my mouth  but I know I swallowed a little. Shit happens. 

The swim for the most part was uneventful. The first third was swimming upstream but in between the main land and a small strip of land so there was no current other than maybe 300m once you passed the land until the turn buoy. The last 2/3 was downstream although I couldn't feel a current. I swam at a comfortable effort the whole time. Not so easy that it felt like my sluggishly slow pool swim warm ups but easy enough that I would feel fresh afterwards. The swim just felt.... long. But the whole time I was thinking "holy shit I'm swimming an Ironman! focus on your hands. holy shit this is really happening! enjoy this! why does my back feel like it's arching so much. ENJOY THIS!" And I really was enjoying this. I was smiling on the inside (vs actually smiling and swallowing nasty water). I spent a lot of time doing math once I realized the buoys were numbered. I kept guessing if there were 18 or 19 or 20 buoys and what percentage of the swim that meant I had finished. I could finally see people and hear the crowds and before I knew it I was done with the first part of my first Ironman and wobbling up the steps. This was the first race I didn't wear a watch so I didn't know my official time until after the race. I'm very happy with the time. Recon it was mostly downstream and wet suit legal so it was faster for everyone. Nevertheless, I'm happy.

2.4 mile Swim - 1:12:53, AG 37/75

Transition in an Ironman is so different from shorter races. The main take away for me is that the volunteers are AMAZING! Just short of helping put on chamois cream, they will do anything to help you out. She was putting on my socks and shoes while I was half kicking her while struggling to get my rolled up shirt down and then helped me with my epic struggle to get the borrows zip up on (thanks Katie). I didn't rush in transition because I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything. This was a good first run at an Ironman transition and I have a better idea for all my bags what I really need to pack and things I don't need to bother with in the future.

T1 - 10:04

"Good" race?

What makes a “good” race? Is it a PR? Is it winning your age group? Is it learning something about yourself? Is it overcoming obstacles? Is it having support from family and friends? At the end of the day is there just one thing that makes you look back at a race and not be able to wipe the smirk off your face or is it a combination of things?

I’m at an awesome point in my racing and training journey. When you first start out you are at the bottom and you can only go up. This is the time when it’s easy to get PR after PR from doing consistent work. At some point though I know that will stop. I’ll have to really fight for a PR. That might be in 4 year, it might be in 20 years. I don’t know. And I don’t want to know when I’ll reach my peak. It’s exciting to think how much I can still improve. When that day comes when the PRs start to become lesser and fewer, does that mean I’m no longer having “good” races? No. When it comes down to it, PRs are awesome, there’s no getting around that. But there’s more to a good race than that.

If I have something to smile about at the end of the race (not the second I cross the line when I feel like I’m going to pass out, a bit later), then to me, that’s a good race. In the end it doesn’t really matter what the clock says. It’s just a number and I’m not a pro, it’s my hobby. I love training and I love racing. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it because it would be an epic waste of my and everyone else’s time (not to mention money). Sure I have little sparkly dreams of qualifying but that’s not what drives me (mostly because it will probably never happen).

I had written this back in April going into NOLA 70.3 and it somehow got lost in my blog post world. “As people keep wishing me good luck and telling me I’ll do great I feel the need to tell them I’ve barely been running due to injury as if I need to explain my running time that hasn’t even happened yet. People tend to assume I’m “fast” because of how much I train. I don’t consider myself fast at all, I’m finally at the point where I would even call myself average. There is obviously a whole lot of mental stuff that I could dig out of that statement but let’s not go there now. The point is I felt the need to make a statement to these people to lower their expectation of my times. Why? They don’t really care how fast I go and if they are judging me for my time, I really don’t care. We are all here for our own journey. I work for each and every minute I gain out there. I fight hard for it. The people faster than me might have put in more work or maybe they were genetically gifted. The slower people might have trained less or maybe not. In the end, who cares? I don’t do any of this for someone else, or to show off or to prove something to someone. I do it for me.”

Although I still believe in the second part of that, it makes me sad to read the first part. I remember always judging myself, my times, my progress. I knew it was a problem and yet I couldn’t change my thinking. I’m not sure what has changed over the last several months, and it might sound silly, but training for an Ironman gives you a lot of perspective. Not just in the sport, but in life. I’m not hard on myself like I was before. I’ve learned to accept the bad workouts and be happy about the good ones. I still have work to do mentally but I’m happy to know that I don’t beat myself down all the time now.

Sunday I’m going out with zero expectations. I’ve learned I do best when I think that way and I truly don’t know what to expect anyway. I want to have fun and put in a strong effort. That’s all I can ask for from racing. At the end of the day we’ll see what that looks like to me and if I consider it a “good” race. My only goal is to finish. Honestly. Any times I mention are simply so I can give family estimates of when to see me and plan out how much nutrition and bottles to pack. And even if I have a bad race and barely cross the finish line before the cut off, it only gives me an easy opportunity to PR the next time. So as people wish me good luck and ask if I’m ready (I hate that question), I’ve very positive in my responses. My team at work was even gave me a nice send off. I’m so excited in a throw up in my mouth type of way. Although it’s hard for me to say out loud that I feel ready, my body knows it’s time. The work is done and now it’s time to unleash the beast.