Ironman Texas 2012

Why an Ironman?

 

I think that's where this race report needs to begin.  I wish I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question.  Most of the time I just shrugged with the usual, "I don't know" and other times I responded with, "why not?".  The truth is, in November 2010, I completed my first marathon at the R&R San Antonio.  I decided it would be cool to keep my running base and train for a half Iron.  In April 2011 I completed my first half Ironman at the Galveston 70.3.  When I was done, I remember being quite sure that I would never attempt a full Ironman.  In fact it seemed unreal, unreachable, and completely ridiculous.  But something happened to me.  I couldn't go for a swim, bike, or run without it constantly being on my mind.  Could I do it?  Was it possible?  It just wouldn't go away.  It kept working on me until I finally went to my husband and asked him what he thought.  I'm not fast at anything I do.  I have to work hard to maintain a 2 min. average on a swim, a 16.0 on a bike ride, and a 9:50 on the run.  I don't have strength and speed but I have will and heart.  Would that be enough?  Before I knew it, we were looking at venues.  We had it narrowed down to IM Texas or IM Florida.  There were two factors in the final determination.  I didn't want to deal with the logistics of flying with my bike and all my gear and I had heard that the swim in Florida could get quite choppy.  Done!  IMTX it is then!  My goal was set for 16:59:59.  This would be a completely new animal to me. 

Swim 2.4 miles, Bike 112 miles, Run 26.2 miles....people think that's what it's all about and they say, "Damn, that's crazy!"  That's not even close to crazy.  For me, it wasn't all about that day.  It was everything it took to get to that day.  Getting to that starting line was the hardest thing I have ever done.  Training for such an event takes about a year for most.  My actual training plan was only 20 weeks due to the fact that I started with a strong half iron base.  A usual training day for me was waking up at 3am to get my first work out in, getting to work by 6:30am, working 10 hours until 4:30pm, doing a second work out after work, kids homework, laundry, keeping the house up, and in bed by 9pm so I could get at least 6 hours of sleep.  Amazingly, my body did adjust.  It took everyone in the family to be on the same page.  We established a pretty good routine and it worked.  It wasn't all about me.  My kids, husband, and parents lived IM for 20 weeks.  I could not have done it without them. 

I was amazed at how fast time flew by.  I was also amazed at how calm I was as the last few weeks crept up.  At the beginning of my taper I got the stomach flu.  A week later I came down with bronchitis.  This was so touchy as most allergy/cold meds pull water from your system and can cause terrible muscle cramps.  Not something I needed going into a very long and hot day of racing.  All I could think of was how hard I worked to get to that point.  Quitting was not an option!  The calm came from my realization that this was not a variable I could control.  I put in the training and there was nothing more I could do except pray and trust my training. 

My husband, daughter, and I traveled to the event on Wednesday night, right after work.  Thursday morning I woke up to see that literally the whole town was involved in this huge event.  I was calm at check in.  The volunteers were so much more knowledgeable about the event than at other triathlons I had been to.  They were really polite and took such great care of the athletes.   I'm pretty organized and thrive on structure.  Ironman was making some serious points with me.  A lady handed me a really nice transition backpack.  It was embroidered with IMTX 2012.  I just stood and stared at her.  She had to say, "Honey, this is your bag, everything you need is inside.  Double check it before you leave."  Holy crap...this thing is money, it was my very first piece of IM gear, and it was free!  OK, it wasn't free.  I dropped some serious money to just enter this crazy race.  But it was soooo cool!

Thursday night, they had a very nice dinner for athletes. I quickly decided that being around a bunch of high stress people was not where I needed to be. We ended up eating on our own and returning for the mandatory athlete meeting. Here is where my stressed ramped up. I knew this swim was not going to be wet suit legal. I trained in OW without one. Suddenly, the official announces that you can wear a wet suit. If you choose to do so, you will start 10 min. behind, you won't be eligible for Kona, you will still get the full 2:20 to do the swim, but you will have to make up your 10 min time deficit on the bike. Decisions, decisions! This threw me into a tail spin. I spent time on the phone with a friend and texted another. I still couldn't decide what to do!

Friday morning I swam for 20 minutes, rode my bike one last time, and checked it in to T1.  I dropped my bike and run bags off and headed back to the hotel.  There was no standing around for me.

 
Saturday morning was a no brainer.  I woke up and went to the event.  I had nothing to worry about.  They had all my stuff.  It was time to walk to the swim start and my OCD kicked in.  I told my husband that I needed to look at my bike one more time and check my bike/run bags too.  "Cristal, are you sure you want to do that?  Everything is fine and people are walking to the swim start now.?"  Back into T1 I went.  My bike was fine.  My hands began to shake as I untied my bike/run bags.  What the heck was I looking for?  I was prepared!  I was ready!



At the swim start the stress was so thick you could cut it with a knife.  I kept thinking, "Just let me swim, I can do this!"  I turned my special needs bags in and at the last minute put my wet suit on.  The best thing I heard was the announcer say, "If you choose to wear a wet suit, YOU WILL STILL BE AN IRONMAN AT THE END OF THE DAY!" 



Into the water we went.  Athletes began to talk and move around in the water based on how they planned to start.  I was surrounded by men.  I saw very few pink caps.  People were already hanging on to the canoes in the water.  I felt unusually calm.  The cannon sounded and all crazy broke out.  People went out so hard.  It wasn't long before some were hanging onto boats and even crawling out of the water.  This was a very close contact swim.  Wearing my wet suit was the best decision ever.  At one point I could feel someone grab me and pull me backwards as they swam over me.  Every time I was pushed under, I popped right back up and was able to maintain good swimming form.  After about 500 meters, I was able to relax.  I felt like I found a hole to swim in.  We caught up to some of the non-wetsuit swimmers that were struggling.  That was another moment of crazy as people were swimming sideways.  We made our final turn into the canal and it was like putting a bunch of live sardines into a can and slamming the lid shut.  I was hit in the back of the head several times, kicked in the face twice, and the fight for the swim finish was on!  The best part of the swim was when I was in the canal.  As I raised to breathe, I somehow caught a glimpse of my daughter on shore.  I smiled and waved mid stroke.  She alerted Scott and that gave me everything I needed to get to the end of the swim.  How did I manage to see her through all that chaos and out of all those people?




T1 was smooth.  Again, the volunteers were amazing.  I grabbed my bike bag and headed to the tent.  A volunteer showed up out of nowhere and calmly started handing me stuff out of my bag.  She sprayed my entire body with sunblock and away I went.  I was so thankful for her!

The bike was amazing!  The Woodlands are so beautiful!  I remember thinking, "TRG would tear this course up!"  I hydrated, I went pee twice, I ate, and I rode smart.  There were times I felt I had more to give, but I knew my bike would determine my run.  I had a low moment between 60-80 miles but was able to get beyond it.  I was amazed at how much traffic was stopped for us to pass.  There were hundreds of cars parked on the street and people even got out of their cars to cheer us on.  It was HOT!  I had just 10 miles to go.  I started taking on more fluid and additional fuel so I would be ready for my run.  I was at the point where I wanted off my bike in a bad way.  I drank but could not swallow.  I ate, but it wouldn't go down.  I spit my fuel out and thought, "What's going on?"  I did a quick assessment of my body.  Was it heat, too much fluid, too many carbs?  I wasn't bonking because I know what that feels like.  In the last couple miles of the bike I began to dry heave.  I knew if I could just get off the bike, I'd be fine. 



T2 was easy.  I saw quite a bit of vomit on the ground and chose my transition place carefully.  I felt so good to be off the bike!  By coming in early on the swim and bike, I was relaxed in knowing that I had time in the bank for the run.



The start of the run was in the direct sun.  I scooted along and gave my legs time to get into a  rhythm.  Suddenly at .5 miles, the bottom fell out.  I began to dry heave again.  My breathing was fast and I could feel my anxiety increasing.  I felt like crap!  If I could not get myself to calm down, I knew I was in for a good asthma attack.  I walked.  I was not getting better.  I could hear myself breathing so hard.  I grabbed the guardrail of an overpass in fear that I was about to go down.  My thinking was that if I fell, medical would call my race and it would all be over.  If I stayed upright, I was still in the game.  Don't cry Cristal!  Dig deep!  I couldn't have been on the guardrail for more than 20 seconds or so.  I felt an arm hook my elbow and a man quietly said, "Walk with me."  He literally pulled me away from the guardrail.  I began walking with him and I listened to him talk about how hot it was.  He said he was having a bad day.  I was one step behind him because I couldn't even keep up with his walking pace.  I could see he was wearing a long sleeve white sun shirt, black tri shorts, and the number 60 on the back of his left leg.  Once I was able to talk without sounding like a fool, I told him I was dry heaving and could not swallow.  He said, "When you come to the next aid station, you are going to squeeze an orange, eat two potato chips, drink Coke, and rinse your mouth with water."  I thought this guy was crazy.  I asked him if he had done IM before.  Turns out he was an 8 time finisher, all under 12 hours except his last which was just under 14 and today he was just simply having a bad day.  We did the math together and he convinced me that if I kept his pace, we could walk the entire marathon and get to mile 17 before the cut off.  So we walked.  We finally hit the shade and there was a descent.  I still felt like crap, but I thought I could run.  I told the man that I was going to try to run/walk the descent.  He said, "Great, I'll see you at the next aid station."  I got to the next aid station where I did exactly what he told me to do.  I began to feel better and better.  I hit every aid station and maintained the orange, potato chip, Coke, and rinse routine.  I never saw this man again.  I never saw his bib number and I never saw his face, but I can still hear his voice in my head. 

I went into the last lap with a hug from my girl.  How all those miles ticked by, I still don't know.  I remember thinking, "How am I doing this?  How am I still running?  I can't believe I'm running a marathon on potato chips and Coke!"  This was the hardest part of the race for me to process.  The brain has a funny way of eliminating pain.
 

 

The sun had set and the spectators either went home or went to the finish line.  I could hear the thump of the music and the roar of the crowd.  I knew I was getting close.  Yes!  I saw the woman that yelled, "Finishers to your right, runners to your left!"  I ran down a huge chute of people that were reaching out to high five me.  The energy was overwhelming.  Suddenly an official was standing at the bottom of the chute, he congratulated me and then told me to turn around the cone in the street and go up the hill to the finish.  Any other time I would have said, "Hill?  Come on!"  But you tend to dig deep when people are yelling at you.  My legs were numb and my focus was on trying not to trip.  It was dark by now, but the lights were very bright.  I crossed the finish line with my hands held high to the sound of "CRISTAL MISPLAY OF ROUND ROCK, TEXAS...YOU....ARE...AN IRONMAN!  Who can handle that without shedding a tear of joy?  A very nice lady grabbed me around my torso to support me.  She immediately asked me if I needed medical attention.  My first thought was, "Wow, she's touching my nasty, stinky, sticky, salty body!  This lady rocks!"  I told her I was good.  Someone reached over and put a medal around my neck.  She made me drink some water, stood me to the side where someone snapped my picture.  She gave me a finisher's shirt and finisher's hat which was like gold to me.  She showed me where the meeting area was and away I went to find my family and friends.  Seeing Scott and Janell made it complete.  I could only imagine how long their day was and they were with me the whole way.  Seeing my friend Troy who was yelling, "Sub 14!", was awesome.  It takes a special person to be there to meet the needs of an athlete both mentally and physically and I am thankful to have found that in my family and friends. 

 






The best part of the night was being showered and in bed before the midnight cut off.  How in the world did I ever do that?  My husband says it was the training and work.  I know I put the work in...oh how I know that for a fact.  My heart says it is a higher power who was with me every step of the way.  I have moments where I question my sanity on the run in that very low moment.  Who was that man?  Why did he care and why did he pull me off that rail and give me direction?  He was my angel.  To God be the glory for all that I am and all that I do.

The morning after