Redefine Your Possible.. Chattanooga 70.3

Chattanooga Ironman 70.3

"Redefine Your Possible"

I saw this on the back of another athlete's visor around mile 4 in the first loop of the run.  I'm sure I'd seen it before, but it didn't quite click until this moment.  During my training, I didn't think I was going to be as strong as I felt in that moment. By mile 4, I had completed my swim and bike without too much trouble and was still able to run at a decent clip (considering this was following approximately 5 hours of swimming & cycling) -- even running up the hills. Most importantly, I didn't feel like dying, as I'd expected.  This is when I realized I am way more capable than I give myself credit for.  Here is a recap of this journey...

We drove from WI to TN; staying overnight in Clarksville, TN on Friday night before reaching Ironman Village in Chattanooga on Saturday.  I obsessed over the Athlete's Guide for most of the way. "6 bicycle lengths to avoid drafting penalty???"...  "I have no desire to cheat, only to survive this thing!!".. "I don't think I even know how to draft properly..."

Packet pick-up was chaotic but we met up with my amazing friend (and unofficial "coach"), Chris.  Our family was exhausted from traveling and trying to find parking in Chattanooga so we didn't stay very long at Ironman Village. During bike check, I quickly met up with Greg, a fellow Run Junkee athlete I'd been comparing training notes with on Facebook. Got some pointers before we headed to the athlete briefing.  It still hadn't really hit me yet on what I was about to attempt to do the next day.  It didn't seem quite real. 

Once we got to the hotel, I packed and repacked my gear in the following order: Morning Bag, During Race, Post-Race. And "Do I need this". We attempted to get to bed at a decent time for our early am alarm, but can you really ever be ready enough for 3:55am alarm?

I must have woken up every hour to make sure I didn't sleep through my alarm.  My goal was to not DNF in this race (as with any race) but a DNS (did not start) was unacceptable.  

Most of my gear was in the car already so all I really had to do was get dressed, drink coffee and make sure to bring my water bottles for the bike/run.  DO NOT GIVE THIS JOB TO YOUR KIDS. As I was being dropped off near the event, I learned that one of my kids did not bother to bring it with. My poor guy had to drive back to retrieve it for me.

Body marking and setting up my gear under my bike went without a hitch. I guess I didn't need much from my "Do I need this" pile after all :)  All I had to do was line up in the porta-potty line repeatedly until it was time to board the bus to the swim start. Chris and I chatted with few athletes behind us as we were waiting to board the school bus. My main concern was my lack of ows sessions as the spring in WI has been brutal; All of my training had been in the pool.

Once we got to the swim start, we got in the line. I had no idea what the line was for. I just did what they told me to do.  It was early, I was new to this and I was cold. We had a great time chatting with the 3 ladies in front of us and chatted with Greg again briefly. It definitely calmed my nerves a bit!













Closer and closer we got to the ramp and pier... next thing I know, it's time to pull my goggles down and prepare to jump in the water.  Took a few deep breaths and just dropped in the water. I hate the beginning of open water swimming, especially during a race, as I tend to "panic". The adrenaline is pumping, the water is choppy and splashing in your face as you try to breathe, limbs hitting you and you hitting them and wondering where you are on the "course" in the midst of this.  But as soon as I made the turn around, I relaxed and got into a groove. So much so that I repeatedly got off course.  While the swimmers are going straight, I'm going right. Twice, I got stopped by kayaks. Embarrassing? Haha YES.  The fact that I wasn't getting hit by other swimmers should've been a good hint that I was off-course! But the swim was amazing; I felt I could swim forever.

I could smell engine and oil and knew we were getting close to the end of the swim.  I reached my arm up to be pulled up by a volunteer, who had to have had some sore shoulders after that day! I saw my friend, Chris and yelled out a "hey!" before I headed towards transition, trying to peel my wet suit off. I didn't have to do much as they had a little station where you lay down and the volunteers peel them off in seconds.

I ran to transition, took a potty break (I can't pee in the water like the pros) and started getting my bike gear on.  I thought I did a decent job of spraying on sunscreen but my current tan lines prove me wrong.  Then I was off.  This was my biggest fear of the race. I don't feel entirely comfortable on my bike and I was so nervous about the hills.  I heard about the rolling hills and I saw plenty of them during our drive.  My goal was to make the cut offs, that's it. The first aid station was around 15 miles and I was feeling awesome.  The hills weren't too bad and the time seemed to have flown. It was like this for most of the course until about 40 miles.  My lower back was screaming and I could not get comfortable -- which was common after 3 hours.  I watched other athletes pass by, stretching out on their aero bars (I call them arm rests), gliding past me. I noticed that their legs never touch their torso while pedaling (while on aero bars), like mine do.  I watched them pedal while upright and also noticed that their legs are completely straight. Mine did not.  Nothing like realizing that your bike is not a good fit for you until the tail end of a half ironman. But better at mile 40 than mile 4.
I could not wait to get off the bike and the hearing the crowd as we got closer was pure gold. As I dismounted near transition, I saw Chris again -- and again, yelled "hey!" as I tried to run my bike to my station.  A moment that I'll never forget is a stranger yelling out to me "You got this! One more sport to go!"  One more sport to go... I was almost done.  I got this far -- what he said blew me away.  I was so ready for the run.

I changed my hat, shoes, grabbed my handheld, got my bib belt on and was off.  I was hot, tired and hungry but felt stronger than ever.  I just ran.  I jogged/walked through the water stations, just enough to grab the icy sponges (o.m.g. heaven on earth).  I ran up the hills, high-fiv

ed anyone who had their hands out and felt amazing.  Few times, I just looked up to the sky and thought "how amazing is today?"  and had to choke back tears (I was too tired to cry, breath and run at the same time). The volunteers and aid stations were incredibly supportive, as well as strangers along the course who were there to watch and cheer us on. The first lap flew by and I decided to take it easier on the 2nd lap. I only stopped to use the porta-potties and to walk up one hill but I was nervous about walking more than I needed to. You know how easy it is to fall into the walk breaks -- that continue on and you have no desire to run for the rest of the distance.

Around mile 12, I looked over to the runner next to me and we both nodded and said "almost done", "we got this".  We walked for a few minutes and I found out he flew up here from Mexico just for this race. Then we decided to kick it up for the rest of the distance -- which got a lot of cheers from the crowds, which was a jolt of energy for us.  As we got towards the chute, I told him it was great chatting and running with him for the last part and wished him good luck. Then

we sprinted towards that finish. The crowds were crazy and I couldn't help but get caught up in it and whooped right along with them -- which made them get louder.  I sprinted harder and then I heard my name as I came to the finish.  It was done. I had done this.  I finished a 70.3.  I started to break down and I tried to hide the crying (though
the photos still caught it). It was a blur as the volunteers placed a medal around my neck, handed my my finisher hat, took my bracelet off, asked if I was ok (I wasn't, that sprint caused a lot of cramping... everywhere), offered water and directed me to the food tent (no, I couldn't eat).

I was in a bit of a daze. I remember crying on the way to transition.  As I walked towards my bike, I thought "I shouldn't be living this life. By all statistics, I should be a drug addict/alcoholic/abusive or dead... but I'm LIVING."  I did everything to not break down and sob. I quickly grabbed all of my gear and started walking my bike out. I saw Chris and my family -- it was such a beautiful moment to see my loved ones after going through all of this.  I also ran into Greg and one of the ladies I'd hung out with before the swim.  After chatting and congratulating each other, we headed out.
Will I do it again?  Absolutely.  I'm not sure when or where, but I'm not done with 70.3.
My finish time was 7:07:xx ... not bad for a goal of "just" getting to the finish within the cut-off time.

Redefine your possible. I didn't think it was possible to finish this strong. To run most of the course after the swim and run. To sprint to the finish.  Take your idea of possible, toss it far, far away and you do what you have to do.