2005-05-23 - 2:58 a.m.

It's over, it's over, it's over.
I finished the half-Ironman in a whopping 9 hours and 23 minutes and change. I can't tell you what my splits were because I was too slow for the timing company to pick up, which is a bummer. I know from looking at the splits of other folks who finished near me that I spent nearly an hour in the water--probably close to about 50 minutes--from getting lost. I actually crashed into an island! I know that my bike split was about five hours; I think I averaged about 12 miles an hour, which is excruciatingly slow. I haven't done 12 miles an hour in forever. I lost my big ring halfway through the second lap, and with a huge downhill at the end of the race, I wasted a fair amount of time and energy being pissed and worried that I wouldn't be able to ever find it again. I did, eventually, but boy was that draining.
Then my back started to really really ache. I don't think I've ever been in so much back pain in my life. And I think something's happened to my right shoulder because that was in a lot of pain too.
Anyway, I crawled into the TA after 5 hours on the bike, never having felt so drained, and limped out onto the run course.
By this time I was so agonized that I didn't think I was going to make it. Fortunately, I know enough people on the course that nearly all the people who were manning the run stations were people I knew. Most important were Jim and our Sprocket at the four-mile mark. I wobbled my way in and was given a serious pep talk by Jim, who refused to even say the words, "It's okay for you to drop," even if he was thinking it. He shepherded me out of his aid station and into the trail running section, which was about three and a half miles long and which I did in forty minutes. Unbelievable, given my gimping and slow trot before. Some triathletes I met coming out of the woods said things like, "You'll never be able to run in there," and "it's just a billy goat trail," and "I walked the whole thing," which I took as an excuse to recover, but once i got in there I just couldn't help but run. It felt so good to my back to move in different ways and to be on soft ground, and the visual difference between road and trail made such a difference to my brain that for the first time I truly thought I could finish. But mostly I just thought about rocks and roots and where I was putting my next step. It was amazing. I got to the aid station in the middle of the woods, where the nice people gave me some Off! to fend off the mosquitos and gnats, and then I came out of the woods to the EMS crew and Steve Vardas and some nice policemen cheering me on and applauding the effort. I was so happy to see them, and so grateful that they were staying out there for me. I begged for ibuprofen but EMS isn't allowed to give me drugs. In a stroke of genius Steve told me that the next aid station had ibuprofen, so I limped onto that, now being followed by my own fricken motorcade with flashing lights and everything. I walked some and then I bent over and wheezed for a bit to take the pain out of my back. In one of those walking jaunts a Land Rover stopped on the other side of the road. I thought it was just a person, but it turned out to be my friend Christine, who I'm going to London with. It made all the difference to see her. I hope I didn't turn her off of triathlon. She's signed up to do the Danskin tri with me.
I finally made it to the next aid station, which was mile 8.6--only 5.2 miles to go--where he did indeed have ibuprofen. I asked if it was horrible that I was keeping the race directors out so late, and he said no, just finish, we'll be out here for three more hours yet, at which point I actually barked a laugh and told him it might take me that long to finish. Anyway, I ate four ibuprofen, trying to stop myself from chewing them to get at the medicine, and then I went on.
A nice couple stopped and asked if I was OK. (They didn't see my motorcade, I guess.) I told them I was just having some back pain, and the woman was rooting througn her purse, looking for some stuff, but I told them thanks and I had just taken some and they drove off.
In the distance I could see Jim's aid station (he was aid stations 2 and 5), and I could hear the police officers clapping for me and cheering as I came up the road, and I almost cried. Everyone was so nice and so sweet and just so happy for me, I thought I was just going to break down right then and there. Sprocket was racing down the side of the street to see me, and I know he was just going for my sweaty knees, but whatever. There were only 3.8 miles to go after that, and some friends were manning the last checkpoint, up a big stupid hill, and heck, I couldn't disappoint my motorcade, so I hitched up my shorts, straightened my jersey, and huffed up the hill and into the finish chute--
Where they'd taken down the goddamned clock.
Man, if I don't get my splits I'm going to be pissed.
Anyway, my friends were waitiing for me with big hugs and big smiles, and there were six messages on my mobile phone, and Jody and Chris and Alan were waiting for me at Ole Ole for margaritas--and boy oh boy was it a great, fantabulous, amazing day.
1.2 mile swim (i think i must have swim three miles, getting lost)
60 mile bike
13.8 mile run
I'm half an Ironman!!!

 

 

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