After a cannon shot, the National Anthem and a 6:50am swim start for the pros, the masses went off into the Gulf at 7am sharp. Certainly a big scrum of wetsuited bodies at the start, but it seemed to spread out. The 2.4-mile swim course consisted of two counterclockwise rectangular “loops,” separated by a brief “walk” (wading really) in the shallow part near the shore. We recognized a few of our teammates by sight in their wetsuits, and I stayed until we saw most of them (the ones we could recognize, anyway) do their halftime wading. Excuse the hokie metaphor (or is this a simile?) but the smiles on their faces were as shiny as the sun reflecting off the Gulf.
The crowds on the beach were overwhelming, and I noted the usefulness of team tee shirts and large signs/flags. Depending on the Team Z presence in 2010 (which I won’t know for sure until summer 2010), we may be doing a bit of DIY craftiness on this one.
I made my way over to the transition area to see how this worked. The athletes get the opportunity to pick up “special needs” bags at various points on the course (pre-packed by the athletes themselves with their own “special needs”), and the first drop-off was at T1 (that’s the transition between swim and bike). It looked like a salt-water-and-sandy mess over there, but folks picked up their stuff, and it gave me a split second to yell out some words of encouragement to anyone I saw in Team Z green. For the athletes, it was onto the longest portion of the race, the 112-mile bike, which consists of a single loop from PCB. This gave me some time to get breakfast, yet another cup of coffee, and get the lay of the land (2010 registration already in the back of my mind). I could see already that staying VERY close by is key, both for athletes and their spectators, and started looking around at condo options from the street. I also got a sense of where the Team Z landmarks were, especially the Z Headquarters (on the run course and only about 400 yards from the finish).
I signed up to volunteer in the women’s changing tent at T2 (that’s the transition from bike to swim) for two reasons. First, I wanted to get a little glimpse into how participants prepare (and cope) for a point at which the race starts to seem especially long. Second, volunteering at the race gets you a spot on the priority line for the next year’s registration. In other words, it’s the way to get the Golden Ticket a little sooner. I reported for duty at the tent at around noon, and saw the first male pros come through within half an hour. They were, well….pros about it. Very quick transitions (less than a minute) and back out to begin the 26-mile run. The pro women started coming in by 1pm, and were equally professional and even businesslike about it. I was pretty scared to help at first, afraid I would somehow mess up someone’s specific race plan. Triathletes (myself included) tend to be very particular about pretty much everything. That fear subsided, though, when I realized that I could help them in some small way by being a calm companion for a minute or two to help with clean socks, some anti-chafing stuff, and maybe a change of clothes (all while wearing rubber gloves to protect from the yuck). While most women stayed in their tri tops and shorts, a few stripped and dressed again. Modesty is pretty much out the window, and it’s a good object lesson that body image issues don’t really have much place at an Ironman. I was also surprised by how little time even the middle-of-the-packers spent in the tent, and how businesslike they were about it. While I saw a couple of ladies getting a bit teary-eyed, I did not see any breakdowns. Maybe the genetic thing with childbirth and all has something to do with how cool and composed these ladies were. In any event, it’s definitely something to visualize for myself. Finally, I emptied a lot of T2 special needs bags, and noticed that most were prepared for every possible eventuality. I saw:
· 5-Hour Energy
· Red Bull
· Tums
· PLENTY of Advil/Tylenol
· Sunscreen (note to self….start wearing it more often!!)
· Tampons (ah, womanhood)
· Reflector tape (another note to self….you’ll be running in the dark)
· “Spirit items” (including Canadian flags, a small stuffed animal, and a tiara)
All good to know. Whatever works….
I was very lucky to be able to help a couple of my teammates, including Maggie, who was over the moon at how fast she finished the bike. As I helped with her stuff, she kept asking me “What time is it?” She couldn’t believe she finished the bike that fast. She was done by 3:30ish, with over an hour of daylight to go! She looked like a million bucks, and I remembered all her dedication to the program. The fact that she was always at swim, always biking (in the rain, heat, etc.), even sticking to the Zone 2 plan at races (more on that in a later post). It was really a joy to see her feeling so good after all this work.
I took some breaks from the changing area for fresh air, and managed to catch some of our guys as they began their run. I realized that a big part of what I felt was pride for these people, for even being on the same team with them, so my new cheering mantra was “I’m so proud of you!!” I’m also so thankful that I was able to share some of their training with them.
I made my way back to HQ, where the noisemakers, beer and grilled pork products were in generous supply. The run course consists of two 13-mile loops, so we were able to see many of the Zers multiple times. To a person, every Zer was smiling as they ran by. Amazing. I took some breaks from the din of the cowbell and the smoke from the grill to cheer about 800 yards down on the run course, in a dark spot where U2 was blasting from big speakers. Especially inspiring for me after the Dublin Marathon just two weeks previous. Screamed my lungs out for folks like Paul, Bryan, Sinead, Emily, and Ironwoman Cat (who my parents asked about specifically….Cat, they wanted me to tell you they are so happy for you!!!!! I am so proud!!);.
While I didn’t make it over to the finish line bleachers, I went close enough to hear the announcer. “So-and-so from Anytown, USA….you are an Ironman.” Those are the famous words, and lots of people look forward to hearing that for years.
After 17+ hours of cheering on 3 hours of sleep, I was pretty beat, so I called it a night and walked back to the condo with Matt and Jacquie (who have already planned their 2010 trip, complete with a convertible….excellent idea, you guys!!!).
I slept like a rock and woke up by 6am on Sunday. Sunrise, and Day 1….Time to register. I figured I’d be near the front of the line and would even have time for a run, but nooooo……A hundred or so volunteers already lined up ahead of me. I got some coffee and chatted with the others. Very friendly and helpful bunch. I finally got into the Magic Tent, and wa
lked up to a sweet Southern lady with a laptop. She asked me “Have you ever done something like this before, honey?” Well, yes and no….$575 later, and a few administrative items handled……I had my Golden Ticket!! “Start training, honey!” said the registration Steel Magnolia. Oh what a feeling!!!! Exhilaration, fear…..A great adventure!! My God, what have I gotten myself into?!?!?!
As everyone warned/advised me, it’s kind of impossible to go there as a triathlete and not be tempted to sign up. I fully expected that, so I began thinking about whether I was ready to commit to this well before last weekend.
It probably began late this summer, after I was back into a fairly consistent training program after broken finger at a tri in May, and finally making some progress on the bike (my biggest tri challenge). I chose the Bassman Half-Ironman Race (Oct. 4, 2009) (a) to achieve my goal of a Half-Iron this season, and (b) as a test to see whether a race like IMFL is even an appropriate goal for me. Bassman was near the Jersey Shore, so lots of flat roads for riding/running. Even lots of scrubby pine trees like in FL. In any event, Bassman went about as well as I could have hoped for. It was at that point when I thought, “Gee, IMFL may be an option for me here.”
In terms of the 2010 Team Z calendar, we chose Ironman Wisconsin (September 2010) as the team race. Back in Sept. 2009, I was still on the fence about an IM for myself, so I committed to run guiding Doug Powell, one of our sight-impaired teammates. Part of my great adventure with be joining him across the finish line. God willing, USAT rule book and health issues will cooperate for him.
Then the IM bug really bit me, and I decided I didn’t want to wait for the 2011 team race. All of this leads to a fairly significant caveat for my IMFL 2010 adventure…..I won’t be racing with many other Z’ers (so far, I only know of Lindsay Mauldin, who is already an Iron Lady for all she has endured and achieved….more on her later), and there may be very few cheering. If Team Z chooses IMFL for 2011, there will be a big presence of folks volunteering and signing up. But, if Team Z chooses another IM for 2011 (like Cozumel), the Team Z effect won’t really be, well, in effect. I will be able to train with the IMMOO (that’s the moniker for Wisconsin….get it, Moo?) folks for most of 2010, but the presence may be smaller on race day. I’m pretty confident that the journey itself with my teammates will be plenty extraordinary, and that even a small group of family and friends will make it amazing. More than anything, I’m excited to see what happens. It’s like the first page of a book you can’t wait to read. I can’t wait to see what I learn, how I evolve, who I connect with, what I can do.
In the short term, it’s…..continue with the swim, sloooooowly ramp back up the run mileage after Dublin for the Shamrock Virginia Beach Marathon (March 21), ride my bike in the cold as much as my thin blood will let me, and get ready for a fantastic journey.
