The run course of Ironman 70.3 Worlds in Vegas is designed to physically and mentally break even the toughest athletes down, not to mention running it during the middle of the day when the air temperature is reporting 110 makes it practically ridiculous. There is no telling how hot it is actually on the black asphalt on a course that has a total of about 10 feet of shade along it. 1/3 of the professional athletes racing ended up dropping out of the race by the time they encountered the run that day.
The course is 3 loops. Racers come out of transition and run downhill for a little over a mile, around a cone, then uphill for over 2 miles, around a cone and back down. To make it more fun, you get to pass, literally, about 10 feet from the finish line, see the croud, hear the announcer calling out finishers, vere to the left and climb a little nasty extra hill around a pavillion and start the trek over again.
I came out of transition flying, perhaps it was because I was going downhill, or because I was way too over cautious on the bike, or because I was well-fed and hydrated, but I came through the first mile in 7 minutes flat. Whoa- way too fast, but I told myself to just keep moving and stay relaxed. I passed the girl who had her bike set up next to me in transition (the thoughtful one who helped me with my tires pre-race). She was a native of England, but lived in Florida and earned her spot at 70.3 Miami. "Nice shoes" I told her as I passed and gave her a pat on the back - we were wearing the same running shoes, Saucony Mirages. Soon after, I saw a new friend from Georgia, Kari Bradley, who I had met on the trip out to Vegas, sitting on the curb with her shoes off. She looked hot and discouraged.
I stopped at every water stop and grabbed water - often times it was hot water thanks to the weather. The sponges they were handing out to runners felt like they came from a steamy shower, but at least they were wet. Ice was in short supply, so once I figured out which stop had ice, I loaded up on it (and shoved it down the front of my tri top). I kept popping the salt tablets and gu on a regular basis and was surprised how good I really felt, almost in a state of disbelief. I was even more surprised that 3 times while I walked through the water stations, I actually pee'd while walking (I know, TMI, but for an athlete under those conditions, I was overjoyed - that meant that I was properly hydrated! Besides, all the water I kept dumping on myself and sprinklers I walked through washed it all off!) I remember telling myself when I passed the finish line and headed up that stinker of a hill that I would see the finish line next loop and then one more loop and I would cross it in person.
Usually I have moments during a run, especially during these long triathlons, where I consider walking, stopping altogether, and begin asking myself why I am putting myself through this. Not that day. An image of my sweet Hailey running her first triathlon this past June came into my head and I smiled. She was filled with so much joy in the moment during her race. I ran happy. As I came over a crest of a hill, one of my Aquaphor teammates, an amazing Ironman athlete herself, Linda Matheson from Utah, was cheering me on with her husband (I started laughing out loud because he yelled "Go Deanna Walsh McCurdy" -clearly he knew me from Facebook, after all, who else calls someone by their maiden and married last name! She captured and sent me a couple of pictures after the race that captured that moment. I still laugh because the excitement of seeing them was written all over my face. Meanwhile, the men running around me were experiencing a totally different set of emotions that were obvious from their own facial expressions! I marvelled at a group of guys, donned in crazy wigs, chanting cheers in Dutch and words of encouragement chalked all over the roads in different languages. It was like I was participating in the Olympic games -or at least the closest I will ever come to being part of such an extraordinary event!
Only once did my competitive type A come out. It was when I spotted a girl from the Atlanta area. I remembered her from Augusta 70.3 last year. She had placed 3rd in our age group to qualify and I had finished 2nd. As I passed her, I told her good job just as I do to everyone I see in passing on the course. Internally though, I cheered, knowing that I had earned my place here. It wasn't just a fluke of one good race last year that allowed me to come here. I learned later that she was the first female in our age group out of the water. So, even with all the mishaps along the way, I had caught up and now passed her.
As I came down the final mile to the finish, my feet felt like they were moving without my willing them to take a step. I spotted Dave, standing on the side of the road under the only shady tree around, holding an empty plate of food. I have to admit, at that moment, a negative thought crossed my mind and unfortunately, my thought turned vocal. I yelled, "hey dumb @#$! Get to the finish line!" I was 600 yards away from finishing a 2 year journey and he was standing on the side of the road munching on lunch! As soon as I said those words, I felt horrible and quickly apologized to the girl running alongside me - I think I actually made her laugh! According to Irontracker (which I have little to no faith in), I ran a 6:07 that final mile. Of course, Irontracker said the mile before that was over 9 minutes of uphill. Both miles, I know were off from the tracker's pace, but that final mile was definitely a flying, almost out of body experience! What a feeling!
I picked off 3 more athletes in the final stretch to the finish, not because I was driven to beat them, but rather, I wanted to get a good finisher photo from the race photographer! Yes, perhaps it was part vanity, but I wanted a memorable photo of the event! I literally jumped across the finish line hands up in the air waving, elated and full of more joy than I ever imagined possible. Someone placed a finisher medal around my neck - the biggest, heaviest medal I have ever seen, then ushered me to the t-shirt tent to get my finisher's shirt (there is a consolation in knowing that a 1/3 of the pros did not earn that shirt that day). I weaved through a crowd of athletes, many of whom were laying on the ground like they were in a warzone (apparently, the medical tent was an even scarier battleground), grabbed a chocolate milk and a coke (both tasted heavenly!) and headed out to find Dave and my friends, John and Amy.
It was only when I saw the 3 of them, that I realized I did it... I completed a journey that started over 2 years ago. I battled fear, frustration, the elements, persevered, and finished strong. As I embraced the 3 of them, tears of joy began to flow. What a journey. What an adventure!
When I first set up a Miles for Smiles fundraising page to raise money for F.A.S.T. (Foundation for Angelman Syndrome Therapeutics) 2 years ago, I wrote how I decided to sign up for and tackle the sport of triathlon because I could relate my struggles during a tri to life raising my child with Angelman Syndrome. The swim, I wrote, is like my current stage of life with Hayden. I struggle daily, I fight to breathe, I battle panic feelings that I am not strong enough to take on the challenge before me. Just when I begin to relax and convince my mind that I can do this, wham! - out of nowhere a wave hits me and I gulp in water. It is a tough stage, that is certain, but once I get out of the water, after facing my greatest challenges and fears, conquering them, I feel like I can face anything else that ever comes before me.
The bike comes next. I hope the bike is like the time, hopefully soon, when a therapeutic - or even better, a genuine cure!- is available for Hayden. It will be a lot of work to teach her about our world - how to speak, read, write, play games, eat properly, learn manners, but oh how wonderful that stage will be. There will be many set-backs along the way, steeper mountains to climb than I imagine, deeper valleys to fly down into, but it will be a wonderful enlightening, rewarding time.
The run - oh how I do love the run! I love believing that one day Hayden will be running along side me, cheering loudly with her own voice, chasing her sister, laughing every step of the way.
Never would I have thought this analogy would relate so poignantly as it did during the Ironman 70.3 World Championships. One thing is certain though- It has been a journey that I will never forget. I look forward to watching my angel grow, tackle her own daily race, and ultimately, cross the biggest, most gloriously amazing finish line. Wow - how the crowd will cheer!
The course is 3 loops. Racers come out of transition and run downhill for a little over a mile, around a cone, then uphill for over 2 miles, around a cone and back down. To make it more fun, you get to pass, literally, about 10 feet from the finish line, see the croud, hear the announcer calling out finishers, vere to the left and climb a little nasty extra hill around a pavillion and start the trek over again.
I came out of transition flying, perhaps it was because I was going downhill, or because I was way too over cautious on the bike, or because I was well-fed and hydrated, but I came through the first mile in 7 minutes flat. Whoa- way too fast, but I told myself to just keep moving and stay relaxed. I passed the girl who had her bike set up next to me in transition (the thoughtful one who helped me with my tires pre-race). She was a native of England, but lived in Florida and earned her spot at 70.3 Miami. "Nice shoes" I told her as I passed and gave her a pat on the back - we were wearing the same running shoes, Saucony Mirages. Soon after, I saw a new friend from Georgia, Kari Bradley, who I had met on the trip out to Vegas, sitting on the curb with her shoes off. She looked hot and discouraged.
I stopped at every water stop and grabbed water - often times it was hot water thanks to the weather. The sponges they were handing out to runners felt like they came from a steamy shower, but at least they were wet. Ice was in short supply, so once I figured out which stop had ice, I loaded up on it (and shoved it down the front of my tri top). I kept popping the salt tablets and gu on a regular basis and was surprised how good I really felt, almost in a state of disbelief. I was even more surprised that 3 times while I walked through the water stations, I actually pee'd while walking (I know, TMI, but for an athlete under those conditions, I was overjoyed - that meant that I was properly hydrated! Besides, all the water I kept dumping on myself and sprinklers I walked through washed it all off!) I remember telling myself when I passed the finish line and headed up that stinker of a hill that I would see the finish line next loop and then one more loop and I would cross it in person.
Usually I have moments during a run, especially during these long triathlons, where I consider walking, stopping altogether, and begin asking myself why I am putting myself through this. Not that day. An image of my sweet Hailey running her first triathlon this past June came into my head and I smiled. She was filled with so much joy in the moment during her race. I ran happy. As I came over a crest of a hill, one of my Aquaphor teammates, an amazing Ironman athlete herself, Linda Matheson from Utah, was cheering me on with her husband (I started laughing out loud because he yelled "Go Deanna Walsh McCurdy" -clearly he knew me from Facebook, after all, who else calls someone by their maiden and married last name! She captured and sent me a couple of pictures after the race that captured that moment. I still laugh because the excitement of seeing them was written all over my face. Meanwhile, the men running around me were experiencing a totally different set of emotions that were obvious from their own facial expressions! I marvelled at a group of guys, donned in crazy wigs, chanting cheers in Dutch and words of encouragement chalked all over the roads in different languages. It was like I was participating in the Olympic games -or at least the closest I will ever come to being part of such an extraordinary event!
Only once did my competitive type A come out. It was when I spotted a girl from the Atlanta area. I remembered her from Augusta 70.3 last year. She had placed 3rd in our age group to qualify and I had finished 2nd. As I passed her, I told her good job just as I do to everyone I see in passing on the course. Internally though, I cheered, knowing that I had earned my place here. It wasn't just a fluke of one good race last year that allowed me to come here. I learned later that she was the first female in our age group out of the water. So, even with all the mishaps along the way, I had caught up and now passed her.
As I came down the final mile to the finish, my feet felt like they were moving without my willing them to take a step. I spotted Dave, standing on the side of the road under the only shady tree around, holding an empty plate of food. I have to admit, at that moment, a negative thought crossed my mind and unfortunately, my thought turned vocal. I yelled, "hey dumb @#$! Get to the finish line!" I was 600 yards away from finishing a 2 year journey and he was standing on the side of the road munching on lunch! As soon as I said those words, I felt horrible and quickly apologized to the girl running alongside me - I think I actually made her laugh! According to Irontracker (which I have little to no faith in), I ran a 6:07 that final mile. Of course, Irontracker said the mile before that was over 9 minutes of uphill. Both miles, I know were off from the tracker's pace, but that final mile was definitely a flying, almost out of body experience! What a feeling!
I picked off 3 more athletes in the final stretch to the finish, not because I was driven to beat them, but rather, I wanted to get a good finisher photo from the race photographer! Yes, perhaps it was part vanity, but I wanted a memorable photo of the event! I literally jumped across the finish line hands up in the air waving, elated and full of more joy than I ever imagined possible. Someone placed a finisher medal around my neck - the biggest, heaviest medal I have ever seen, then ushered me to the t-shirt tent to get my finisher's shirt (there is a consolation in knowing that a 1/3 of the pros did not earn that shirt that day). I weaved through a crowd of athletes, many of whom were laying on the ground like they were in a warzone (apparently, the medical tent was an even scarier battleground), grabbed a chocolate milk and a coke (both tasted heavenly!) and headed out to find Dave and my friends, John and Amy.
It was only when I saw the 3 of them, that I realized I did it... I completed a journey that started over 2 years ago. I battled fear, frustration, the elements, persevered, and finished strong. As I embraced the 3 of them, tears of joy began to flow. What a journey. What an adventure!
When I first set up a Miles for Smiles fundraising page to raise money for F.A.S.T. (Foundation for Angelman Syndrome Therapeutics) 2 years ago, I wrote how I decided to sign up for and tackle the sport of triathlon because I could relate my struggles during a tri to life raising my child with Angelman Syndrome. The swim, I wrote, is like my current stage of life with Hayden. I struggle daily, I fight to breathe, I battle panic feelings that I am not strong enough to take on the challenge before me. Just when I begin to relax and convince my mind that I can do this, wham! - out of nowhere a wave hits me and I gulp in water. It is a tough stage, that is certain, but once I get out of the water, after facing my greatest challenges and fears, conquering them, I feel like I can face anything else that ever comes before me.
The bike comes next. I hope the bike is like the time, hopefully soon, when a therapeutic - or even better, a genuine cure!- is available for Hayden. It will be a lot of work to teach her about our world - how to speak, read, write, play games, eat properly, learn manners, but oh how wonderful that stage will be. There will be many set-backs along the way, steeper mountains to climb than I imagine, deeper valleys to fly down into, but it will be a wonderful enlightening, rewarding time.
The run - oh how I do love the run! I love believing that one day Hayden will be running along side me, cheering loudly with her own voice, chasing her sister, laughing every step of the way.
Never would I have thought this analogy would relate so poignantly as it did during the Ironman 70.3 World Championships. One thing is certain though- It has been a journey that I will never forget. I look forward to watching my angel grow, tackle her own daily race, and ultimately, cross the biggest, most gloriously amazing finish line. Wow - how the crowd will cheer!
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