No matter what you think you are capable of, you are forced to toe the line
come race day, and give everything you have.

Sometimes, you are lucky enough to get more out of yourself than you knew
possible.
Other times you don‚’t.

I went into my second Ironman with huge expectations for myself personally.

However, before I even got to the starting line, I was spiraling downward.
Day Before the Race
I can blame it on Chipotle, the lake water, Burmese food, banana bread,
nerves, the airplane, travel, or a million other things.
I‚’ll probably
never know what it actually was.
All that mattered is on Friday before the
race, my stomach wasn‚’t normal.

On Friday I didn‚’t eat breakfast, barely ate lunch, and had leftovers for
dinner.
I was in bed at 6:00 PM, ready to rest up and go to war the next
day.
However, I awoke at 9:00 PM not able to sleep.
My stomach was bloated, full
and uncomfortable.
Probably race nerves I thought.

Race Morning
I tossed and turned until my alarm went off at 1:45 AM, and started my
pre-race routine.
I drank my Zipfizz and Liquid IV, and waited to clear the
system (and the discomfort).
I waited, and waited, and waited.
Nothing.
I was so full and starting to
get nauseous, that I couldn‚’t even eat my pre-race meal, a bowl of oatmeal.
Despite the morning not starting off great, the bus was not going to wait
for me, so we left the room and made our way to the venue at 4:15 AM.

Once we got to the race start, I continued to follow the rest of my
pre-race routine.
I checked my tires, checked my gears, loaded my
nutrition.
Everything was good…except my stomach.
I asked a few EMTs if they had anything for bloat.
They laughed and
dismissed it as nerves and constipation.

I tried one last desperate maneuver a few minutes before the race at the
portapotty, but that didn‚’t help.
The last thing I was in the mood for at this point was 140.6 miles.

Swim
I did my best on the swim, and thought I was getting a pretty good rhythm
at some points.
The water temperature was a perfect 66 degrees, and the
conditions were primed for a big day.
No sun in the eyes, slightly
overcast, light breeze on the water (minimal waves).

I burped a few times, and even threw up a little in my mouth at one point,
but I was trying to focus on swimming and not my stomach.
A mouthful of
lake water cleared the taste, and I continued on (perhaps too much lake
water).

I kept zoning in-and-out, which is fairly normal for me on long swims.
Once
I made the turn to start lap two, I was more focused since I was eager to
get it done.

I made a choice (first time ever) to not have my watch track my swim in a
race.
I figured it usually depresses me anyway, and it gets stuck when
removing my wet-suit.
Swim Time: 1:17:39.
Considering how much I have improved in the pool in the last year, I was
expecting a better time.
However, under the circumstances, I‚’m not too
upset with my time.

Bike
The boat ramp after the swim was the steepest incline we would face all
day.
After an ok swim, and a trek up that ramp, I wanted to stop and call
it a day.

However, I have heard numerous stories of others who find their legs on the
bike, and turn things around.
So I pushed on.

But after exiting the bike area, and hitting my first bump of the day
(there were about 1000), I lost one of my two nutrition bottles.
I had
about 2 seconds to think about stopping.
I thought it was dangerous to stop
at that point, since it was 100 yards after the mount line, so I just kept
going.
My stomach was still bloated, but I thought the bike might help loosen me
up.
Except, my stomach was so distended, that each time I pedaled, I hit my
stomach (not normal for me).
That is 90 times a minute for 5 hours and 47
minutes.

Needless to say, it didn‚’t feel good.
I even felt like throwing up each
time I took a sip of my nutrition.
This led to lots of burps, not a lot of
nutrition, and an underwhelming bike split.

Honestly, I felt pretty good on the bike for about two and a half hours.

Which is about the time I probably hit the “wall”.
So I started to fade on
the bike, and my power dropped.

It was pretty interesting because I had no energy in my legs, and I could
feel it.
The rolling hills were getting tough, and the bumpy roads were
starting to destroy my neck and forearms.
I had to sit up a bunch, which
lost so much free speed.

Then I dropped my chain as I started a climb, my fault.
Somehow I managed
to lose less than a minute of time from that.

I later also had to stop because one of my aero bars came loose from all
the bumps! Lost another 2 minutes for that.

For both issues, looking back, I thought I handled them pretty well.
I
didn‚’t panic, and methodically took care of them.
In the moment it seemed
like I lost 5-7 minutes, but I actually only lost 3!
I saw my family around mile 90, and that helped get me through a few more
miles.
But that was it.
The wheels were falling off (figuratively).
The last 10 miles on the bike seemed like the longest, and I was just
praying I would see the final turn soon.
I drank as much Gatorade as I
could handle, knowing I was screwed once I started the run if I didn‚’t have
more in me (big mistake).
Once I did see the final turn, I unstrapped my shoes, and gracefully
(almost fell down) dismounted.
Only a marathon to go….maybe.
Bike Time: 5:47:49.
This was a PR, but could have been at least 30 minutes faster.
Bittersweet.

Run
I mapped out in my head where my bags were hanging for both T1 and T2.

However, once I got there, I was in such a daze, I just let the volunteers
grab it.
I literally couldn‚’t remember my bag was one of the first ones‚Äö√Ѭ∂.
I grabbed my bag from the volunteer, and slowly made my way into the
changing tent.
As I walked to the very back of the tent, everyone around me
was moving as fast as they possibly could.
I felt like I was moving in slow
motion.

I knew my time goal was beyond repair, so I just wanted to finish, even if
it took me 8 hours (I have run a sub 3 hour marathon before, so 8 hours is
a lot relatively speaking).
I sat in my chair and contemplated quitting.
But I am not a quitter.
I
don‚’t even know what that means.
I knew it would hurt.
I knew I didn‚’t feel
good.
I knew I was so behind on nutrition, I was running on pure guts.
So I
ate my SIS gel, got up, and started to move.

Seeing my family out of T2 was refreshing.
They were so positive.
So
encouraging.
They had no idea what a mess I was.
But there was no way I
could let them down.
No way.

I told them I might have to walk the whole thing, and they responded “That
is fine.
We will be here for you!”.
Are you kidding me! I almost broke down
in tears knowing I have that much support.

So I let my Nike Vaporfly 4%‚’s start to run for me (yes for $250 the shoes
actually do all the work!…I wish).

I set some simple goals so that I wasn‚’t overwhelmed by the entirety of the
marathon.
The course was 3 laps, each about 8.75 miles.
I kept telling
myself that it was just 3 rounds of my typical morning run.
I also figured I would be walking early, so I tried focusing on running for
5 minutes and walking for 1.
Then walking each aid station.
Slowly but
surely I would do it.

After the first aid station, in which I had some magic Coke, Red Bull, and
water, I started to feel a little queasy.
So I leaned over the side of the
trail and had the most projectile vomiting I have ever seen.
It was
something out of the movies.
Three vomits later, I felt amazing…but I
didn‚’t have any more Gatorade in me.
I had a little pep in my step, but was still so low on energy, I was
shuffling along at a pace I never actually run at, a zone 1 pace.
Oh well.

The distant sounds of the volunteers at each aid station were like heaven
to the ears.
Before I knew it, I was finishing lap 1.

I stopped for a conversation with my family, who were waiting near the turn
around, and explained how much “fun” I was having.
They kept cheering me
on.

I later found out that they were able to go eat ice cream and relax in
between each time I saw them.
The entire race, I felt so bad because I
thought they were standing in the same spot for 5 hours! It never donned on
me that they would move!
So I started the next lap, with more walking, encouraging fellow athletes,
drinking Red Bull and Coke and eating my SIS gels.
Trying to keep down
whatever I could (which wasn‚’t much).
I even saw a friend on the run a few
times, and he kept telling me to just keep moving forward.
So I did.
Another lap done…one to go.
This race was far from in the bag.
While I was
physically functioning at 60% effort, I could have very easily shut down
due to lack of nutrition.
But I asked God for one thing before the race
started, and that was to get to the finish line.

So I left for one final lap.
I had no time goals at this point.
I just
wanted to finish.
I knew I was slower than my first Ironman on the run, and
probably overall.
But I just needed to get my medal.
My sister made a sign that read “Remember you paid for this.” That made me
laugh because a major factor of finishing was the fact that I paid so much
for it!
Strava was also running a promotion that said if you finish your
half-marathon or marathon with your last mile being your fastest, they
would give $10 to a charity.
I knew this, and figured that I was running so
slow to start, this should be possible.

So at mile 24.5, I started to empty the tank.
I picked up my stride, and it
felt great.
I was finally running and not jogging in place.
I was actually
following another runner who had also picked up his pace quite a bit.
And
then I passed him.
And then I passed about 20 people who had been in front
of me all race.

As I made the final few turns, I started to look around to see how much
space was between me and the next person behind me.
I knew that if I slowed
down, I would be able to have a small window to cross the finish line
alone.

But that wasn‚’t in the cards this day.
As I found my family cheering me on
one last time, the athlete in front of me tripped on the red carpet and
fell.
I stopped my celebration and helped him to his feet, and we finished
together.
It was the fitting end to a not so perfect day.
But nothing mattered.
It
was over.
I got my medal, gave away my timing chip, took a finisher
picture, and then sat on the curb.

I wept.
I let it out.
It was such a long and mentally exhausting day.
So
many expectations and hours went into the race.
I was heart broken, but
proud I was able to overcome so much.

Run Time: 4:23:35.
My run was still faster than my first stand alone marathon 7 years ago!!!
Final Thoughts
Ironman races are humbling.

I have had every race go so smoothly for me, that Murphy‚’s Law hit me
across the face in this race.

I was humbled to see all the other athletes, old and young, pushing around
me.
I wanted to quit, but then I saw real pain on their faces, and I felt
like my problems were so small.
I knew I couldn‚’t give up because they
weren‚’t giving up.
No matter how bad I thought I didn‚’t want to be there.

I was/am very grateful to have such an amazing support crew for my races,
and for life.
I wouldn‚’t have crossed that finish line without them.
I got to experience a true Ironman race.
Not giving up.
Getting tough when
things are hard.
And realizing anything is possible.

PRs and Kona slots will come, but if it were easy, anyone could do it.
I
know what needs to be done…and mark my words, I will get my revenge on
Ironman Santa Rosa.

The post My Thoughts Ironman Santa Rosa 2019 appeared first on Aj in the Life.