Ironman Florida- The Run

Unlike most triathlons I have done, exiting T2 was not a stiff backed, dead legs affair. The body felt good and loose and the thought that I had a whole marathon in front of me was not much of an issue.

I may be alone in this, but I have been much more anxious about stand alone marathons more so than the last leg of an ironman. Perhaps because its the one discipline I feel I have a long time base. Perhaps its because its the one discipline the triathlete can control everything.

My issues with vomiting did not abate during the first 6.5 mile loop and every half mile or so I pulled over to dry heave a few ounces of fluid. My goal at this time was to keep more in me than what was going out. I thought mile 3 was mile 4 so I popped four Clif Bloks. They went down fine and at the next few pull overs it did not appear to have come back up. However I felt that this was not going to be the best program for me, at least in the situation I was having, so I threw the bag away.

I now had to contemplate how to get calories in me for the next 22 miles. I tried the flat coke and that did not work; it tasted fine, my stomach was having no pains or needed to burp, I simply felt my intake needed to more constructive. I took chicken broth at one aid station and it tasted great. I could have done more of that during the race but elected to keep my life simple and rely on the broth if things spiraled down, like the weather or my legs.

I finally decided to go to gatorade, which in bike training caused me all kinds of stomach issues. Mostly because I drink to much of it. I decided to use an old trick of mine from running races where I diluted 3 ounces of gatorade in 3 ounces of water which started to work really well. To get more calories in me I took several orange slices and squeezed them over ice and then carried that with me several times between aid stations.

Going through the park the first time to the turnaround was a mostly quiet affair. There is a steady uphill for a half mile but I didn't really notice it. Once I turned around and by then worked myself through a half dozen aid stations I was feeling well enough to stay moving at a steady pace.

My plan for the run was to stay steady at 11 or 11:30 minute miles the whole way through the run. I pretty much stuck to that plan the entire time. My pace averages were mid 12's which really was my walking through aid stations and the vomiting I did on the first 10k. Had I thought harder about it I would have needed to run at a 10 minute pace to truly have 11:30 mile splits. Oh well.

Heading back to the half marathon point, the sun was setting and the life of an ironman shrinks to the few feet in front of you or the bright aid station light down the road. You can no longer see the faces of the people around you and cheer on individuals. You need to cheer on yourself. I congratulated myself for overcoming a potentially dificult vomiting problem early on and by keeping my steady pace I continuously passed people with good legs.

The weather was quite pleasant, the wind and temperature cooperating with the race. I never felt too hot or cold. I ran in my same clothing as the bike with the arm warmers still on. I ran my first half in 3 hours. Mistress, Mo and Michelle all saw me at the turn around and Mistress ran with me for a spell. I told her to expect the same for the next and that I didn't think I would be able to take Mo across the finish line with me since it was so long and he is over 40 pounds.

Heading back out for the second loop was a long case of deva vu. Lots of families living on the course did their part to cheer us on and I was able to recognize that more now that I was in control of my situation. I had mentioned in earlier posts before Ironman if I would get mad or blaze with that inner fire that would get me to the finish line. I thought about that on the second loop and I never felt like I needed to get mad. Things were going well. I knew I would finish.

I was so happy that I had no issues with my injuries over the last twelve months. No pain from my hamstring tear, no issues from my calf tear, not a twinge from my shin splint, stress fracture, ankle swelling or the latest challenge the runners knee developed in peak week.

I only walked the aid stations, (excluding pull overs for evacuations of one kind or another). It helped and I admit this freely that this race had the longest aid stations I have ever seen. There was one on the south side of the road heading out to the state park and one a few yards down on the other side of the road heading back into town. I would walk to the end of one station drinking my gatorade/water mix, then switch sides of the road and walk the next one getting oranges and ice. It would equal a total of about a minute of walking and then the rest of my split time divided between the long breaks waiting for the porta-john to open up when I needed it.

Running down the road for that last mile, I felt like I was floating on air. People were cheering me on, the lights from the hotels and businessess were a bright counterbalance to the darkness of running through the residentials and the state park. I passed 113 people on the marathon and cut 30 minutes off the last half. I big time negative split an Ironman marathon.

Turning into the Boardwalk hotel was a dream. 200 yards away from Ironman. I got a bit emotional. Going through the first set of arches the crowds cheered. I raised my arms with fingers pointed skyward and spun them around to get them to cheer louder. It worked and they erupted in noise.

Mike Rielly never said, "You.Are.An.Ironman." He had some other quip. It didn't matter. I crossed the line, busted the tape, and felt relief.

A handler immediately grabbed me and asked my state of health. I was fine. A mylar blanket was wrapped around me and I was pushed in front of screen and my picture taken. Someone wanted to take my timing chip but it was my personal one. In the span of 30 seconds I went from Ironman finisher to being pushed into a crowd of people standing around behind the finish line. I just wanted to get out of there. I had been alone on the swim, alone on the bike, alone on the run and now I was in the midst of thousands. It became overwhelming until Mistress and Mighty Mo showed up to hug and kiss me.

The pride on their faces was emotional for me. Mo was still yelling, "Go Daddy Go!" After a few minutes of conversation, our friend Michelle took Mo back to the room while Mistress and I collected my bike and belongings.

Leaving the transition area we ran into Robo-Stu and Kahuna also getting their bags. Mistress had brought a bottle of fine champagne with her and the three of us, who had become so close over the last week and in the months prior all stomached a few sips.

I went back to my room content and satisfied. Mistress kept hugging me saying, "You did it honey." I finally looked her in the eyes and told her, "No, WE did it honey."