My marathon at IMFL was 5hr 30min. Thats with a thirty minute negative split. I threw up every half mile for the first 6.5 miles. Oh, I didn't really stop running, just ran on the extreme right and let it go but it slowed me down trying to reconfigure my nutrition plan. I think I spent five or at most ten minutes waiting for or using a Porta-Let. I know my pace was consistently 11:15 all the way through because I looked at my Polar 625 all the time. I know I walked almost all the aid stations and very infrequently in between. Adding up all the aid stations and walking portions in between, I walked less than four miles of the marathon.
I have no clue what I thought about out there for five and one half hours. I have stunning visions of the course but not a single thought.
I remember at about 2 miles all the females leaders passed by on their sprints to the finish. I remember passing so many of my blogging buddies and how great they looked; determined Jenny, a super fast Robo hammering out his first half, smiling, finger pointing Kahuna, Bolder with his head high and knees up in perfect running form, Tri-daddy smiling and huffing it out very much looking like a man that learned to run in the Army (compliment), Tri-mama a vision of supreme concentration. I remember throwing up a lot up till the first turnaround (6.5 miles). I remember it got dark fast. I remember the lights up to the finish shoot.
Then my memory kicks back in and I can recall all sorts of thoughts and conversations. My favorite is talking to Robo Stu and Kahuna at the transition exit and how awesome Robo's race was when Mistress walks up with a bottle of champagne and a stack of cups. We all could only take a sip without blenching.
Isn't strange that during such a long run, I should be able to remember one thought. Just one. I could guess I thought about breathing, being relaxed, counting footfalls, being excited to walk at an aid station, scolding myself for looking at my pace to much, where my friends were. Thoughts of would I be able to finish changing to I am going to finish.
Instead I am left with dead space. Every memory of my run is visual. I can still remember so clearly what my friends were wearing, especially Kahuna's sloppy grin and super big long sleeve gray shirt yelling, "Comm today you are an ironman!". Not a single thought of my own though.
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9 comments:
Whether visual or verbal, they're there to be treasured, Comm's!
... maybe you were having a private conversation with God, and it's supposed to be just between you two. All I know is: you looked great that whole week, you have a lovely family, and you are indeed an Ironman.
Heard you saw Momo at the relay! that's awesome!
Jenny
Comm - This is off topic but just wanted to say good luck in Arizona. I competed...um I mean participated in IM Florida and enjoyed reading your blog leading up to the big race. I hope all goes well and look foward to reading your race report.
Brad - Houston, TX
that happens to me a lot. my suggestion? get off the birth control pills. :)
For as long as these things are, they have that funny way of going by quickly and just seem like a big blur. I, too, have snippets of memories from my races, but for being out there as long as I am, I would expect to have more?
Best of luck in AZ, dude! That's so incredibly studly doing an Ironman so close to your last one!
the only thing i remember clearly? mile 18 - 23 where the only thought in my mind was 'what the heck am i doing out here?' the rest of it is just a blur. like you, though, i have many, many visual memories, and those are so vividly clear.
perhaps it was just your brain's way of protecting you from any negative thoughts that might have crept in.
you're going to rock imaz!!
99.99% of the world doesn't have 1 memory of an ironman so chin up.
dude, you were in The Zone!
but, let me assure you, i remember you, and your encouragement.
and, a blur of orange!
Let's do it AGAIN! I totally remember yelling at you during the race, "Comm, you are going to be an Ironman today!"
What an effing day.
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