Jen,

An outstanding and inspirational race report... way to hang tough
through the difficulties, you truly are an Ironman (x2)...!!!

Erik

At 02:58 AM 7/6/2009, Jen Tallman wrote:
>Racer: Jen Tallman
>Race: Ironman Coeur d'Alene
>Date: Sunday, June 21, 2009
>Location: Coeur d'Alene, ID
>Race Type: Triathlon - Ironman
>Age Group: Female 30 - 34
>Time: 16:34:27
>URL: http://www.trirats.net/view_result.php?racerid=2466
>Comment: Why do I attract bad weather???
>
>--------------
>Race Report:
>
>0400, June 21, 2009, My fingers found the snooze on my alarm. I was
>awake, having slept better than the previous night when I had been plagued
>by crazy time warp dreams. My chest felt tight with anxiety, and I wanted
>a few minutes to breathe before the day got rolling.
>
>There was something about knowing what was ahead of me that made this
>race seem bigger and more impossible than last year. Even coming off of a
>significantly improved performance at Triple T, there was something about
>having been there and done that that made the whole task seem
>insurmountable. I almost wished that I was still the excited ignorant
>girl who bounded joyfully into the journey last year, having no idea what
>it was really all about until it was over.
>
>I centered myself, changed into my tri shorts, warm up pants, a pink
>sports bra and my finisher's sweatshirt from last year. I was making
>every attempt to remind myself that I could DO THIS! I walked out into
>the kitchen and slammed an organic energy drink. I grabbed my two
>smoothies that I had prepped the previous night and distributed my race
>nutrition into my special needs bags and into a bag for things that I
>needed to put on the bike. I was going with a plan similar to last
>year's. A high calorie mix bottle for each loop of the bike and each loop
>of the run, and a choice of almond butter and Jelly or mashed avocado for
>the bike and bike special needs bag.
>
>I climbed in the back of my Jeep to let Les drive and give Corby some
>space for his long legs. I set up my ipod and we blasted Eminem's Lose
>Yourself all the way to town. We found a prime parking spot just off
>Lakeside on 2nd St. Corby grabbed my bags, and Les took pictures the
>whole way as we walked to Java, the only coffee place that opened at a
>reasonable hour for race day (4am). I got my mocha, and I chatted with my
>sister, who called at 5 to wish me luck. It was less of a surprise this
>year than it was last year, because she was calling from Louisiana instead
>of Italy. It was still so great to talk to her!
>
>After coffee, we walked down to City Park where crowds of fit people were
>baring their arms and legs to marker wielding volunteers who were
>efficiently marking muscled limbs with race numbers and ages. The
>temperature was in the upper 40s, and I was not excited about taking my
>shirt off to get marked. When I did, the wind bit into my bare skin. I
>did not let my mind wander back to the warm bed I had left a little over
>an hour ago.
>
>After I was marked, I enthusiastically pulled my sweatshirt on again and
>led the way to transition so that I could add food and water to my bike,
>put a few things in my transition bags, and get my tires pumped up. I
>hoped that the valve stem extenders would cooperate, unlike they had last
>week. I was not in the mood to mess with them, and I didn't have TFE tape
>with me.
>
>With my bike ready to go, I just had to drop off special needs bags on
>the other end of the park, drink my smoothie, put on my wetsuit and wait
>for the gun. Special needs bag drop off was a bunch of boxes, labeled
>with number ranges down at the end of the park where the first part of the
>run loop would pass. I dropped each of my bags, and walked back to the
>wall near the beach.
>
>I drank 32oz of smoothie, but couldn't drink the other 32, because my
>stomach was feeling really full and nervous, despite 3 trips to the porta
>johns so far. I just hoped that I had gotten enough food in before the
>race.
>
>I watched the pro race go of at 0625, and decided that it was time to put
>the wetsuit on. I lubricated my wrists, ankles and neck with body glide
>and slid into the neoprene cocoon. Before I could zip up, Taz, from East
>Coast Bicycle Academy the Ironman mechanic team, came up. She wished me
>luck, and we talked while I zipped into my wetsuit and then layered a
>jacket over it to ward off the wind that was kicking up some significant
>chop in the water.
>
>I remembered swimming in the wind and chop in Mexico every afternoon at
>yoga TT. I remembered how the waves rocked me gently as I swam, and I
>decided that this would be just like that, and not like the struggle that
>was my practice swim on Thursday.
>
>The clock edged towards race time, so I dropped my shoes and socks in my
>dry clothes bag and made my way through the crowds of spectators to the
>cold damp sand of the beach. The chill was so deep in my feet that I
>wanted to hurry and get into the water so that I could warm up. That
>struck me as funny at a race that is known for cold water temps. This
>year the air was cold and the water a mild 65 degrees.
>
>I stood at the top of the beach for a minute and looked around at the
>crowd of red and white swim caps that were lined up along the beach. The
>colors reminded me of match heads....hmmm fire would be nice right about
>now.
>
>I picked a spot in the crowd up near the front but a few rows back and
>right on the buoy line. It was similar to where I seeded myself for
>Placid, and I had a wonderful easy swim there. I milled around and
>listened to Mike Reilly pump the crowd up for the start. Time pressed
>on.
>
>0700, the gun went off and I followed the crown into the water. I had
>space, so I dove right into swimming as soon as it was deep enough. I got
>a more realistic taste of the mass swim start than last year. While I
>didn't experience any injuries, it was a much more turbulent experience.
>I was kicked, smacked, and had my goggles knocked loose three times before
>the first buoy. I just stayed calm and kept swimming my swim.
>
>The water was rough, and I didn't feel that same amazing draft that I'd
>felt in Lake Placid. I looked for someone to draft off of, but it seemed
>that everyone near me was breast stroking, which always pisses me off in a
>triathlon, because the big froggy kicks take up a lot of space in the
>water, and it's not like you're out here by yourself!
>
>I was relatively straight, though I was forced to take the inside on a
>few of the buoys on the way out, and I ended up drinking quite a bit of
>lake water when my breath pattern would coincide with a swell. I made the
>first turn buoy quickly, and had to fight the wind to stay in a straight
>line to the next turn. Once I hit the return, I rode the wind back to
>shore, getting beaten by other athletes along the way.
>
>When I came out of the water to hit the timing mat for loop two, I didn't
>catch a glimpse of the clock, but I was pretty sure I was going faster
>than last year, or at least on pace with it. I was back in the water
>quickly with a slight adjustment to my goggle straps from where they had
>gotten knocked loose.
>
>The second loop was pretty much the same as the first. The crowd thinned
>a little, but it was still a jostling experience, and the wind seemed to
>be picking up. When I came out of the water, I was disappointed to see
>1:34:?? on the clock. That was slower than last year! I remembered
>Ryan's words to me the day before, "If something goes wrong, don't lose
>time thinking about what can't be changed. Just focus on the road ahead."
> I put the swim behind me, reminding myself that Lake Placid's water was
>smooth as glass... aside from the downpour that started halfway through
>the swim.... I guess every race has it's personality.
>
>I ran up the beach to transition and headed for a wetsuit strip team. I
>left my goggles and cap on my head this year to avoid having the goggles
>inadvertently ripped during the wetsuit stripping process. The two women
>expertly removed my wetsuit and I went to grab my T1 bag. I found it and
>was guided to the women's change tent.
>
>The heat inside the tent was a nice contrast to the chill outside. I
>wasn't even going to mess with carrying arm warmers in case I got cold.
>Those babies were going on right away! I found a seat, dropped my bag and
>started pulling shoes, socks, arm and knee warmers out. A volunteer came
>up and helped me dry off a bit, get the jersey on over my damp torso and
>then slip on the arm warmers. Ok, maybe slip is a bit generous. The wool
>just wanted to stick to my arms, so she really had to muscle them up.
>While she did that, another volunteer loaded my jersey pockets with my
>emergency kit (kleenex, bandaids, mole skin, and hand gel), endurolytes,
>and my knee warmers.
>
>Just as we got my jersey loaded up, the woman next to me said,"hey! Great
>jersey!" I am accustomed to comments on the Where the Wild Things Are
>jersey, so I looked up and started to say thanks. Then I saw that she was
>wearing the exact same jersey! I laughed, said,"You too! We're twins!"
>She smiled and handed her bag to a volunteer. I made sure my HRM was in
>place, handed the bag back to the volunteer and went in search of
>Contessa. She was right where I left her on the rack, so I grabbed her
>and ran for the mount line.
>
>The first part of the bike course winds through the heart of town, so the
>streets are lined with Ironfans cheering and waving signs. Last year I
>was really pumped up by the spectators, but this year I felt disconnected
>and deep within myself. I rode out of town on Coeur d'Aene Lake Drive
>where the wind was coming off the water and pushing my bike sideways. I
>managed to stay aero and keep control.
>
>I hit the first climb, and though I was feeling fresh, I kept in mind the
>112 miles and took it conservatively. I enjoyed the rollers back to the
>turn around, and the view of the lake was beautiful. The clouds did look
>threatening though. Oh PLEASE don't rain on me while I am biking!!
>
>I followed the course back through town where the buildings sheltered me
>from the wind. I was a little more relaxed, so I enjoyed the crowd more,
>but I still had this underlying fear that this was going to be one long
>hard race. Adding to that was the fact that my stomach was feeling a
>little gross from drinking so much lake water. I like to start taking in
>calories about 5 miles into the bike, but I wasn't sure when I was going
>to be able to do that.
>
>The course took us out of town through neighborhoods and strip malls. It
>was mostly flat, and I felt good pedaling. I didn't have my Garmin or my
>bike computer set so that I could see speed. I had forgotten my regular
>watch, so I had the Garmin screen that showed me the time of day, so I
>could watch myself in relation to cutoffs. If I needed to, I could check
>my HR, but I was feeling like I could go all day.
>
>Strip Malls and gas stations gave way to trees and well.... trees. Idaho
>has a lot of trees. I was getting passed a lot and for some reason kept
>thinking that the last person in the race was gaining on me and pretty
>soon I'd be racing with a SAG vehicle behind me. I told myself what a
>ridiculous thought that was. There were certainly people who used the
>entire 2:20 to get through their swim, and they were not going to pass me.
> I decided to tell myself that all theses people passing me were in danger
>of burning out early, while I would have plenty left for the run. At mile
>13, my ex boyfriend passed me, and it was fun to know that I had beaten
>him yet again in a swim. At mile 16, I forced myself to drink some
>calories. They didn't sit well, but I told my stomach to HTFU and deal.
>We weren't going to quit based on a little lake water.
>
>There were more rollers now, and I knew we'd hit the hilly part soon. We
>turned right into Hayden Lake Country Club, and I knew to get ready for a
>few climbs. I reminded myself that it was nothing like the course in Lake
>Placid. I just needed to manage my momentum wisely and stay steady.
>
>The wind out here was the worst it had been all day. It was steady and
>gusting strongly. It knocked me back and forth across the right lane of
>the road. I stayed aero to minimize how much of me it could grab. My
>shoulders and neck started to ache. I put the pain aside. I was on loop
>1, no time to start complaining about pain.
>
>There were people here and there on the course cheering us on. Some set
>up music, some had even rented porta johns for us to use. There is even
>one place on the course where the property owner keeps a porta john,
>banner and table set up as a year round aid station for people training on
>the course. And my initial impression was that Coeur d'Alene wasn't as
>amped to have us as Placid... Maybe I was wrong...
>
>Like last year, the bike was turning out to be a lonely task. We
>encouraged each other as we passed each other, but there was little
>conversation as we twisted and turned through rural roads, battling
>gravity and the wind. The course changes directions many times and I
>wondered how it always happened that the wind was either blowing against
>us or across us. I remember two short sections of less than a mile where
>the wind came from behind, but they were just teasing.
>
>I had the inkling that I needed to pee since mile 18 or so, but I didn't
>want to stop, since I was fighting the wind, unsure of my speed and trying
>to make up for my slow swim. I wasn't sure if I could get over the mental
>block and pee on the bike without the assistance of the rain from Lake
>Placid. Already being soaking wet made it so much easier to pee on the
>bike. I decided I would try it. At about mile 26, I hit a short climb
>where no one was behind me, and I held my breath and let it go. It
>actually came easier this time than it had the first time in Placid. From
>that point on, I was able to keep releasing excess fluid as if I had
>trained that way. Who knew?
>
>After what seemed like a million turns, I finally saw some cones and a
>police car, and knew that I was approaching a timing mat! I made the
>u-turn around the cones and rode over the mat as it chimed, recording my
>progress for all of the people following me at home. I was happy to be
>headed back to town, but I had to push aside the dread that filled me as I
>contemplated fighting the wind for another 70ish miles.
>
>My neck and shoulders were in terrible pain, and I wished that I could
>stop for a massage. My Left IT band had also begun to hurt. I thought
>about how it may not have been the best idea to tweak my fit 2 weeks
>before the race. I let go of the things that couldn't be changed and
>pedaled.
>
>Trees gave way to a suburban landscape of strip malls and houses, then to
>quiet tree-lined streets where signs of encouragement dotted the medians
>and the lawns. When I reached town, spectators cheered us on as they
>huddled inside of their sweatshirts and jackets. Some wore gloves and
>hats.
>
>Just as I came down NW Blvd, I got passed by several pro men who were
>returning from their second loops and getting ready to start their
>marathons. Oh to be where they were! I wished that I only had 26.2 miles
>to go. I saw the signs that indicated which lane went to the second loop
>and which went to transition. When I got back there would only be a sign
>for transition. I checked my Garmin and verified that I was on track to
>beat the cutoffs. I did not want to meet race officials here and get
>pulled off of the course after 5:30pm.
>
>I relished the less windy conditions in the city, but quickly passed on
>to Couer d'Alene Lake Drive where the wind pressed hard against my right
>side as it came in from the water. There were cheerleaders in volunteer
>shirts jumping and yelling, and a band of men in kilts playing the bag
>pipes. I though how appropriate the forlorn sound would be if they were
>still out on that stretch after dark as the hours grew short and strides
>slowed.
>
>I made it to the turn around, and I was thrilled to see the special needs
>bags. I had managed to drain my bottle of gel/perpetum, and I was eager
>to get another shot of energy drink. 63 miles done 51 to go. A volunteer
>grabbed my bag and called out to me. I rode up to her and quickly
>switched bottles and drank deeply from the one containing energy drink. I
>tossed the empty back into the bag and clipped my numb feet back to
>Contessa's pedals. It had felt good to stretch a bit, but now it was time
>to finish this ride.
>
>I rode back to town, concentrating on keeping my balance in the wind. I
>prayed that the wind would die down, but it continued to shove me. As I
>headed back out to the hills of Hayden Lake, I pondered if I would be able
>to run with the increasing burning in my left ITB and my numb feet. I
>wasn't sure if my feet were numb from the bike or from the chill. Either
>way, I told myself that I was going to be fine.
>
>Traffic was thinner on the second loop. Spectators were also not as
>numerous. The chill and the thickening clouds were likely sending people
>indoors. Back out at Hayden Lake, I played leapfrog with a couple of
>women. I would pass them on the climbs and they would pass me on the
>descents. The heavier of the two of them, called out to me as she passed
>me for the last time, "I'm heavier, so I can go faster here!" It was
>amusing.
>
>I made small goals of 5 miles, then 1 mile. I kept visualizing the turn
>around, and thinking that it was just up ahead, around the next curve, or
>over the next crest. I ended up leapfrogging with a guy who was 28. I
>forgot his name before I even finished biking, but we conversed a bit. His
>3rd Ironman, and he was feeling discouraged and cold. It cheered me, to
>cheer him. I just knew that to feed the negative would defeat me.
>
>After numerous turns down roads that all looked identical, I finally saw
>the cones marking the turn around! I knew that meant that there was about
>20 miles to go. I told myself to pace myself, because that was more than
>an hour of riding to go. I also reminded myself that a 20 mile bike ride
>was NOTHING!
>
>My mood was elevated knowing that I was headed back to town, and was no
>longer winding through seemingly endless nondescript roads with the wind
>tossing me about and chilling my hands, feet and face.
>
>I watched each mile tick away on the garmin, and I watched the minutes
>tick away. I was disappointed to calculate that I would be getting into
>town about the same time as I had in Placid. I didn't seem to be
>improving over last year, and I began to wonder if sub 16 was possible for
>me this day. As if the conditions weren't challenging enough, a soft
>steady soaking rain began to fall. With only 15 miles to go, I just kept
>pedaling, reminding myself that I love to run in the rain.
>
>I began to prepare for the marathon. My knee was screaming and I couldn't
>feel my feet from the ball forward, but I knew I could run. What I wanted
>to do was throw in the towel, get a shower, a massage and take a nap. I
>began to question what I was doing out here. Did I belong here among all
>of these fit fast people? Was I fooling myself to think I am an athlete?
>Some deeper voice within answered that I could say anything I wanted in
>this moment as long as I kept moving. That voice does not know the word
>quit. It does know that at a soul level, I am an Ironman, and that I
>belong in the race no matter where I find myself.
>
>My energy came back some when I saw the high school, the stores and the
>beginnings of the city. The last mile on NW Blvd was over quickly, and I
>saw Corby on the corner as I rode by. He snapped a picture that I did not
>smile for. I did not have smiles for the camera this year. I know from the
>pictures that I, in fact, looked as hollow-eyed and distant as I felt.
>
>All lanes lead to transition! I rode up to the dismount line, grabbed my
>Garmin off the bike, handed Contessa off to a volunteer and limped off
>towards the bags and then the change tent. I landed heavily in a chair,
>and two volunteers rushed to assist me with my change over. One massaged
>my neck and shoulders while the other helped me into my socks, shoes and
>jacket and helped me out of my helmet. I attached my Garmin to its wrist
>strap and attached it to my wrist. I changed it from bike to run, stuffed
>my unneeded stuff into the bag, and made my way towards the exit. One of
>the volunteers called out that I should walk a bit before I ran, but I
>only heard Ryan's voice. "Try to run the whole marathon. I am learning
>from Bob that you just have to keep running, even if it's the slowest most
>ridiculous run. It's too easy to start walking and keep walking, so run
>as much of the marathon as you can."
>
>I vowed right then that no matter what I was going to run 26.2 miles. My
>feet were still numb and my ITB was on fire. I walked towards the arch
>that read run start, gritted my teeth, and started to run. I made an
>agreement with my mind and body that the mind could do whatever it wanted
>to as long as the body kept running until it crossed the finish line.
>
>I ran through the park along the back side of the expo. People had
>written messages on the sidewalk in chalk. Someone had drawn two penises
>and had captioned them, "Don't go soft, now!" and " Keep it up!" I hurt
>too bad to laugh.
>
>I passed the first aid station less than a mile in, and I took some
>water. The volunteers there had themed the aid station "road work." They
>built a giant man from cones and barrels, and had modified street signs to
>say motivating things. I kept running and spilled a good bit of it. I
>decided that I would walk that aid stations until I had finished my water
>or food and thrown away my cup, so I didn't get dehydrated.
>
>At the first mile my feet were still numb and my knee was feeling
>fragile. I made the turn around and headed back through the park. I saw
>a lot of fresh looking fast people who were on their second laps, and I
>was awash in jealousy. I let my head think what it wanted and my legs keep
>running, while I sat back knowing that I was racing MY race.
>
>I passed special needs, where I could get my bag on my second loop. I
>almost wished I could get into it now, because there was a second jacket
>in there, and with the rain having soaked through the one I was wearing
>and the wind still beating at me, I was longing for another layer.
>
>The next aid station, I took water and Coke and some pretzels. My body
>totally rejected the solid food. Nothing dramatic, I just registered
>disgust. I was amused by the volunteers who were playing jazz and Zydeco
>music and wearing huge bras decorated with all manner of sparkly things.
>They had Mardi Gras beads and were dancing. Their sign read "Mardi Bra!"
>I think I managed a smile.
>
>The sidewalk was lined with spectators who cheered us on, and I hoped
>that they would stick around for my second loop. I needed all the support
>I could get. The energy in town was motivating, and I felt more connected
>as I ran slowly by. I was scared that I didn't have time to make the
>finish. I had let go of the sub 16 goal, and I had adopted the goal of
>improve over last year.
>
>I could tell from the looks on people's faces that I did not look good,
>but they told me I looked strong, and I knew that I was. I prayed for my
>legs to just keep running. It could all be over in 6-7 hours. 24 miles to
>go. It was around that 2 mile marker that the feeling started to come
>back into my feet. My upper body was still chilled, but my legs felt
>warm.
>
>We ran through an exclusive waterfront neighborhood. People were having
>parties in their yards and were cheering us on. Others had set up
>speakers outside of their doors or inside of open windows to provide
>music. Some people were sitting in folding chairs just watching, but
>saying nothing. I got angry, thinking, "If you're going to be out here,
>CHEER, we're not some kind of freak show." Though, I guess to some we
>sure are. Most of the population wouldn't even attempt one leg of this
>race, and we were all out here doing all three. I know swimmers, cyclists
>and runners, who would take on this distance in their particular sport,
>but very few who will entertain the idea of the combination.
>
>I often hear the questions, "What is your best event?" or "Which is your
>favorite?" My answer to the first is always, "I'm equally mediocre at all
>three, but constantly improving!" My answer to the second is, "Triathlon
>is my favorite sport. The three are not separate sports. They are
>inextricably linked. A race of any single piece of my sport leaves me
>longing for the rest of the event." Then I usually say that the bike leg
>has an extra cool factor, because I LOVE my bike!
>
>At this point in the race I was still happy to have left the saddle
>though. I headed out of town on Lake Coeur d'Alene Drive again, and I
>told myself that I only had to see this section of trow one more time.
>The road was lined with signs that people had made for their athletes, and
>I searched the sea of white plastic for mine. The wind had blown a good
>portion of them over. I did finally locate the one I had made for myself,
>but I never did see the one that Les made.
>
>I kept my pace steady, watching my Garmin to make sure. My legs ached,
>and my knee felt wobbly. At times, I was performing a sort of limping run
>to keep it from giving out altogether. I was happy to feel that despite
>the rain, I was not getting any blisters! I took water at aid stations,
>and I kept drinking from a bottle of perpetum that I was carrying.
>
>The volunteers were playing music, and the first aid station on this
>section had a hippie theme. They also had Mylar blankets!! I eagerly
>accepted one, and within a half mile, wished that I hadn't. I couldn't
>figure out how to keep it around me, while still using my arms in the
>running process. I didn't want to DNF because the Mylar blanket slowed me
>down.
>
>I finally managed to get it tied around my neck like a shiny silver
>superman cape. I though of some of my old crazies from the police dept...
>not the ones I worked with, the ones who wore aluminum foil to keep the
>CIA from reading their thoughts.... I probably looked like one of them.
>
>I was glad that it was June 21, and that daylight would stick around
>until late. If only it was warm. I finally made it to the foot of the
>long hill, at the top of which would be the turn-around. I kept running,
>went around the cone, over the timing mat and started gingerly back down
>the hill, telling my knee to keep holding me up.
>
>I reached the Ford motivation station, and I was looking forward to
>reading Eileen's message, which was, "F-U, Dermataoctapus!" I crossed the
>mat that was supposed to bring my message up on the screen, but nothing
>appeared. Maybe on the second loop...
>
>I was eager to get back to town and see the crowd again. I was looking
>for any inspiration I could get. I thought a lot about the people I knew
>all over the country watching me on the computer... My yoga friends,
>co-coworkers, mom, Eileen, my coach, my bike fitter, my teammates, my
>classmates, Bob and Karie at the RV park, and my other friends at home. I
>told myself not to let them down, but I really didn't want to let me down.
> it was one thing to DNF Bay Swim, and something else to DNF Savageman,
>but Ironman? That would be a devastating thing.
>
>The parties in the neighborhoods were getting bigger and louder as the
>revelers drank more and more. They were funny, and very sweet to try to
>hand us cups of vodka and beer, which I declined to take. I did think of
>my Chimay Grande Reserve in the fridge at the RV...
>
>The spectators on the streets were few in number, even as I moved into
>the heart of town. The fences that had contained hundreds of people
>pressed onto narrow sidewalks now stood in crooked lines, containing no
>more than bits of litter swirling in the ever blowing wind. It was I saw
>Les, who cheered me on, and took pictures that I did not smile for.
>
>I ran down the hill into the park to begin the second loop. I told
>myself that I couldn't quit now, 13.1 miles is nothing! Les ran down the
>hill along the sidewalk and met Corby in the park and the two of them
>cheered me as I limped by. I had to laugh at Les running... especially
>running faster than me! I was glad that he was into the race.
>
>I hadn't been entirely sure of the quality of the idea of taking a three
>week road trip to do an insane endurance race with my ex-husband, but he
>had been helpful, and quite the cheerleader/photographer/race sherpa and
>RV co-pilot. I was grateful that he had come along.
>
>I made my way past the transition area and towards the road work aid
>station, as I approached, the volunteers were calling out what they had to
>offer. I only wanted water, and as I grabbed a cup from the man, he told
>me that they could fix my Mylar blanket to be more useful, and they could
>do it quickly. I agreed, and 4 volunteers surrounded me. One grabbed my
>race belt, two untied my cape, another grabbed scissors and a transparent
>blue trash bag. The one with the scissors cut a head hole in the blanket
>and passed it back to the two who put it over my head, followed
>immediately by the trash bag, into which they tore arm holes. My race
>belt magically reappeared and they all yelled, "GOGOGO!!!"
>
>I started running again, feeling almost immediately warmer. Running in a
>trash bag brought back memories of NOVA championships in crew in my senior
>year on the lightweight eight. To make weight, we embarked on a five mile
>run in late May wearing layer up on layer of winter gear and trash bags.
>After the run we lay in the driveway and allowed our bodies to sweat. I
>had never felt so awful or thirsty in my life, but we vowed not to drink
>anything until after weigh in the next day.
>
>Thinking of dehydration, I checked my Garmin, whose battery was barely
>hanging on, and saw that my pace was dropping little by little. I did some
>quick calculations, and I abandoned my goal of improving on my time and
>decided I just wanted to finish. I had been stopping at porta johns on
>the run, because I was afraid to be wet and cold from peeing on myself now
>that the rain had stopped and the temp was dipping into the low 40s. I
>didn't think I had time to spare for any more breaks, so I decided to stop
>drinking. I knew I would get dehydrated, especially in the trash bag, but
>I knew that I could finish out the last 10 miles without water. I would
>just get to the finish and see if I could get an IV in the medical tent.
>
>After that decision, I completely shut down to anyone outside myself. I
>didn't need the aid stations, the other athletes, or the silent
>spectators. I had already abandoned the idea of meeting another Ironangel
>like Ben from Lake Placid. It was too late for that. This was all me.
>
>My mind thought up elaborate ways for me to cheat my way to the finish,
>which I found funny. If I cheated, the entire experience would become
>worthless. I held fast to my agreement with body and mind though... think
>whatever you want, just keep running.
>
>I ran past the signs, through the aid stations, up the big hill and
>across the timing mat. My Garmin died somewhere around mile 20, and I had
>no idea what time it was. People who were walking were passing me, and I
>felt nothing. I just kept running. 5 miles to go. I can run 5 miles in my
>sleep. One step at a time.
>
>The road was dark and damp. The flood lights were spaced widely, and I
>was reminded of River Rd in Placid. I would not walk here though. A
>volunteer placed an orange glow necklace around my neck as I ran past the
>still paralyzed motivation station. I kept running, finding energy to
>joke a bit with the volunteers who asked what I needed. A medal. That was
>what I needed.
>
>I called out to volunteers, spectators and other athletes, inquiring the
>time. Intense fear gripped me. I knew I was going slowly, though still
>running, and I feared that the hands of the clock were moving much faster
>than my feet. Everyone assured me that I had time, but I did not believe
>them. I was dizzy with dehydration, and I could smell the stench of
>Ironman in a trash bag with every step.
>
>I ended up running next to some girls who were walking who assured me
>that we had time. They were each doing their second Ironman as well.
>They complimented me on my dress, and I joked that it had been custom
>tailored by the volunteers at the road work aid station. They decided to
>run, and left me with the advice to remove the dress prior to my finish
>picture. I said that I wouldn't do that, because this is real. Besides
>there will be more finish pictures to come...many more.
>
>I missed the sign for mile 25, so I was surprised to round a corner and
>see the signs saying 2nd loop right and finish left! A volunteer was
>directing us all towards the finish and announcing that this was it! 7
>blocks! It was nice to really be in the home stretch, because I had been
>ready to punch just about everyone who had announced that I was "almost
>there" or "in the home stretch" for the last 15 miles.
>
>There on Sherman Ave, I could see straight down to the lights, the clock,
>the crowd. People were lining the street on both sides. Music was
>blaring from the finish line and Mike Reilly was calling off the
>finishers!
>
>My pace picked up a bit, and I began to feel what I had been longing for
>all day... all year. The tingle of excitement, the rush of joy...
>Spectators looked at me as if I was some sort of superhero, and they
>stretched out their hands to high five me. I ran faster, unsure if I
>would collapse at the finish or remain standing.
>
>I stepped across the mat that identified me to Mike, so that he could
>announce me. Under the archway that began the finisher's chute, packed
>bleachers on both sides, spectators banging and stomping, cheering wildly,
>reaching for high fives... I don't remember the song, because all I could
>hear was Mike Reilly, calling out, "Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer,
>Jennifer, Jennifer..." and as I stepped onto the final timing mat, " You
>are an Ironman!" I reached my arms up high, perpetum in one hand and two
>fingers held up with the other, signifying the second finish of many.
>16:34:27... Seven minutes and 11 seconds faster than last year.
>
>Two volunteers caught me, got me a shirt, medium.... Someday I'll be fast
>enough to get there while they still have smalls. My medal was placed
>around my neck, a pewter pine tree on a green Ironman ribbon. I was handed
>a finisher hat, and guided to the finisher photo area to pose with my
>medal. At this point, I decided to abandon my homeless costume. I took
>off my finisher's hat from Lake Placid that I had worn for the marathon,
>and held them both up, since I had somehow missed this photo op at
>Placid.
>
>I remained standing, but my legs were very unsure how to walk. I got a
>massage, and decided to forgo an IV in favor of watching the last
>finishers. I barely got back to see the last official finisher, but
>stayed as the clock ran down, and a final Ironman crossed the line in
>17:04:?? I cried for the heartbreak that it must be to miss such a grand
>goal by so little. Another finisher gave this man his medal, since the
>medals are only doled out to those that cross before 17:00:00.
>
>It is difficult not to be disappointed about the finish. I wanted sub 16
>so badly. In better conditions I would have had it. I content myself with
>knowing that, had this cold, windy, rainy day been last year, I would not
>have made it, or at least would have cut it much closer. Placid's balmy
>downpour had nothing on the brutal wind and chill here.
>
>I am heading undaunted into training for the next one. Ironman Arizona
>2010!
>
>There are so many to thank for getting me to another Ironman finish
>line... Mom, for helping me fit it all into my life and for keeping the
>pups while I am gone. My friends who cheer me on in training and races.
>My teammates and friends at Team FeXY, RATS, and Kingstowne Striders for
>the workouts, the socials and inviting me into the fold and sharing your
>knowledge even though I can't keep up with you YET! Les and Corby for
>being there with me! To Rev. Elease who helps me keep things balanced. To
>my IVISD classmates and faculty for lifting me up. To all the people who
>bought guns from me, so that I could afford to get out there and get back
>and get some finisher gear! To my co-workers for taking up the slack while
>I was gone. To Capitol Hill Bikes for the time off, the borrowed Zipps,
>and the paychecks. To Bob at Wheelie Fun for setting me up on my awesome
>road bike, for the encouragement and for the new Veritas TT bike (coming
>soon!!). To Ryan, my coach, who stuck with me through a very personally
>challenging year, who provided the path to another Ironman finish,
>encouraging words, and without whose advice, guidance and generosity I
>would not have been able to do this again. You are all awesome, and to
>those of you who haven't done an Ironman, a little piece of mine belongs
>to you.
>
>
>
>------------------------------------
>
>Yahoo! Groups Links
>
>
>


********************************************************************************\
*******

Erik R. O. Melis
Associate Director
Office of Student Financial Aid, MS 3B5
George Mason University
Fairfax, VA 22030-4444


Past-President (2006-07)
Virginia Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators (VASFAA)

TEL: (703) 993-2356
FAX: (703) 783-0262 (fax directly to my e-mail)
FAX: (703) 993-2350 (standard office fax machine)

Office WEB Address: http://financialaid.gmu.edu


"Perceive it + Believe it + Achieve it = 140.6"

Goal Achieved: Finisher - Ironman USA, Lake Placid, July 2008


~~- ~~~~- ~~
~~- /\o ~~-
~~- ~~~~- ~~

.....__o
.......\<,
....( )/ ( )


,__o
/\,
__/\
' /_

Next Major Goal: Ironman Arizona, November 2009