Race Report: Wake-Up to Swim

It's high time I get to this race report. Tim wrote his race report more than two weeks ago, but again, because he likes to fly below the radar, that write-up won't hit this blog...yet.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

I didn't sleep well the night before the race. I was anxious, excited, nervous, worried I'd over-sleep. So when the alarm finally rang at 3:45am, Tim and I both jumped out of bed, thankful that we could get our morning routine started.

A few minutes after waking up, we were both eating breakfast. I ate my usual - yogurt with granola and sliced banana. I also ate two pieces of toast, smothered in almond butter. Tim made delicious coffee in our french press we brought from home. I drank my coffee while reading the Going Long chapter "What to Expect on Race Day." The last-minute cramming helped me focus on the long day ahead.

At 4:45am, we left the hotel and drove down Scottsdale Boulevard to the race. We turned the volume up on a few Kings of Leon and Aerosmith songs during the drive, anything to pump us up. Once in Tempe, we headed for the US Airways building, where all athletes were allowed to park. We unloaded our bags from Tim's truck and made our way to transition. The morning was dark and cold - and packed with people.

The morning was also busy. We dropped off our special needs bags, checked our bike and run bags, checked our bikes, put air in our tires, dropped off our water bottles - there wasn't much time to freak out because we were on the move. I did freak out about my timing chip (see my 11/23 post for the full story). But once my "replacement" chip was firmly velcroed around my ankle, the countdown to the swim start was on. Tim and I got in line for the porta-potties and made use of the wait to eat a Gu (me) and a Roctane (Tim). We also put on BodyGlide and our wetsuits.

And then, all of a sudden, we had about 15 minutes before the swim start. We quickly found Tim's mom, gave her our tri bags, put on cheap grocery store socks we had purchased the day before, and made our way to the lake. Mike Reilly (aka my Ironman boyfriend) was working the mic at this point...and the music was booming. The pros were off at 6:50am. They hit the swim hard. The line that Tim and I were in began to move as the age groupers headed into the water. We threw our socks in a pile of discarded clothing, kissed each other goodbye and good luck and jumped into the (freezing) 63 degree water. We had about a hundred yard swim to the actual start. Tim swam ahead while I found a spot near the middle of the pack. Mike Reilly was still working the mic...saying something like, "At the end of today, you are going to be an Ironman!" I took a minute to look around me and soak up the moment: There I was, about to race Ironman Arizona...an Ironman!

Bang. The gun went off. Boom. Two thousand-plus athletes hit the water.

My mom's big fear for the day was that I would "get drowned" during the lake swim. Not that I would drown, but "get drowned." She pictured 2,400 people swimming right on top of me for the full 2.4 miles. She made me promise to be careful and "stay alive out there." And if I had to guess, I'd say that her fists were clenched and her blood pressure was sky high and a million Rosaries were prayed during the entire swim.

So my mom was thrilled to see that I survived the swim. I actually felt really good during the swim (I knew then that the taper had worked); amazingly, it didn't seem like I was in the water all that long (even though I was for one hour and 15 minutes). I got banged up in the beginning - about four people hit my head, seven others kicked me, one big dude kept swimming into me (I could go on, but I won't). But for the most part, I kept my pace and my mind strong. And I got to watch the sun come up in between strokes.

Finally, I saw the stairs at the end of the swim. I swam and swam until my fingers touched the first stair. I felt two arms grab me - volunteers were pulling me out of the water. I stumbled up the rest of the stairs and down the carpeted sidewalk. I stopped in front of another volunteer to get my wetsuit stripped. Once my wetsuit was yanked off, I ran with it around the changing tents and into transition. Before I reached transition though, I made the mistake of looking down at my feet. They were purple. And they felt like frozen stumps. I decided not to think about my feet or how cold I was, and I found a volunteer inside the changing tent to help me into my bike outfit.

Next post - Race Report: The Bike!