Held Together by Screws: Ironman 70.3 Florida: The Run

Ironman 70.3 Florida Swim: Done. Not how I had planned, but done.

Ironman 70.3 Florida Bike: Done. Not how I had planned, I lost two water bottles, blew one tire, but done.

Ironman 70.3 Florida Run: 13.1 miles from the finish line.

I racked my bike, grabbed my race belt and headed to the portapotty. I seriously had to pee. I was drinking water on the bike but I wasn't sweating it out as much as I should have been. I was being beat down by the overhead sun, but at that point and time I thought "I have to pee." I ended up being in transition for 5:57 which included the portapotty break and stopping to have a volunteer lather me up in sunscreen. All in all, not the most amount of time I could have spent in transition.

And there I was passing my parents for the first of three times. Well technically two. The first two loops I'd pass them and then the third loop I'd see them in the finish chute. Yes that lady passed me. Yes I'm barely running. And yes I had just started the run. And I'm just now realizing and noticing again the palm trees. I raced on a course with palm trees. Very much so like Dororthy telling Toto they weren't in Kansas anymore. I very much so was not in Illinois anymore.

My plan on the run was to get through it. My best half marathon time prior was 2:42:59. I had already mentally planned that I'd most likely add a half hour to that. I had planned that since the course was three loops that made the aid stations almost every mile. This was perfect. If I needed water I could get it and not have to carry anything with me. I had factored in that the sun was directly overhead. I was in Florida where the heat was different. I had just biked 56 miles. And there was a hill.

Oh that mother fucking hill that made me its bitch three times. There I said it.

That flat stretch. That hill. THREE TIMES. No amount of hill interval training I did prepared me for that. My first go at it I did try to get up it while still running. If you'd call it running. It was more like ruwalking. I walked. I tried to run it, but I was wearing myself out and frankly no one else around me was running either. Not that I'm using their actions as my reasoning but some of those people were on their third loop, I was only on my first loop. And they too were walking.

The thing about that hill ... once you get to the top it flattens out and then there's an additional hill. That happens twice before you make a turn to head through the neighborhoods. In researching Ironman 70.3 Florida I had read that the community embraces the race. I mean, I guess you sorta have to when parts of the town and community are shut down for people out for a 13.1 mile Sunday run.

The aid stations though, those people were great. Pretty much I just wanted to get through that run and the first time I passed the first aid station I thought "I have to see these people two more times still." Those people, great. Ready with water, food, high-fives, costumes on, loud music, and cheering for every dang person going through. Those rolling hills I read about the race weren't described well at all, but the out pouring support of the community: nailed it.

I continued on the run and I just kept telling myself "I'm just running a few miles through a neighborhood." Essentially that's what I was doing. I think it helped me mentally make it through that I wasn't running 13.1 miles straight, I was running a little over 4 miles at a time. Yes, this falls into the category of "Lies I Tell Myself."

And near the back quarter of the first loop there's the backside of a lake. The "Hey, I just swam in the lake next to that lake!" I knew this because I could hear the finish line festivities. I digress. The backside of a lake. That's where I saw a sign that said "Do Not Feed or Approach Gators."

Uh, Gators?

Cause, sure, it's Florida, Gators make sense. What hit me was "Uh, if there's a gator warning on the backside of the Lake next to the Lake I just swam in a few hours ago ... uh, I swam with gators."

Onward and upward I thought. I mean I had made it through the swim gator free, I made it through the bike gator free, and only had two more loops of the run to make it through gator free. I definitely wasn't in Illinois anymore, Toto.

As I made it back to the transition area to complete my first loop I noticed something. People were still out on their bikes! I wasn't the last person out there! Ok, I knew that I wasn't the last person out there since I was passing people on the run. But something about seeing people just coming in on the bike knowing they had to run 13.1 miles and I had already ran over 4. I got some pep in my step.

I had pep in my step until I got to that hill again. And here's the thing about that hill. You've went up two other in-neighborhood hills before you get to that one. And once again I trekked up it like I was hiking Everest, but really, Everest would be less sunny and I wouldn't be wearing the same spandex outfit for over 6 hours.

I passed through my aid stations, thanking everyone once again. I ran by the houses where people were just sitting in their front yard in chairs with music playing and their sprinklers on in case you wanted to run through them. I made it by the gator sign for the second time and no gators. I had one loop left.

I wanted to badly to blow through those last few miles. Truth be told, I went through them, no faster than my previous miles. Along the way through the 13.1 miles I did have to walk some. In part I felt my skin becoming the same temperature as the surface of the sun. Eventually it was painful to move. I continued to hear people cross the finish line. I was getting closer. I was tired. I was so tired. I started to slow down. I met up with two other runners who were going the same (slow) speed as me and we formed a pack. A slow pack. A pack of mules probably was faster than us at that time.

Our little pack included Darin. And Darin's wife and son were spectating. Thank goodness for them. They started running next to us on the course. She was carrying her flip flops running through the grass yelling at Darin to "Get Your Ass In Gear!" Bless Darin's wife, she motivated me to get my own ass in gear and I broke away from my pack of slow running mules.

I saw transition. That meant I had one slight corner to go around and then I would make the turn for the finish chute. That meant I had finished. I ran through the chute, my mom getting every step of my finish, including me running the MDot Carpet.