Swim (1.2; 00:47:36): This was a two-loop course around a lake. I did a much better job of sighting in this race than in the Olympic I did just two weeks before, but the start wave was larger so I had a bit of maneuvering to do and was smacked around a bit more. Since I started in the 7th out of 9 waves it gave me an opportunity to pass a few swimmers who started before me, which gave me a boost of confidence. A few people in wave 8 passed me by, but none in wave 9. One of my concerns was that I would forget to do the second loop and head in for shore a loop early. There was no need to fret. It was pretty obvious when I lifted my head and took a look around. When I finished the swim and was running up the hill to the transition area Lou told me that I had finished pretty much when I said I would.
Bike (56; 3:35:53): The ride was mostly great. Because I started at the end of the pack I found myself riding alone a lot. I was just starting to think how lonely the ride was when the first of a two-loop section began. I wasn’t lonely long. In fact, I thought I must have been crazy to want to ride in the path of the elites. They rode past me so fast they were a blur. I needn’t have worried about whether I’d hear them in time to get out of their way. The fancy tires they use made a loud whooshing noise you couldn’t miss. Nutritionally everything went as planned until around mile 30 when my stomach cramped up pretty badly and stayed cramped most of the rest of the ride. I believe this was due to inadvertently eating bigger pieces of energy bar than I planned, forgetting to eat at one of the fifteen minute intervals, and switching to the course-provided Gatorade when the Nuun I brought ran out. Normally I don’t drink Gatorade unless its watered-down by at least half because its hard on my stomach.
Run (13.1; 2:36:06): My legs felt stiff and heavy off the bike but I felt like I had enough left in me to go the distance. The day before the race Lou and me rode the route to get an idea of the hills in store for me. I remember thinking that they didn’t look too bad. Not like the hills I train on at home. It turns out the hills in Maine are insidious. I had nothing left after this run. Not a thing. I ended up walking up the steeper parts of the hills. I never once thought of stopping, but I did let negative thoughts creep into my head around mile six, especially when I saw that I wasn’t going to finish in the time I had estimated. It was then that I saw a physically challenged man running towards me on the first loop and said to myself, “suck it up, Ginger. If he can do it, you have no excuses.” So I sucked it up and kept running. When I neared the finish line I could hear that the awards ceremony was over and that people were packed up and driving out of the lot. It felt terrible to be coming in so slow, so after I crossed the finish line and my timing chip was removed I grabbed hold of my wonderful waiting husband and cried my eyes out. They were chest wracking tears of joy, pride, pain, relief, and disappointment: joy that it was over, pride that I finished my first attempt; pain that I felt in my legs and feet; relief that it was over; and disappointed that it was harder and took longer than I imagined. In spite of how difficult this experience was, I feel lucky to have the physical stamina to complete such an endeavor with just a few aches for two days following. I also feel lucky to have married a man who supports me wholeheartedly and spent almost the entire weekend looking after my needs and cheering me on at every point. Will I do this race again? Probably not the Pumpkinman, but definitely a half Ironman somewhere.
Super great write-up. I appreciated the shout-out as well. Hopefully see you soon at another race. What’s up next for you?
Hi John, My next and last adventure for 2012 will be running my very first marathon on 11/18 in an inaugural race in Plymouth, MA. Good luck with your upcoming one as well.