My tapering period was uneventful, serving as just a short glimpse into life post-ironman. I was expecting it to be sort of a tease - a welcome period of no alarm clock on Saturdays and thirty minute runs. I had built it up in my mind as this magnificent three weeks that I had spent months working to earn. Honestly, it was a disappointment. Sure, it's easier to sleep in than go for a ride on the trainer at 5am, but what is there to gain from that? There's no test of character and commitment when I wake up at my leisure and do short, easy workouts. My whole training period has been defined by constant growth, and it all came to a halt during taper.
During the few days leading up to the race, taper all seemed to make sense. My legs were fresh and I was not mentally exhausted. By Friday, I finally felt ready and could envision myself succeeding. I drove out to Las Vegas with friends and just relaxed. Ironically, in the days leading up to the biggest triathlon I've ever done, the last thing I wanted to talk about was triathlon. I met my brother and on Saturday we picked up my Dad. All of a sudden, things got real and the race was actually about to happen.
Sleeping the night before the race was nearly impossible, but I managed to doze off for an hour or so at a time, and then wake up in a panic. I had been nervous about the hills on the bike for a long time, but the night before, I started to get nervous about everything - the swim start, the swim finish, maintaining motivation the beginning of the bike, getting spooked halfway through the course when I realized I still had to run a marathon. When the alarm went off at 5am, I was still in a frenzy. I hadn't bought everything I wanted for breakfast and I had forgotten to fix my bar tape. Little things I should have taken care of earlier were coming back to haunt me, so I found food and hastily made my way to transition.
Once I took care of my bar tape and pumped my tires, all that stress melted away and I was overcome with a total calmness. I chatted with other athletes getting ready for the long day ahead and basked in the moments leading up to my first ironman. My brother came down the hill and up to the fence of the transition area to see if I had figured everything out. I was just smiling, and told him that today, I was going to do an ironman. I felt incredible.
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| Deep water swim start |
After getting my wetsuit on, I paddled around in the water for a few minutes and got acclimated. I treaded water at the deep water start line for five minutes or so while they played the national anthem and we all prepared ourselves. There was a bridge right over the start, and I looked up to see my family. Waving to them just seconds before the gun went off was so reassuring. From the moment we started, I felt great. I could not have imagined having a better swim. The entire course I felt relaxed and strong, trying to use only my upper body and save my legs for the long day ahead. I was out of the water in 1:18, the 80th fastest swim. I had expected closer to 1:30, so I was all smiles going into T1.
A quick transition and I was on the bike! I couldn't wait to get started on this long course, and I took it really easy in the first five miles to save myself for the next 110. Definitely a good decision. The first 25 miles were beautiful, rolling hills with breathtaking views of Lake Mead and I genuinely enjoyed every minute. I passed a lot of fast swimmers in the first ten miles, which was a huge boost for me. The next 87 miles were harder. The rolling hills miles 25-90 were much steeper and it was hard to maintain momentum. I would be spinning away in the little rings going up, then blasting down at scary speeds. There were some tough headwinds, but it seemed to even out more or less. I also had amazing course support. Between the USC Triathlon Team and my family, I saw someone at least every ten miles. Everyone else on the course was jealous of my rowdy fan club.
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| Big desert, small triathlete |
Had the last 22 miles on the bike been like the previous 90, it would be a hard course. But Silverman is a brutal course. At mile 92, we turned onto a desolate desert bike path - literally just sand and power lines stretching for miles and miles. I reached the dreaded Three Sisters - three consecutive 18% grade climbs, of 200-600 yards each - and was happy to put them in my rear view mirror. The next five miles were straight into a strong headwind and on a false flat path. It is incredibly demoralizing to feel like you're on flat ground but struggle to maintain 10mph. With 10 miles to go, we turned onto the road again and a few rolling hills later, made our way to transition. I have never been more ready to get out of the saddle. I had been hoping to be around 7:30 for this tough course, and I came in at 7:14, the 110th fastest split.
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| Out of T2 |
Off for a quick run. The first six miles were very smooth – I stopped at every other aid station and maintained a decent shuffle up and down the hills. I saw Kevin around mile 5 and I was still smiling – “There’s something wrong with you! You shouldn’t be smiling” he yelled. But I felt great, at least for a little while. The sun was setting and the magnitude of the twenty-six mile run hadn’t really sunk in yet. But I knew that in a few miles, I would be digging really deep, and I would have to find that strength in me to finish even when it hurt a lot. Knowing that there were tough miles to come, I focused hard on eating a Gu whenever I could and having Gatorade at every aid station I could stop at. I was tackling hill after hill, wondering when they would end. By the time I reached the eighth mile, I realized that there were going to be no flat parts. I hadn’t really been sure about the run course before since I hadn’t had time to drive it. This was a depressing realization and I hit a wall. I walked for maybe 100 yards then told myself to just make it to the halfway point then reassess. I saw the whole fan club and got a huge rush of adrenaline. Get through Mile 15. Then you can walk. I kept powering through and met up with a running buddy for about a mile. He was walking when I caught him, so I pushed him to run. When we reached a hill just after Mile 15, he started walking again, so I did too. It only took a few strides for me to realize that if I started walking I would never stop. By this point, it was completely dark and I really had no perception of where the course, went. I was just following the cones and trusting the mile markers.
By the end of an ironman, going down hurts more than going up. I saw my team every single mile, which provided a lot of motivation. With five miles to go, I realized I would definitely make it, and I started to get emotional. Unfortunately, I couldn't sustain the faster pace I started running at Mile 21, so I had to slow down for the last 2.
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| Trying to keep up with my running buddy Jason |
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| Into the chute! |
In the pitch dark, with only a glowstick for visibility, having exercised for 13 and a half hours, I saw the finish line. I had been in a good mood all day, always smiling for my team and family, but my happiness was literally unbounded as I ran my final meters to the chute. Crossing the line, breaking the tape, throwing my arms up in victory, I couldn't help but cry. 13:34:08. 1st Female 20-24, 6th Female Overall, 84th Overall.
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| Kevin and I at the finish, on the phone with Mom |
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| The proud father |
Hugging my brother, my dad, and my amazing teammates, and crying to my mom on the phone, I could feel the shared joy of the moment. I can say without any hesitation that that was the best moment of my life. I took a risk last Sunday. I have never worked so hard for something in my life, and yet I still went in not knowing if I could do it. Six months of training preceded this. There were a lot of sacrifices in those months, a lot of soul-searching, a lot of prioritizing. I don't think I have ever put six months of my life into anything like this. I know it's sickeningly cliché, but it's true - nothing worth having every came easy. Nobody can ever take that day away from me. Last Sunday, I became iron. No... SILVER.
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| Joy. |
Last Sunday, I went 140.6 miles and learned that people don't have limits.
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