I had been going back and forth between home and Tallahassee, for work, over the last two weeks. I was feeling tired, especially tired of sleeping in a bed that isn't mine. But this is the hand we were dealt, so we made the best of things. I had prepacked gear for the trip, and given some weather changes, I sent Patrick a list for "extras". Patrick picked me up in Tallahassee and we headed down to Ocala. Ocala is nice and quite, but for some reason our hotel was always short of parking spaces, something we would face each night- but ultimately not a big deal.
Before leaving we studied the swim course, the water was cold and I wasn't going in for a 2.4 mile swim without my wetsuit. For others it is about the buoyancy and speed from the wetsuit, for me it is about warmth.
We also dropped off bikes.
We were up at 0400 and at the race site by 0500. Gear set into place, including placing bike clothing in the wash house outside of the swim and before transition. Unlike IM they didn't have a changing tent or people to help you change. This ended up not being a deal breaker by any means. With gear set I decided on the full wetsuit, I maybe should have toughed out the sleeveless. We headed out to the water's edge for one more briefing and then the start.
The sun was breaking over the water. Since the water was warmer than the air a lite steam rose up about 2 feet off the water. There were 225 people taking to the water this morning. This was the largest group I have ever had start at one time. In wave starts there are normally 20 to 30. The race sort of started without much warning. It was 5...4...3...2...1...GO!!! All 225 of us took off into the water, elbows, knees, heads, and toes colliding. It was a little crazy. I was in the front middle of the pack, where there was a lot of touching at the start. It took about the first half of that length to get out from people pushing back and forth and to find a calm rhythm. One thing I began to notice, and would play in my head through out the race, was the half people starting to get out of the water. Given that I was already towards the front of the field, as the half iron people exited the water and the fulls made the buoy turn to go back out it was clear today I would be alone! The pack didn't narrow, it disappeared. I could see in front of me a few breaks in the water, illuminated by the sun light. One guy joined me for most of the second lap. While I was glad to not be alone; my buddy continued for the first leg of the loop to swoop towards the middle and then back at me. I came close to making him stop and look at me so I could tell him to stay three feet off my side and I will spot! But I didn't, I simply kept him and the buoy in site and sped up when I saw him coming at me; after the buoy turn he seemed to learn and stayed just off my side. (He would go on to fly on the bike and run.)
I made it to shore to the race director announcing the first female in from the swim. As he was standing there yelling this I was looking around to try to see her before realizing it was in fact me who was the first female out of the water. I was proud of myself in that moment. Shoulder tight, hip aching, I was still in front.
I quickly headed to the bath house to change clothes. While in there a lady came in with her daughter. The daughter proclaimed she really needed "to go". The mother was telling her to hurry up because "daddy would be coming out of the water soon" and they didn't want to miss him. About the third hurry up the little girl said, "Mommy don't rush me!!" I couldn't help but laugh at that moment.
After changing clothes and gathering my wet items I ran into the official transition area. Again the transition announcer noted me as the first woman out of the water. I heard other ladies yelling "whoo who" and clapping from the side lines. I dropped my things in the nice cubbys (love these); I packed my tri top with food supplies; and I left my ibuprofen- a mistake that would make the struggle of 112 miles that much more difficult.
The course being two loops was fine until the first loop came all the way back to the transition area. There it was, it lit up welcoming you, but no I was destined to head out again. I could also see the half iron competitors running in the woods. Knowing those would not be my footsteps for a few more hours was a little heart breaking.
The other challenge on the course was the traffic. Cars, trucks, trailers, 18-wheelers, and motorcycles all flew past us, many not giving up much space. With the shoulder a no go for most of the course, it made it very scary when the trucks darted back over not far off the front tire. On one occasion a truck with extended mirrors passed so close to me I could feel the air deflected from his mirrors. A few yelled some not so nice things.
Thankfully also on the course was a great volunteer support. They were set up at miles 14, 28, 42, 56 (and repeat). They all were smiling, all day long; not easy as the sun began to bake. They helped cyclist on or off the bikes at "pit stops". When I reached the turn around at 56 miles, I jumped off my bike to use the porta potty. While in there they pulled my race bag for me, and starting asking what I needed refilled on my bike. When I came out of the bathroom I had my water refilled, my bag opened, and was quickly headed back out. As I pushed off they cheered!!! On my final turn around the support staff was happy and helpful once again, cheering and giving words of encouragement. My mistake of leaving the ibuprofen would cause my hips to tighten even more; there was limited relief form standing to pedals but it was just enough to push through. My bike took longer than I had hoped, but given conditions and (my choices) on limited winter training, I was happy to just get it done.
There was one moment on the bike that I totally misread. Patrick was headed out on his first loop as I was headed back from the first turn around. He yelled at me that we needed to talk. I took this to mean we needed to talk later- either about my packing for him or items he needed. I didn't think this meant to talk now and I didn't stop to notice that he was stopping to talk. We passed again as I headed back out and he headed to the 56 mile turn around. What I didn't know was he was calling his race day at the 56 miles. As I made the turn around on mile 84 I looked at my watch, knowing I should see Patrick in roughly 30 to 45 minutes, headed back out the other direction. He didn't come back by. At mile 102 I asked if the ambulance had been called to the course, nothing recent. I pedaled on worried about what had happened. My mind thought of every bad outcome. I pulled in to transition my heart heavy and saw him standing there near the Run Out. I have never in my life been happier to see him. He walked over to the fence as I was yelling to ask if he was ok; he responded that physically and mentally he was ok. What I hadn't known was, pretty much from the word GO, Patrick was in pain from cramping. He had cramped up on the swim and felt the wetsuit had made things worse, pushing and pulling on his body in unplanned ways. Then when they helped to pull the wetsuit off the rest of his leg and abs cramped. He got out on to the bike thinking this would get better but that failed to happen. His body continued to lock up and to lock him out. Adding to his physical stat, he also fought the traffic problems and felt the safety threat. He finished the swim and 56 miles on the bike and called it a day. He rested and hydrated and was there with a smile as I came into the transition area.
And don't worry Patrick and I had a long discussion on the meaning and confusion over the "we need to talk" statement.
The course was four loops, but the loops could be broken into two sections; therefore it was eight sections. I counted them down- 1 left, 1 right, 2 left, 2 right, and so on. The best part of this race course was each time I got to where the sections met there was Patrick. As an athlete he was offering help to others as they came by, as my husband athlete he knew just what I needed and when. He guessed my needs and he was good at this guessing game. I got half way into the marathon before it started to get dark. It was literately like watching a cartoon, one minute it was light out, the next dark. Sune up, moon up. The moon was out which you would think would be nice, and it was, until it caused shadows in the moss that was already blowing in the wind. CREEPY! The athletes still on the course were fewer and fewer. I ran with a buddy for a loop here or there but nothing consistent. I talked to a guy from Atlanta for nearly the whole second loop. He is married, has a kid, parents live in Ft. Lauderdale, mother in law was there for the event, missing the father daughter dance, uncle is going, has three nephews, had several car accidents, nearly died doing triathlon; this is what we talk about after miles on the course to get us through a few more miles. On the second section of my third loop there was a guy hurting as bad as me and just as scared to be out in the dark- there were some very big things in those woods. He stayed with me for my head lamp and wasn't much for chatting but he was a nice buddy. He got his own head lamp at the turn around and aid station and then dropped back. I already knew I would spend my finial lap alone and in the dark. I also would be spending it cold- not too cold as Patrick got my long sleeve thermal run shirt out for me!!!
It was a different and very positive experience to have Patrick there. While he was helping others, with lights and some extra protein shakes, he was helping me by simply being there. He was always smiling and would run a few steps with me, sending me off on my next loop. He gave me encouragement, told me how many miles to go, and patted me on the back. It was what I needed, especially as my hips locked a little more and my mind started to flood with thoughts of what it would mean to finish this race, this distance, again. The hardest portion was the last four miles. I was tight and hurting, really hurting. I was headed out on my last second section. This was it, I was soon to be done. And what happens, had to pee!! I had been watching this bath house for the entire marathon, it looked nice, clean, in the middle of no where, moss blowing in the wind creating moon lit shadows all around, and a creepy sign eeekkkking outside- yep perfect stop. It was actually a really nice facility. The problem was not the quality of the restroom, it was the factor that my legs would not bend and when they did I wasn't sure they would support me to stand up again. Here I was 3 miles from the finish line stuck in the bathroom. I wasn't even sure if my voice could yell loud enough, then I wasn't sure who would show up if I did, then I simply didn't want to be found on a bathroom floor in the middle of the woods during a race. I guess that was enough to motivate me to push my legs and body up. Back on my feet there was little time for victory, only time to get going again. I made it to the aid station again and then back pass the bathroom- I wasn't going in there again.
At this point I could hear a few people in front of me and a few behind me. My mind kept saying go, keep going. Then my mantra started: Be Positive, Stay Strong, Press On. One of the volunteers yelled down the path, "Is that you Teresa?" I yelled back that it was. She reminded me to take off the over shirt for the perfect finish photo. I laughed as I had already followed Patrick's directions and taken it off a few yards earlier. She took the shirt and cheered me on. She was the last push I needed, a few kind words of encouragement from a stranger.
The finish line was not packed with people, but in that moment I only needed one person and he was there. Patrick was standing just past the finish line, smiling. Oh how I had missed him. The past few weeks had been long, this day has been long, this moment was amazing. Patrick hugged me, maybe he was having to hold me up, but either way his arms were wrapped around me. Patrick put my medal over my head and wrapped me in his arms again. My heart and sould could not have been happier. In that moment my body no longer hurt. I could only feel him, no pain, no cold, no nothing, just him. To share that moment was amazing. I talk a lot about Patrick being my rock and my support but this was more ture in this moment, I could physical and emotional feel the support and love. 
Even though this was the second time I would cross the line at this distance it was an emotional moment more so because Patrick was there in that moment. It continues to take time to process this entire event. From seeing Patrick end is day early to finishing my second iron distance race, the emotional state has been a lot to decipher. To top it off to place as the second overall female was beyond belief. Looking back on the whole experience I am still not sure I fully understand how I feel about it. I still want to just cry when thoughts of this race fill my head. I find myself thinking about it through training runs or times sitting on the couch. I find that while my body knows I did it my head is still trying to understand the what and how and why; while my heart is trying to understand how someone could love me through it all.
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