Escape from Alcatraz: An Amaizng Journey (Teresa's)

As an athlete there are races which when you see them or hear about them for the first time, you think, "I want to do that one."  The Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon was one such race.  When we started racing triathlon Patrick told me, "I want to do the Escape from Alcatraz race."  There were a few things to overcome before being ready for this race: 1) Being more comfortable with triathlon; 2) I wanted to race an Ironman (sometimes I get first pick); 3) we had to be prepared for the lottery system.  

San Fransisco

At 4 years into our triathlon story we felt ready to take on this challenge.  On 01 September 2014, I entered us into the lottery.  We waiting till 06 October 2014 for the first lottery drawing.  We had decided that if one of our names was on that list we were going to San Francisco, if it was ONLY one of our names the other person would be there as a support-- HAPPILY.  The lottery list didn't come out till midday.  I quickly scrolled to the bottom of the list to find Patrick's name; I wanted to make sure he was on the list.  I scanned to the bottom with my eyes closed.  There was his name!!!  Holy cow he was in!!!  My heart was beating fast, the excitement was almost too much to bear.  A few deep breaths, time to scroll back up.  Slowly this time I moved towards the middle of the list.  Then I saw it, my name!!!  Holy cow number 2!!!  I was on the list!!!  WE WERE ON THE LIST!!!! 

Talked to the locals.

Toes in the Pacific

That was how it all started.  
We decided to travel to San Francisco and spend more time there prerace in order to adjust to the time change and weather.  It was an amazing trip- we saw the redwoods, saw the beach, stood in the Pacific Ocean, travels to Alcatraz, saw whales, talked to sea lions, watched harbor seals, gasped at windsurfers and hang gliders, and got to see every bit of what San Fransisco and the surrounding areas are famous for; well, most of it.  In addition to the touristing we did, we also got to spend some family time with my uncle and aunt.  That was one of the best parts of this trip. 

Alcatraz in the Back

While we got to see and do and experience so much in California we were out there for a reason- to Escape from Alcatraz.  
First let me say this race is like no other.  It is not a normal distance.  It is long, cold, and challenging swim.  It is a short and difficult bike.  It is a running course with varied terrain.

Practice Swim

Race Morning

To make matters more challanging the weather took a change from what it had been in the days prior to the race.  It was beautiful weather, sunny skies, no fog, mild temperatures, in the leading up to the race, so when to fog rolled in as we ferried out to anchor beside the island it was a little nerve racking.  Given that we could not see the siting points this adventure's adventurousness just got elevated. The goal of the swim was simple for me- don't pass the swim exit, don't reach the Golden Gate Bridge, don't find the Ocean.  Those were all deemed as bad things. Upon jumping into the water the cold was a quick rush; my body quickly went to doing what it does best- swim, arm over arm and breathe.  The land seemed to move without me moving; like an Infinity pool at an IMax.  It was strange and didn't compute in my beach swimming mind.  

What we should have seen!!

Swim exit

I watched the crowds of people shifting around me.  They would go left then right.  I stayed in my spot focused only on the land I could see.  From the water level it seemed I could see a little more of the land and was able to make out a few of the siting points.  I knew I was close as I started to make out the white tents of transition, of course it took me a few spotting efforts in order to realize what these white things were.  To me this meant it was time, time to push the final push towards shore.  I hit the beach as the fog horn from the bridge seem right on top of me.  The good news was I hit the beach dead on center!  Bad news I had very little fine motor skills in my hands. 

Out of the water!

It was a half mile run to the transition area. I had on my booties and decided to run it in without changing.  Turns out this was not a bad choice.  I felt good on the run.  My wetsuit and some taping kept my knee secured and running in the wetsuit warmed me up a little.  Transition was "interesting" given the lack of finger mobility.  I pulled on my arm warmers with balled up hands, tucked hand warmers under my tri suit, slipped into my biking shoes, and away I went. 

Not on the course, but should have been

The bike was my biggest fear, the tall climbing and the fast down hills.  There were times it felt like we climbed just to climb more.  Reaching the top of the hill was a lot like making it to the top of the rollercoaster- your heart is pounding, you are shaking, and then whoosh you are dropped onto the other side. Going down hill it is hard to not to tap on your breaks.  You want to fly but you don't want to fly into the pavement.  This was not like riding at home, hills are different than wind.  It is a game on the hills, a push and pulling game.
It may no have been like home but then there was a moment when I knew I belonged on this course on this day- the moment was as I came down the Great Highway (mile 6.5), the road was fast and the left turn even faster but the road opened up to the Pacific Ocean.  The waves crashing against the sand and spraying a mist of salt into the air.  This was home, home was here, and I know how to ride at home.  Over the next 12 miles I pushed up hill and screamed "WoooHoooo" down hill.  It was still a rough ride with rough roads at times, but the views and the fire in my legs made my heart sing! 

Headed Out

From the climb up the last hill I got one more glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge, again she blew her horn.  This time I could see the tops of her towers above the fog and her legs set upon the water.
One more transition, slipping on knee braces and tennis shoes- this time things were easier as I could use my hands.  I was done with my arm warmers and my hand warmers.  

Sand Ladder

In the run my legs felt every mile of the bike course.  The terrain changed and changed often- gravel path, stairs, pavement, asphalt, trail, soft sand, hard sand, sandy hills, and repeat!  The run held amazing views and amazing people.  I had a guy come up behind me, "nice hardware".  He was pointing out my knee braces and went on to note that he had new hardware on the inside.  We talked a little about the course wear and tear on our joints; however, we love it.  I ran with a woman who I spoke with about the Gavel Girlz team and our mission with Favor House.  
I thought the Sand Ladder was going to be the hardest thing of the run; however, it was the soft sand leading out to the beach and up to the Sand Ladder which caused problems with my knee.  In this soft sand I simply focused on the water. I was glad to make it up the sand ladder and back onto the trail and stairs (even though down hill hurts).    

DONE!!!!  We ESCAPED!!!

My Uncle Loren- cheered all week.

Again the fog horn of the Golden Gate called out, it led us out on to the course and it called us back to the finish.
The finish line was a welcomed site.  It was a site less than 2000 athletes would see this day, but it was there in front of me.  In was mine.  This race will forever be a favorite.  It will forever be different.  And it will forever be imprinted in my soul.  One day I will come back here and the challenge will be accepted again!           

Escape from Alcatraz - Patrick's Perspective

I can thank my infatuation with Alcatraz island to my dad (and Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay). Circa summer of 1998, we watched The Rock almost daily. It is easily the best Nick Cage movie ever, and a great extension of Sean Connery's Bond persona. I hoped one day to visit.

I'm lucky enough to participate in Triathlon events with my wife. Because of this, I pick some races and she picks some. Escape from Alcatraz was my choice from the beginning. I found out about it shortly after we learned about triathlon, and after four years of practice and training at varying distances, we decided it was time to hit the West Coast.
 

Wow, what a view over-looking the bay, bridge and city.

San Francisco was a great place to visit. With family in the area, we had an awesome place to stay, knowledgeable tour guide, and efficient chauffeur. Much of the usual stress of being in a new place melted away. The climate was a lot nicer with cooler temperatures and virtually no humidity. The only complications seemed to be STEEP HILLS and COLD WATER. We did a swim days before the event to get acclimated and honestly, the water was not as bad as I expected. Yes. It was cold, but it was comfortable in a wetsuit.

We were on the perfectly good boat.
The island was about all we could see,
and we were swimming away from it.

Swim: The morning of the race we climbed aboard the big boat and set out toward Alcatraz. As we were standing by the windows enjoying the view of the water and listening to the National Anthem, thick fog rolled in and covered most of our landmarks for sighting. The crazy current was still visible. We were in line to jump off the bow, but that line wasn't moving so we were directed toward the stern where there was literally NO LINE, NO WAITING. Teresa jumped first, narrowly avoiding an athlete who decided to NOT swim immediately. I jumped next and we were off.

Swim exit to a short 1/2 mile run to transition.

Coming into transition.

I'd argue that the swim could have been done without boots. I decided against a thermal cap and went with only the silicone swim cap. The first plunge was cold, but the wetsuit did it's job. This was the weirdest swim I've ever done. The entire time I would sight something on shore and swim my heart out toward that landmark while the current pushed me parallel to the shore. It was like being in an infiniti pool. Forward movement was hard to discern, but I kept going and before I knew it, I could see the exit. I "skillfully" beached in the correct place without assistance. It was a great swim and my favorite part of the race. I didn't get the view of the city or the bridge I had hoped, but I did see Alcatraz Island while swimming in the bay. It was mysterious and spooky as it was shrouded in fog.

Top of Legion of Honor hill going out.

Bike: The rest of the race went slowly. I was confident on the bike through the first hill, then, not-so-much. This was the longest, slowest 18 mile bike I've had, literally. I fought every mile. I stayed ahead of the SAG wagon and finished in the allotted time. My performance was not pretty. The views of the city, bridge, bay, and Alcatraz Island were breathtaking. A lot of the other cyclists missed this part. As I was at mile 13, the fog started to clear. The Golden Gate Bridge appeared as I was cresting Legion of Honor Hill and making my way back to transition. WOW. As I got closer to transition, the rest of the weather burned off. It was great for the scenery but made my run hotter. It was completely worth it. I made it back to transition without assistance.

Coming out of Golden Gate Park, checking for a sharp turn.

6.5 miles to go.

Run: I wanted to catch up with anyone so I set my sights and worked my way up a little. Everyone was in great spirits. Volunteers and support stations were AWESOME. My hamstrings were on the verge of cramping for the entire run. If one twinged I would walk a little. This began on the bike and plagued me the entire run. I worked my way across Chrissy Field, up some stairs by Golden Gate Park, up some hills, along some trails. I crested the main climbing section at Baker Beach and headed down toward the beach. For me, this section was the worst and made the Sand Ladder seem easy. After the Sand Ladder, it was down hill. Again the views were breath-taking. My hamstrings didn't like the downhill at all. I had to take all the stairs down very slow or I would cramp. I was taking in salt and electrolytes at every opportunity. I even had one woman offer to "call someone" for me at mile 5.5. I told her I only had 2 miles to go. I'd be fine. I was until mile 7 of 7.5. I was feeling good and wanted to finish so I was quickening my pace. I tripped over a rock and the jolt locked up my leg. I couldn't move forward or stand up straight. I worked it out and got moving again. I finished just under the wire.

2 Miles to go.

It was the hardest Triathlon I've ever done physically, but the easiest mentally. I had a great time and would do it again in a heart-beat. I would also train a lot more on the bike, but that is normal for me as the cycling is my weakest event. I will say this, the atmosphere of the race was spot on. The staff and volunteers were top-notch. If you ever have the chance, DO IT.

Holding hands on Alcatraz.

Teresa and I, FINISHED.

It was a hard road, but Teresa and I made the Escape from Alcatraz!

Afterwards, we bought a lot of chocolate. A LOT.

2015 Course Details.

Spreading the Word of Favor House, 2000 miles away

On the race course there are many stories.  We all hit the pavement for our own reasons, to face our own demons, to challenge ourselves to our own limits.  While I value and hold dear my journey to and on the course, nowadays I get to also serve a different purpose on the course.  I get to be a member of a team with a purpose.  Our purpose is not about who is the fastest or who is has the most medals, instead it is about a loyalty to the sport, to the other athletes, and to the cause which we serve.  The cause we serve is printed on our kits and in each of our hearts, the Gavel Girlz team serves to support our local domestic violence shelter- Favor House.  
This cause is very dear to me as I work in a field in my day to day job which has a direct relationship with this shelter and to the women and children struggling to overcome a history of abuse.  This philanthropy was one of the motivators for me to join this team.  However, I never knew what role the Favor House would play in my racing.  I certainly did not expect it to be a conversation had while 2500 miles away from the shelter.  

During the Escape from Alcatraz event I heard- "Nice kit", "Cool Kit", "Those are awesome", "What brand is that".  When the lady running beside me in mile 4 asked where she could get a kit like mine I told her it was the kit for our team.  A conversation started about the team and led to a conversation about our support of the Favor House and what the Favor House is and does for those in our community.  The woman was impressed with the our community having a domestic violence shelter to help to protect women as they leave dangerous situations.  She asked several more questions about the shelter and our relationship to the shelter; I felt compelled to tell her that many communities have places like Favor House.  I told her about there being crisis hotlines for help to link to services.  
I don't know if she wanted to volunteer or support such a service in her community, or if she or someone she knew needed such services.  Either way I was glad to have spoken to her about our mission to offer support to these families as they make life changes and to let her know people are there to help.
I believe there are moments in our lives which should not make sense but may change the world of one person.  I hope this moment, if nothing else, provides an opportunity for this woman to help someone or herself. 
Please take time to be aware of those around you, listen to what others are saying to you, offer kindness, know that change is not easy, and have faith in the greater good of mankind.  I am thankful for this moment to share one of the reasons I push the pavement.  
We wear the Favor House name on our kits over our hearts because they are forever in our hearts on and off the course. 

If you ever need help call 850 434 6600.  This is a 24/7 crisis line.  There is help. 
 

Ride of Silence

Last year Patrick and I took part in the Ride of Silence, a bike ride to bring awareness to the deaths and injuries of cycling victims while they were using public roadways.  This year we were again able to take part in this global event.  
 

Gavel Girlz and Guyz

For those who have never been a part of this event it is an overwhelmingly emotional event. Our local event has many speakers, including the wife of a gentleman who lost his life due to a distracted driver who was texting.  The wife talks of how the driver didn't even know "what" he had hit. This family is one of many to tell stories of the loss of husbands, dads, brothers, sisters, moms, grandparents, and so on.  

Additionally another gentleman spoke about the needs for us as cyclist to be good road sharers.  We need to follow all rules of the road.  We need to be aware of our surroundings.  we need to signals our moves.  We need to pay attention when passing in areas where a car might be turning.  We have to make ourselves visible and we have to be aware.  

After these testimonies the Ride of Silence poem was read: 

Tonight we number many but ride as one
In honor of those not with us, friends, mothers, fathers, sisters, sons
With helmets on tight and heads down low,
We ride in silence, cautious and slow
The wheels start spinning in the lead pack
But tonight we ride and no one attacks
The dark sunglasses cover our tears
Remembering those we held so dear
Tonight's ride is to make others aware
The road is there for all to share
To those not with us or by our side,
May God be your partner on your final ride. 

This is where things become emotional.  As the cyclist line up side by side in opposing rows, up the middle of the group a hearse begins to move.  Then two by two the cyclist take off behind the hearse.  Up the road we ride, in silence.  The only sounds are the spinning of our wheels, clicking of pedals, and shifting of gears.  

Here in this quiet, in the tail lights of the hearse which carries the memories of those no longer able to push the pedals, here for me my mind remembers the close calls and one accident had by a friend of mine who I was riding with.  The memories of that accident come back strong for me on this ride, tied in with the memories of being told Patrick had fallen on the race course.   During that late summer beach ride my friend had pulled ahead with a strong tail wind.  When I saw her she had been down for about two minutes, there was a car stopped on the other side of the road and persons out of the vehicle trying to help.  There was no car stopped in the direction she was traveling.  911 had already been called.  As I slammed the breaks and jumped from my bike, she was coming too.  She didn't recognize me at first.  Then she became very certain we were going for ice cream.  She hit her head and shoulder hard onto the pavement.  In time she would remember there being a truck.  She would remember it clipping her and then nothing more till she was in the ambulance.  Thanks to her helmet and only a tap by the truck, she walked out of the hospital with no broken bones, just a bruised up face and road rashed shoulder.  While these were still significant and took time to heal, the emotional wounds took much more time to heal.  It took time for her to get back onto the bike.  To this day I pass that spot and I know that this spot nearly took my friend, because one truck got too close. 

The other ever lasting emotion, which came on today and comes on every time we line up to race, is the memory of hearing that Patrick had taken a fall during a race.  While this was not caused by a vehicle it was caused by hazardous road conditions and another cyclist not being mindful.  Patrick was able to get back up and push on during the race.  He finished the race with a broken rib and a few scrapes.  My heart never stopped fearing the possibility of something happening to Patrick out there on the road, whether I am there with him or we are out on our own riding.  

I tell you my experiences in hopes that when you read this and think about cyclist on the road you will remember that you know me.  You will remember than I am someone's wife, sister, daughter, aunt, and friend.  You will remember that I wish you get home safely.  You will remember that I, we, are not on the road to annoy or bother you.  You will remember to give us a little room.  You will remember that we bleed, that our hearts can stop beating, and that life can be forever changed in a split second.  

Thank you for watching for us.  Thank you for following the rules.  Thank you for valuing the lives of us all.           

From New Orleans With LOVE

I know it has been a few weeks since we raced New Orleans IM 70.3 and I should have had a race report out sooner, but as has been the case with several post race processings, as of late, this one took some time to really process all of the emotions and events of the day.  
While Patrick and I have been racing this distance for 2 years now, this race is special to me for several reasons: 1) it was our first race at this distance; 2) it was our first IM race; 3) it was a rough race the first time. 

What a pair we make!!!

When we decided to race IM NOLA again we both had mixed feelings.  We only signed up because a friend of ours was wanting to do a race at this distance.  We of course signed up early; and turns out our firned didn't sign up at all, due to life factors.  This left us facing down a race that we were not initially planning to race and really didn't have a great experience the first time we raced it.  But what are you going to do-- life gives you lemons and you can either make lemonade or throw them at people, either way you still have to do something. We were going to race!  
IM NOLA isn't a favorite of ours due to the swim being in the marina with boat oil and some high parasite levels, on the bike you are for sure going to have a head wind and a cross wind, and the run is sunny, which also means hot (especially given the changes to the course this year, which would mimic the course for the marathon of sun, sun, and more sun). But like I said this race holds a special place for us as our first 70.3 and first Ironman event; that was the positive we were banking on for this return. 

As we went in to the race we talked about finishing the race together; starting together would not be possible given our separate start waves (we are rule followers).  We were not sure what the plan was going to be as we started out that morning, we were still on the fence.  Patrick decided we would call our shot on the bike course.  
The weather the day before was less than pleasant, so much so that the race team made it a choice to leave our bikes in transition.  We choose to take bikes in the morning in order to avoid extra rain and winds.  By morning the winds were calmer- not gone but not blasting any more- and the rains had passed.  We thought we would have overcast conditions for most of the day but we would be wrong about that when the skies parted halfway through the bike and then beat down on the run. 
The swim went well for the most part, a few grabs here and there and Patrick took a blow to the face, but we lived. We both actually had really good swims.  In fact Patrick had such a good swim (in his new wetsuit) that he shaved about 13 minutes off his previous swim time and had a swim time only five minutes longer than me!!!  I guess pool time is paying off!!! 
Patrick now had a 15 minute head start onto the bike course, where I guess he decided to be a speed demon because it took me till mile 30-35 to catch him. The winds which had laid down for the swim stated to build back up as the sun peaked out.  When I did finally catch him it was after the turn around point, but I had missed him passing me in the other direction, so I was panicking.  I started to fear he wasn't on the course, when I caught him I was so very happy.  I had that chest tightness that happens as you start to cry, feeling over whelmed knowing his being so far out before I caught him meant he was having a great race!  he needed this great race, after several rough ones in recent months.
We called it on the bike to stay together.  Since drafting is illegal we played a little leap frog for the last 20 miles.  Four bike lengths is just close enough to yell at each other in order to have a conversation.  We got passed during a few conversations about the race and the wind and Patrick's new biking shorts- everyone passed with a smile, I think they felt the same as us and just had no one to yell it at. A few times I got a little too far ahead, I am not really good at glancing back so when I did if there was someone there in a dark top my brain assumed it was Patrick, right up till they passed me! Turns out it throws off other racers when you call them babe as they pass you.  
Towards the end of the bike I stopped at the porta potty (you knew it was going to happen sooner or later).  This would be one of the funniest porta potty experiences, and no I did not get stuck.  I was parked and in the little house when Patrick came by on his bike, yelling out my name to double check it was me stopped.  I yelled back and he kept on going, "See ya soon."  I was already laughing that our teamwork was to the porta potty check-in level!!!  Then as both myself and the guy next to me came out of our individual porta potties, he laughed at me and said, "I guess you have some catching up to do." Yep he got a laugh out of the check-in too.  
As I was exiting the bathroom there was a lady screaming.  As I got onto my bike I saw her pull off and just scream at the top of her lungs.  She was having bad cramping, limiting her ability to move.  Myself and another gentleman flagged down volunteers from the nearby water station who were sending medical support.  The other guy gave her some salt tabs to try to help.  This would not be the last person on the bike course or in this race who we would pass cramping, the heat was taking its toll.  
I hit the transition area just ahead of Patrick.  Together we left out onto the run course.  Shortly after starting out on the course we came across a friend of ours on the sidelines cheering.  There is truly nothing better than a friendly face, especially when this friendly face is willing to give you a hug as you run by, even though you are sweaty and nasty!!!!!   
A few stomach issues for Patrick had us slow at the start of the run, but we started to make up time and started to pass those who had passed us.  The heat was really kicking in at this point and the lack of shade on the course, which ran next to the lake, was noticeable for every step.  In the brief moments where a tree offered shade it felt like Autumn, even the breeze was cooler; unfortunately these spots were less that 10 yards in length and stopping underneath was not an option.  The turn around would offer some comfort, just knowing only six more miles to go.
As we began to quickly near the finish area our friend again jumped up and down at the street's edge.  It was just the extra boost we needed to pass a few more people and then cross the finish line, together. 

Hand in Hand

The bonus to racing a lot is the announcers at the finish line get to know you.  As we crossed the finish line, me in my Gavel gear, Patrick in his TGC gear, to the announcement of Pea Ridge crossing the line, we were hand in hand- it was a perfect mix of our racing community and our part in it.  A moment I would have never expected to experience; one I will never forget.  In that moment I remembered the feeling of finishing this race the first time- knowing it could be done and that I was able to do it-, it was intensified by us being there together.  I didn't have to wait to hug Patrick, I didn't have to wonder where he was on the course or how he was doing, instead I got to hug him right then and to know he was safe.  
Patrick said after the race that I sacrificed my race goal, to be faster than the last time on this course.  I don't see it that way at all.  I simply changed my goal.  There will be other races and other days but that moment when my heart knew I was where I needed to be, that moment would only happen then. 
We waited till the last racer finished.  The race officials allowed for all racers on the course to finish.  As we watched story after story cross the finish line it was an amazing feeling.  we watched the finish of the woman whose husband passed away while riding the course prerace last year.  We watched as the running nun finished her race. We watched as people pushed their bodies to a brink they never though they would reach. We watched them all cross that line- a smile and full heart.  All of us did 70.3 miles, all of us did it our own way, and all of us were welcomed at the finish line to smiles, and music, and the sound of our name being yelled out! 
Will we return? One day.  Will we race it together? Maybe.  Will we forever have this moment to remember that together with a little pushing, and laughing, and pulling we can overcome any challenge? Always, we will always have this moment!    

Did it again!!!  TOGETHER!!!

Opening Tri Season- HITS Ocala

The 2015 season started with a 140.6... why not?  

The HITS Ocala race is a small race for the full iron distance but a big race weekend, as they run multiple races both days.  The full distance was a small grouping, only about 40 of us going big.  However, we were going to start off in a mass start with the half distance people.  I'll get to that in a minute, let's talk about the build up to this race.
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. 

On Friday, a rainy and windy Friday, we took our bikes down to the race site to drop them off and to pick up packets. We also went to the prerace meeting.  It was during packet pick as I overheard someone talking about the "trail" run that I realized the definition of trail that I had in my mind was not the reality of the situation.  Turns out the race is run on a trail, yep a real trail, in the woods type trail with semi packed sand.  Here's where we started taking some deep breaths.  I was assured it was packed sand, I think their definition of "packed' and mine is different.  The rain was suppose to make it harder sand so I am going to blame the fast people for turning it up loop after loop and that's why it was no longer packed down for me (ha ha ha).  At the prerace meeting I was very focused on getting the full allotted 17 hours, this came up when the race director mentioned the start time may be delayed due to sunrise.  I have been down this "time changing path" before and was going to make sure if start was at 0715 then I had till 0015 to finish the race.  Thank goodness he's an understanding guy and assured me more than once that this event really is about the athletes and he wants everyone to have the time they need to finish.  Another athlete came up afterwards and assured me of the same thing.  Granted I ended up not needing 17 hours but my mind was at ease knowing it was there. 
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. 

I need to mention the AWESOME transition area.  Little benches with our names and numbers on them and trough type boxes to put our things!  I loved it; this was easy for any athlete which means that I should not have a bike racked in my spot or a wetsuit thrown on my running shoes!!!! This was my dance bubble!
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.  

On my bike it was cold and the winds were picking up.  The course was marked every 5 miles which was great until I started questioning how I wasn't to the next marker yet. The course was hillier than I had expected- elevation gain of 2651.  The problem was not the factor that there were hills, it was that they were mostly slow never ending inclines, then a little drop, then climb again.  The winds added another challenge, as they often twisted around us, then gusted at us head on.  I was glad after talking to some of the faster guys the following day, to hear they struggled in the wind and with feeling like it was a constant head wind even on the out and back loops. 
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. 

When I was in transition (changing clothes) I realized how much I LOVED this little bench!!!  I could have sat there all afternoon, if Patrick wasn't yelling at me to hurry up and get going!!  I once again forgot to grab my ibuprofen.  I came off the bike longing for this and in the mix of emotions had again forgotten.  My hips were tight and causing my lower back to tighten up.  I "ran" out of transition- after a bathroom stop- and up the hill.  This would be the last of the pavement, except for a small 50 yards on the back side.  I entered the woods a little confused with the directions, runners were going and coming and coming and going.  I was quickly directed off to the left and the race was on.  Well... the fastish paced walk was on.  My legs continued to have fits, I walked for about the first 1.5 miles, then I started to run what I could.  Sometimes this run would last a few 100 yards other times a 100 steps.  The only thing consistent was that I was making forward motion, however inconsistently.  
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.