Iron Maiden

It wasn’t 3 years ago that I sat and watched NBC’s airing of the Hawaii Ironman World Championship. The personal stories of adversity overcome brought tears to my eyes over and over again; I could relate to what it meant to persevere during times of difficulty and overcome what life had thus far handed me.

What I hadn’t realized, though, was that the pinnacle of triathlon -- the “holy grail” of multisport racing – the Ironman itself – was run by ordinary mortals, people like myself. All these years I had thought the race and its grueling distance was a challenge taken on by only the pro’s. It hadn’t occurred to me that “regular people” – folks with jobs, bills, demands on their time, responsibilities just like mine – trained and raced, and actually did well.

And here I was, on September 15, 2007, at 6:30am, on my 43rd birthday no less, standing in the 77-degree water toeing the line for my first Ironman. I could say the whole reason I was shivering was because of the ambient temperature, but that wouldn’t be entirely true :). 9 months of training had come to this one day – did I have IT in me? Would I be able to handle the 2.4 mile swim, the 112 mile bike, and a 26.2 mile marathon – all in succession?

One thing my coach had told me was to be confident in my training. She reassured me I had done all the work and just had to put together a great race and execute – “make it YOUR day Catherine!” she had said. Her words would ring true all day long J.

The morning of the race was cold – 39 degrees! None of us had gloves and my hands were a bit numb while I was racking my bike and setting up my shoes, helmet, food, race belt, etc. Who knew metal could get so cold! For the first time I was actually looking forward to getting into my wetsuit, made rather difficult by the cold – my fingers would not bend to grip the suit and pull it on my body despite loads of Body Glide. Steve finally had to help me; I think he actually enjoyed it immensely as it gave him a legitimate reason to grope his wife in public :). I tried to add to the fun by holding my right hand under my left armpit inside the suit and flexing my left arm – you know, the old arm-fart trick. It didn’t work but lots of people laughed – it served its purpose for sure.

At the swim start, the fog was so thick we couldn’t see to the next swim buoy so they delayed the start by 15 minutes. We stood shivering in the water, for once all of us glad to be submerged in temperatures nearly twice as warm as the ambient temperature. To stay warm and calm my nerves I swam several times to the first buoy and back, no more than 20 feet, and it helped.

The gun finally fired and we were off. The fog was still thick on the water and all I could sight on were bobbing heads in front of me. I had long ago decided to relax – it was after all my first Ironman and I wasn’t about to blow up on the swim. By the time I came around the first loop (it was a 2-loop swim of 1.2 miles each), the fog had burned off and I was in cruise mode. I stopped briefly to adjust my goggles and was surprised to see several athletes still in the vicinity.

An hour and 40 minutes after the gun, my feet were touching the shore and running to the transition area. I couldn’t believe it – I had “negative-splitted” my swim, meaning the second loop was faster than the first. A great sign and very encouraging.

Onto the bike – well, to say it was windy was an understatement. Ok, this wasn’t the 50mph gusts of Kona but the wind was a formidable opponent, and not surprising at all in the cornfields of Illinois where there are no barriers and only open fields. I hunkered down and squeezed my knees into my top tube, a knife into the wind, grateful for all the miles I’d ridden in the aero position; I was at home resting on my forearms and letting my legs do the work.

56 miles later and onto the bike’s second loop, the wind had largely died down which was a measure of grace, but hey this is September in Central Illinois and it’s harvest season – hello combines and hello DUST. My nose started running a LOT, and I was blowing snot rockets every 5 minutes. I actually wondered if I could leave “snot crumbs” and laughed – the mind at work in survival mode. Around Mile 80 my crotch began to complain rather loudly (payback for being aero I guess), and I was forced to stand and pedal more than I wanted to. Luckily I was keeping right on with my nutrition and felt great in that respect. Seeing Steve at various spots on the bike course was great too – he was actually in a lawn chair reading a book, soaking up the sun. I wondered for a second what was wrong with this picture – me hauling my butt around 112 miles on my steed and him doing what he loves – reading a military book and watching his wife – but any doubts about where I was quickly vanished as he said with a big grin “You look HOT and AWESOME!” I love this sport :).

At Mile 105 of the bike, with 7 miles to go, I could hardly WAIT to get onto the marathon. I mean, I was looking forward to running! In all the bricks I’d done (bike first then run immediately afterward), I’d never felt that way. It would take a mile to “find” my legs, which is not a pleasant feeling.

Not today. I was happy to be off my aching butt, standing upright so I could stop blowing snot, and I was back in my “old school” – back to my first love – running lonnnnnnnnng. It felt wonderful, and I was clicking the miles off, a tad slower than I wanted but moving forward nonetheless. Steve would drive up alongside me at various points and grin – for the umpteenth time I wondered which of us was having a better time :).

The sun had gone down earlier and I was on a country road. Looking up there were no buildings or obstructions to my view; it was only me and the vast dark blue sky, and the feeling of being under the Almighty’s gaze washed over me like a warm breeze – I was filled with gratitude that I had been able to get this far and the certainty that He had never left me, ever. In all the days of sorrow I had known earlier in my life, I could look back and see where He’d been at work all along.

At Mile 22 I was still running and I couldn’t believe it. I still had stamina left and while there was pain to deal with, I had mentally prepared myself for it to come; there was nothing I couldn’t make peace with and carry with me to the end. For goodness sakes, only 4 miles left to go – this was an easy training run!

Steve was standing at the Mile 25 marker and I had contained my emotions until then. When I saw him, I couldn’t hold back any longer; the tears came and flowed and we both cried as we ran together to the Finish. What a great metaphor for life – run with my husband to the Ultimate Finish someday where we will have eternity to enjoy with our Heavenly Father.

The clock said 15:28 when I crossed and held my arms up high, pointing to the sky. Thank you God for this beautiful gift, this wonderful opportunity to learn once again how to deal with pain and overcome in the midst of it, knowing the joys that await us in the end.

“but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.”

-- Isaiah 40:31