Oh my, where to begin...I wish everyone could have as much fun for their first Ironman as I did! It was truly an amazing day.
I may have to break this up into several posts, because there's just so much to cover! This one will only cover the race itself. A friend started calling me the Honey Badger. To understand the Honey Badger references, watch the youtube video here:
About a week and a half out from the race, I found myself entering a very calm, very relaxed state. Sure I was still a little nervous, but I felt very confident and ready. I felt like a kid the night before the final: if you don't know the material by now, you're not going to know it during the test, so no use stressing out about it. Either I was prepared or I wasn't, the day was going to go how it was going to go. Best to just control what you can, and let the rest happen.
The night before, I did manage to get a little sleep, even if it was fitful. Had no trouble waking up when the alarm went off at four, and went in search of a microwave for my instant oatmeal. The promised microwave in the lounge was locked up tight, so I had to go back into the hotel kitchen to nuke my breakfast. It worked out fine, so no stress there. Met up with two of the three "Honey Badger Crew" in the lobby, and walked over to the bike transition area, where I put my liquids on the bike. Then we headed down to body marking and the swim start, a 3/4-mile hike. Got there not too much after 5am, but it looked like the line for the swim start was already pretty long. Oh well, I know there's still lots of people behind me, so no worries.
[The swim start at Louisville is a unique Ironman start. Instead of the mass free-for-all start, you get in one long-ass line, and jump off a dock every second or so. The time cutoff for the swim doesn't start until the last person enters the water, so if you're a pitiful-slow swimmer like me, it behooves you to get as near the front of the line as possible.]
We all hung out in line for the next two hours or so, chatting and relaxing. I felt like I had entered a sort of Zen state: I was incredibly calm, felt an inner quiet that I normally don't feel before any race of any distance, and was in a very peaceful mood. I just looked around and people-watched, enjoyed watching Elizabeth and Shirley people-watch, and hoped maybe Paula would get there before I started. She had driven back to Indianapolis Saturday to perform in a chorus concert Saturday night, and got back very early Sunday morning. She grabbed a couple of hours of sleep at a friend's place, and was coming in to find me before the race. She finally found us, about ten minutes before the start.
THE SWIM
The gun went off for the pro start, and we all gawked at their amazingly fast swim past us. Then it was our turn. The line was starting to move. Guess I'm really going to do this thing, huh? Wow. Can't believe it's finally here, after two years of planning and training. Holy crap.
Exchanged hugs with everyone, then the swimmers started our traipse down to the dock. The swim start went very smoothly, with people getting in quickly. I hopped in and started swimming. The Zen-like peacefulness stayed with me, and I had (for me) a wonderful swim. It felt great, comfortable, and not a struggle at all. Got smacked a few times, did my own share of smacking and crawling up over people, and was at the turnaround before I knew it. Yippee! Now I get to swim with the current -- let's hope it helps me out!
It did, and eventually I saw the final red buoy up ahead, signaling the finish. Wow. Really? I still didn't feel tired, was just getting a little bored with swimming and ready to move on to something else. Ok, it's show time. The first of a day of amazing volunteers helped us out of the water, I took a few slower steps to make sure I wasn't lightheaded from being horizontal for so long, and trotted off to transition. Honey Badger is out of the water!
Projected swim time: 2:00. Actual swim time: 1:44:03. Fabulous!
THE BIKE
Another volunteer handed my bike bag to me and I headed to the changing tent, where yet another volunteer immediately asked if I needed water or anything else and began helping me sort out my stuff. While I was in there, a conversation was going on about someone having CPR on the dock at the swim start. Uh oh. Apparently this happened right after I had gotten in the water. No one knew anything, but something bad had obviously happened. Damn. Hate it when someone's day goes so terribly wrong.
The volunteers in the changing tent are wonderful! They pick up your bag, start pulling stuff out of it and handing it to you. A volunteer was walking around offering tampons, and two of us laughed and talked about how happy we were not to have to be fooling with that nonsense today! I had packed a little towel and dried my feet off, pulled on my socks and shoes, helmet, drank a Shakelology, and headed out of the tent. There, yet another wonderful volunteer slathered me thoroughly in sunscreen. What a treat!
Easily found my bike and headed out for a very long ride...still feeling strong and calm. Wow, is this for real? Gave a thumbs-up to everyone, and took off.
Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual T1 time: 12:35.
As promised, the bike started out easy and got harder fast. The serious hills began around mile 18(?) or so, and never let up. However, I still felt great, and was thrilled to reach the first timing mat at 23 miles in an hour and 23 minutes. I was embracing the Endurance Nation philosophy of saving it for later, and was very pleased with how I felt. I'm not a strong cyclist and have definitely not done nearly as much riding as I should have, so I knew the hills would challenge me. I fully expected to have to walk up one or two. Much to my pleasant surprise, even when I was cursing the hills between miles 70-80, I was able to not only stay on the bike, but stay seated all but once. The only time I had to walk was when a series of cars refused to pass us as several of us were going up a hill, and didn't leave me any room to safely get by.
A cyclist was down at mile 20 by the side of the road, but someone else was waiting with them and the aid wagon was arriving just as I went by, so I kept going. Passed a lot of people with some sort of issue, be it flats, unhappy stomach, tired, whatever. There were aid stations approximately every 10 miles, so I stopped and stood up at every one. Twice I got off to use the portajohns. Once again, the volunteers were amazing. If you pulled over, there was immediately someone there offering to bring you water, electrolyte drink, banana, gel, whatever. For the portajohns, someone would grab your bike and hold it while you took care of business, then offer to bring you stuff. Wow.
Pulled over at the special needs stop around mile 65 and drank another Shakeology, and asked what time it was (there were no clocks on the course). It was 2:00. The bike course cutoff was mile 61 by 2:30, so plenty of time there. The volunteer captain told me that they were discussing extending the total race cutoff by a few minutes, due to the delay at the swim start. I asked how the guy was doing, and the volunteer just said "not good." Oh crap. Not another race where someone dies because they didn't know they had a heart condition. Sobering.
Held it together on the bike really well, just staying in easy gears and grabbing all the downhill free speed I could muster. I hauled it down the hills and crept up in granny gear. Oh well, I wasn't killing my legs, either. The crotch held up pretty well until mile 80 or so, then it began getting pretty uncomfortable. Only 32 miles to go, I can deal. Everyone had talked about how the last 20 miles were downhill, so I was looking forward to that.
All those people lied. Sure, if you look at the elevation chart it's all downhill, but reality isn't quite that pleasant. There's also a stretch of concrete road where there's seams every so many yards, and when you go over those seams you get bumped in the...yeah. If anyone had been near me it would have been hilarious, I'm sure. Every time I hit one of those seams, I was grunting and yelping with pain. It hurt, but it was even funny to me. What really kept me cranking was the thought that I was NOT going to do this again, so I had better make all the cutoffs and finish this darned thing!
FINALLY I see the Louisville skyline, and eventually see the volunteer pointing me to the dismount line. Thank gawd. SO happy to get off the bike. You regular century riders can keep it. I have no interest in spending that much time on a bike again. Anything over 3-4 hours is for the birds. Bleah.
Very happily got off the bike (and handed it to a volunteer who racked it for me), then realized I couldn't take a step in my bike shoes. One of them apparently was hitting a nerve, and walking on it was impossible. Didn't bother me at all on the bike, but walking was out of the question. Once again, the amazing volunteer realized I was trying to take off my shoes, and he said, "Let me do that for you. You don't need to bend over just yet." My hero. Walked down to transition in my socks, anxious to get back out on the road...on my FEET.
Projected bike time: between 7-8 hours, hopefully closer to 7. Actual time: 8:04:21.
THE RUN
Back to the changing tent I go. The volunteer once again pulled all of my stuff out and handed it to me one by one, and grabbed stuff as I was removing it and put it in the bag. We chatted a bit while she hovered to make sure I was ok. Asked her the time, and it was around 5:30. Damn. I really wanted to be back by 4:30. There goes another hour of cushion for the run. Oh well, get moving. Drank another Shakeology (dinner!) and headed out for more sunscreen. Wow, I still feel really good. Tired, but good. What gives? I'll take it.
Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual transition time: 14:26.
Said hi to my Honey Badger Crew, made it clear that I hate the bike, and started a slow jog. I was too tired to properly run any distance, but wasn't too tired to run a minute, walk a minute. Oh my, this is gonna take forever. Will I make it? I only have 6.5 hours to cover 26.2 miles. Yikes. I was really angry with myself for putting myself in a potential bind to make the cutoff, so I shortened the walking breaks to maybe 30-45 seconds.
...and passed the "Mile 1" sign before I knew it. Really?? Already? Wow. Maybe this won't take as long as I thought! There are two loops to the course. You do one loop, come within a block of the finish line, make a right, and head out for 12 more miles. I was hoping to hit that corner by 8:00pm. Before I knew it, I was there. Found my crew again, asked what time it was. "23 after!" "After EIGHT??" "Yeah!" Are you serious? Well hot damn, how did that happen? I now had 3.5 hours to cover 12 miles. Piece o' cake.
Kept up the run/walk routine, kept passing people that I never saw again, and soon I was at the 25-mile mark. WOW. I'm really gonna do this thing, it's really not gonna be a suckfest, and I'm really enjoying the hell out of it. What's wrong with this picture? Can everything be falling into place this nicely? I mean, everything? Not one thing went wrong, really. Pinching myself the last mile, I decided I was going to thoroughly enjoy that finish chute.
THE FINISH
Rounded that last corner, was blinded by the bright lights, walked to the start of the finish chute. Hit the chute, then took off in a sprint. Enjoyed the crowd noise, heard the announcer say it was my 50th birthday, did some high-fives with people as I went by, and smiled like a fool when I heard "Carla Happel, you are an Ironman!" Holy. Shit. I did it. AND IT DIDN'T SUCK. Am I dreaming?
Got my medal, another volunteer was immediately at my side guiding me through the finish area, found my crew and hugged them, got my finish cap and shirt. Paula handed me the most obnoxiously large helium birthday balloon ever and a dozen roses, and I got the finisher pic with those. Awesome!
Oh, did I mention that Macca (Chris McDonald) put my medal on me? How cool. That man is amazing. He won this race in 8:27:36. Inhuman.
We wandered around looking for some milk or something not-solid to eat, I spoke with my parents, then we went and watched some more finishers for about another 45 minutes. That was the best. These were all the people I had passed on the run course, who had just been too tired to even try running, and it was great to see them perk up, run in, and smile.
After that, the first order of business was a hot shower...
Projected run time: 6:00. Actual run time: 5:33:04
My total race time was 15:48:29...about 45 minutes faster than I had hoped.
Guess I'm an Ironman now, huh? Sure does feel good.
I may have to break this up into several posts, because there's just so much to cover! This one will only cover the race itself. A friend started calling me the Honey Badger. To understand the Honey Badger references, watch the youtube video here:
About a week and a half out from the race, I found myself entering a very calm, very relaxed state. Sure I was still a little nervous, but I felt very confident and ready. I felt like a kid the night before the final: if you don't know the material by now, you're not going to know it during the test, so no use stressing out about it. Either I was prepared or I wasn't, the day was going to go how it was going to go. Best to just control what you can, and let the rest happen.
The night before, I did manage to get a little sleep, even if it was fitful. Had no trouble waking up when the alarm went off at four, and went in search of a microwave for my instant oatmeal. The promised microwave in the lounge was locked up tight, so I had to go back into the hotel kitchen to nuke my breakfast. It worked out fine, so no stress there. Met up with two of the three "Honey Badger Crew" in the lobby, and walked over to the bike transition area, where I put my liquids on the bike. Then we headed down to body marking and the swim start, a 3/4-mile hike. Got there not too much after 5am, but it looked like the line for the swim start was already pretty long. Oh well, I know there's still lots of people behind me, so no worries.
[The swim start at Louisville is a unique Ironman start. Instead of the mass free-for-all start, you get in one long-ass line, and jump off a dock every second or so. The time cutoff for the swim doesn't start until the last person enters the water, so if you're a pitiful-slow swimmer like me, it behooves you to get as near the front of the line as possible.]
We all hung out in line for the next two hours or so, chatting and relaxing. I felt like I had entered a sort of Zen state: I was incredibly calm, felt an inner quiet that I normally don't feel before any race of any distance, and was in a very peaceful mood. I just looked around and people-watched, enjoyed watching Elizabeth and Shirley people-watch, and hoped maybe Paula would get there before I started. She had driven back to Indianapolis Saturday to perform in a chorus concert Saturday night, and got back very early Sunday morning. She grabbed a couple of hours of sleep at a friend's place, and was coming in to find me before the race. She finally found us, about ten minutes before the start.
THE SWIM
The gun went off for the pro start, and we all gawked at their amazingly fast swim past us. Then it was our turn. The line was starting to move. Guess I'm really going to do this thing, huh? Wow. Can't believe it's finally here, after two years of planning and training. Holy crap.
Exchanged hugs with everyone, then the swimmers started our traipse down to the dock. The swim start went very smoothly, with people getting in quickly. I hopped in and started swimming. The Zen-like peacefulness stayed with me, and I had (for me) a wonderful swim. It felt great, comfortable, and not a struggle at all. Got smacked a few times, did my own share of smacking and crawling up over people, and was at the turnaround before I knew it. Yippee! Now I get to swim with the current -- let's hope it helps me out!
It did, and eventually I saw the final red buoy up ahead, signaling the finish. Wow. Really? I still didn't feel tired, was just getting a little bored with swimming and ready to move on to something else. Ok, it's show time. The first of a day of amazing volunteers helped us out of the water, I took a few slower steps to make sure I wasn't lightheaded from being horizontal for so long, and trotted off to transition. Honey Badger is out of the water!
Projected swim time: 2:00. Actual swim time: 1:44:03. Fabulous!
THE BIKE
Another volunteer handed my bike bag to me and I headed to the changing tent, where yet another volunteer immediately asked if I needed water or anything else and began helping me sort out my stuff. While I was in there, a conversation was going on about someone having CPR on the dock at the swim start. Uh oh. Apparently this happened right after I had gotten in the water. No one knew anything, but something bad had obviously happened. Damn. Hate it when someone's day goes so terribly wrong.
The volunteers in the changing tent are wonderful! They pick up your bag, start pulling stuff out of it and handing it to you. A volunteer was walking around offering tampons, and two of us laughed and talked about how happy we were not to have to be fooling with that nonsense today! I had packed a little towel and dried my feet off, pulled on my socks and shoes, helmet, drank a Shakelology, and headed out of the tent. There, yet another wonderful volunteer slathered me thoroughly in sunscreen. What a treat!
Easily found my bike and headed out for a very long ride...still feeling strong and calm. Wow, is this for real? Gave a thumbs-up to everyone, and took off.
Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual T1 time: 12:35.
As promised, the bike started out easy and got harder fast. The serious hills began around mile 18(?) or so, and never let up. However, I still felt great, and was thrilled to reach the first timing mat at 23 miles in an hour and 23 minutes. I was embracing the Endurance Nation philosophy of saving it for later, and was very pleased with how I felt. I'm not a strong cyclist and have definitely not done nearly as much riding as I should have, so I knew the hills would challenge me. I fully expected to have to walk up one or two. Much to my pleasant surprise, even when I was cursing the hills between miles 70-80, I was able to not only stay on the bike, but stay seated all but once. The only time I had to walk was when a series of cars refused to pass us as several of us were going up a hill, and didn't leave me any room to safely get by.
A cyclist was down at mile 20 by the side of the road, but someone else was waiting with them and the aid wagon was arriving just as I went by, so I kept going. Passed a lot of people with some sort of issue, be it flats, unhappy stomach, tired, whatever. There were aid stations approximately every 10 miles, so I stopped and stood up at every one. Twice I got off to use the portajohns. Once again, the volunteers were amazing. If you pulled over, there was immediately someone there offering to bring you water, electrolyte drink, banana, gel, whatever. For the portajohns, someone would grab your bike and hold it while you took care of business, then offer to bring you stuff. Wow.
Pulled over at the special needs stop around mile 65 and drank another Shakeology, and asked what time it was (there were no clocks on the course). It was 2:00. The bike course cutoff was mile 61 by 2:30, so plenty of time there. The volunteer captain told me that they were discussing extending the total race cutoff by a few minutes, due to the delay at the swim start. I asked how the guy was doing, and the volunteer just said "not good." Oh crap. Not another race where someone dies because they didn't know they had a heart condition. Sobering.
Held it together on the bike really well, just staying in easy gears and grabbing all the downhill free speed I could muster. I hauled it down the hills and crept up in granny gear. Oh well, I wasn't killing my legs, either. The crotch held up pretty well until mile 80 or so, then it began getting pretty uncomfortable. Only 32 miles to go, I can deal. Everyone had talked about how the last 20 miles were downhill, so I was looking forward to that.
All those people lied. Sure, if you look at the elevation chart it's all downhill, but reality isn't quite that pleasant. There's also a stretch of concrete road where there's seams every so many yards, and when you go over those seams you get bumped in the...yeah. If anyone had been near me it would have been hilarious, I'm sure. Every time I hit one of those seams, I was grunting and yelping with pain. It hurt, but it was even funny to me. What really kept me cranking was the thought that I was NOT going to do this again, so I had better make all the cutoffs and finish this darned thing!
FINALLY I see the Louisville skyline, and eventually see the volunteer pointing me to the dismount line. Thank gawd. SO happy to get off the bike. You regular century riders can keep it. I have no interest in spending that much time on a bike again. Anything over 3-4 hours is for the birds. Bleah.
Very happily got off the bike (and handed it to a volunteer who racked it for me), then realized I couldn't take a step in my bike shoes. One of them apparently was hitting a nerve, and walking on it was impossible. Didn't bother me at all on the bike, but walking was out of the question. Once again, the amazing volunteer realized I was trying to take off my shoes, and he said, "Let me do that for you. You don't need to bend over just yet." My hero. Walked down to transition in my socks, anxious to get back out on the road...on my FEET.
Projected bike time: between 7-8 hours, hopefully closer to 7. Actual time: 8:04:21.
THE RUN
Back to the changing tent I go. The volunteer once again pulled all of my stuff out and handed it to me one by one, and grabbed stuff as I was removing it and put it in the bag. We chatted a bit while she hovered to make sure I was ok. Asked her the time, and it was around 5:30. Damn. I really wanted to be back by 4:30. There goes another hour of cushion for the run. Oh well, get moving. Drank another Shakeology (dinner!) and headed out for more sunscreen. Wow, I still feel really good. Tired, but good. What gives? I'll take it.
Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual transition time: 14:26.
Said hi to my Honey Badger Crew, made it clear that I hate the bike, and started a slow jog. I was too tired to properly run any distance, but wasn't too tired to run a minute, walk a minute. Oh my, this is gonna take forever. Will I make it? I only have 6.5 hours to cover 26.2 miles. Yikes. I was really angry with myself for putting myself in a potential bind to make the cutoff, so I shortened the walking breaks to maybe 30-45 seconds.
...and passed the "Mile 1" sign before I knew it. Really?? Already? Wow. Maybe this won't take as long as I thought! There are two loops to the course. You do one loop, come within a block of the finish line, make a right, and head out for 12 more miles. I was hoping to hit that corner by 8:00pm. Before I knew it, I was there. Found my crew again, asked what time it was. "23 after!" "After EIGHT??" "Yeah!" Are you serious? Well hot damn, how did that happen? I now had 3.5 hours to cover 12 miles. Piece o' cake.
Kept up the run/walk routine, kept passing people that I never saw again, and soon I was at the 25-mile mark. WOW. I'm really gonna do this thing, it's really not gonna be a suckfest, and I'm really enjoying the hell out of it. What's wrong with this picture? Can everything be falling into place this nicely? I mean, everything? Not one thing went wrong, really. Pinching myself the last mile, I decided I was going to thoroughly enjoy that finish chute.
THE FINISH
Rounded that last corner, was blinded by the bright lights, walked to the start of the finish chute. Hit the chute, then took off in a sprint. Enjoyed the crowd noise, heard the announcer say it was my 50th birthday, did some high-fives with people as I went by, and smiled like a fool when I heard "Carla Happel, you are an Ironman!" Holy. Shit. I did it. AND IT DIDN'T SUCK. Am I dreaming?
Got my medal, another volunteer was immediately at my side guiding me through the finish area, found my crew and hugged them, got my finish cap and shirt. Paula handed me the most obnoxiously large helium birthday balloon ever and a dozen roses, and I got the finisher pic with those. Awesome!
Oh, did I mention that Macca (Chris McDonald) put my medal on me? How cool. That man is amazing. He won this race in 8:27:36. Inhuman.
We wandered around looking for some milk or something not-solid to eat, I spoke with my parents, then we went and watched some more finishers for about another 45 minutes. That was the best. These were all the people I had passed on the run course, who had just been too tired to even try running, and it was great to see them perk up, run in, and smile.
After that, the first order of business was a hot shower...
Projected run time: 6:00. Actual run time: 5:33:04
My total race time was 15:48:29...about 45 minutes faster than I had hoped.
Guess I'm an Ironman now, huh? Sure does feel good.
