An Ironman, a Ring, and My Future Knight

Despite the warm, tropical air, little goose bumps pop up all over my arms as I step into the clear, blue waves. While not nearly as rough as the past two days, I’m still nervous. Kermit gives me one last kiss before heading out into deeper water. I stay near the back, with my feet still on the ground, next to my appointed “swim buddy” (a fellow athlete who trains with my coach). If I get scared or freak out, all I have to do is reach out and tickle his pink KT tape-covered feet to let him know I’m in trouble.

We start inching out a bit, and before I know it, the horn sounds the start of the race. Mustering all my courage, remembering how I swam in waves much worse than this, and smiling at my buddy’s constant comments of, “this is awesome” and “this is so cool!”, I put my face in the water and go.

We swim out towards the first buoy. Despite the mass of people, I don’t feel crushed like I have in other races. We hang a left, dodging some rope that normally blocks off the area for the hotel guests. Race officials changed the course last night because of the nasty current and weather conditions… score! Now we’re swimming with the current the entire way.

I try to keep count of buoys, knowing they are 100 meters apart, but lose track after about 7. We’re swimming closer to shore than to the buoys, so it’s harder to see them. Suddenly, a bright yellow and black striped fish skitters out from behind a rock right below me! The splash of color on an otherwise blue monotone ocean floor is beautiful! A few minutes later, we stop to look at some kind of ship wreck to our right. There are some really beautiful things to look at, and the current is pushing us, making the time go by fast. About half way through, I realize I didn’t wash the baby soap out of my goggles sufficiently, and my eyes are burning. Not much I can do about it right then, so I keep swimming.

Before I know it, we are almost to the swim exit. I can see it! Oh, and there’s a diver over there taking pictures of us! That’s something you don’t see every day while swimming. The salt water is getting to me – my piece of mint gum having lost its flavor - and my eyes are killing me, but I’m so excited to see that dock. I’m doing an Ironman! I am swimming in an actual full Ironman race! This is awesome!

Right after I get to the top of the steps, I hear someone calling my name behind me. It’s Kermit. I finished the swim right before him and he was ahead of me at the start. An hour and seven minutes isn’t bad for a 2.1 mile swim, according to my Garmin. Kermit and I run towards our bike bags, grab them off the hooks, and head to the changing tents.

It’s a bit unnerving to change in front of a bunch of strangers, but I want dry clothes for the  bike. It doesn’t really matter though because I can’t dry off well enough to make a difference. My eyes are really painful, but I decide to forego changing my contacts. I feel like I spent too much time as it is wrestling my sports bra on to take more time.

Heading out on the bike, I feel great. Some friends cheer for me as I hop on and head out. I am biking in an Ironman race! I can’t believe it! I can’t believe I actually got here after a whole year of training. And I feel awesome! After about 6 miles, when I’m almost to the windy side of the island, it starts to rain. And then it pours. But I love it! It feels awesome. And I’m doing an Ironman! I can do this! I’m going to hear them call my name at the finish line!

A couple miles later, it’s still raining and I’m still loving it… wait, what’s that? Ah! There is a little snake slithering across the road right in front of me. Awww… how cute! I’m in Cozumel Mexico doing an Ironman! Woo Hoo!

As I get to the windy section, I think, okay, this is manageable. I can do this. Just think of all those tough long

intervals my coach had me do. Just remember there are three tough intervals, just like in training, so I push through this one, I’m already a third of the way done. Push through the second, I’m more than half way and only have one more to go. Stay focused Mandy, you can do this.

As I continue, the wind picks up, whipping against my face. At least the rain stopped. Still feeling pretty good, I inch past a few people, although I’m only going about 13 mph. I pass the special needs bags and think, I might just wait until my last loop to grab that, I’m feeling really good.

I turn left to head back toward town. Yea! Out of the wind for a while. I can so do this! Then I hit mile 30… and feel like someone made me guzzle a whole bottle of ipecac. Remembering what Kermit always tells me, I try to eat a honey stinger, hoping that will make the awful sick feeling go away. I’m getting to the crowds now and start praying with all my might, “please don’t hurl on all these people as I ride past, please don’t throw up!”

I keep pushing, knowing I’ve experienced this to a lesser extent before. Feeling so sick, I try some other nutrition since the stinger made me feel worse. But, the blocks and chomps just aren’t working their usual magic. I pass my dad, enjoying the fact that he is there to cheer for me. Continuing, I don’t see anyone else I know in the spectators as I head out of town again for my second loop. Still feeling really sick, I know I need calories, so I just keep chugging Gatorade and water.  I stop at almost every aid station to refill my bottles.

Still drenched, squishing in my shoes, burning eyes, and upset tummy, I start to wonder how I’m going to make it through two more windy sections as I get to that side of the island again. I stop and have a banana. That tastes pretty good. But I’m still feeling sick and have no energy. I think back to everything I’ve heard during my Ironman training. You always hit a point where you want to quit, but keep going, it’ll pass. Go to your happy place. Think of your Mandy Minion- the curvy GI Jane tough girl. Embrace the pain and sickness. I try to break it down into smaller chunks and not think about how far I still have to go.

The wind feels much stronger this time around – or maybe I’m just tired. I stop at the special needs bags feeling like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. I try to eat something but my stomach churns threateningly. I feel envious of the tall, lean Mexican guy a few feet away enjoying a Subway sandwich. How am I going to do this?

I get back on Oscar and start peddling. One foot at a time, stay efficient, keep drinking, I repeat over and over to myself. I think about Kermit, about is amazing ability to keep going during a race. I think about the Iron Cowboy, who did 30 of these things in one year last year. I think of my kids, who are probably tracking me online. I think of all my friends back home who are praying and cheering for me. I think of my Dad, and how he came all this way to see me finish this race. And I think of how Kermit joked that he wouldn’t marry me unless I finished an Ironman (he was totally teasing, though). So I keep going, and start praying like crazy. Please Father, please give me the strength to keep going. I can’t give up. I’ve come this far. I’ve trained so hard. I’ve had to overcome so many things this past year to even be here competing. Please help me to not give up.

When I see my dad again in town, I stop for a minute. I tell him I don’t know if I can finish the third loop. The wind so is bad and I’m so sick. I just don’t know if I can do it. I don’t want to quit, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough. He says, “Well, I’m proud of you either way. Don’t push yourself too hard so that you’ll have major problems.” I say, “Okay, but I’ve got plenty of time before the cut off, so I’m going to try it.” So I get back on, and start again.

I decide to use a strategy I also used in the Ogden marathon. Just make it to the next aid station, then you can decide. So I do. I stop and refill my water bottle, but then keep going. I notice my thoughts are getting more negative. I wish someone was here on the course to knock me out of this funk, to get in my face and tell me they believe in me and believe I can do this. I’m having a harder time convincing myself to keep going. I have to keep stopping every 5 minutes or so to stretch and rest. And when I’m riding, I’m barely going 11-13 miles per hour, and I haven’t even reached the windy section yet. This isn’t going to happen, I finally think. I’m just not strong enough. I’m going to have to drop out at the next aid station. My Garmin gets messed up, so my muddled brain is trying to figure out how much further to the next aid station, and it seems to take forever. I estimate I’m at about mile 90 (when I looked back at my watch, I went about 93 miles – I only had 19 left).

I almost start crying when I see the aid station. I stop at the first person I reach and tell him I’m done. Not knowing if he understands me, since he keeps speaking Spanish, he directs me to the ambulance. As they take my bike from me, I start swaying, and they rush to my side to help me into the ambulance. Soon after I’m settled, I start shivering like crazy. I can’t understand all they are saying, since it’s in Spanish, but I pick out a few words. The teenage boy keeps mentioning my eyes. They hurt so bad and I can barely keep them open. Everything is blurry too. They cover me with a blanket and start giving me oxygen. It takes forever to get back to town. I start crying, knowing I did the right thing, but sad that I couldn’t finish. All that hard work, money… all for nothing. I kept thinking, when it came down to it, no matter how hard I tried, or how much I sacrificed to stick with my training plan, it just wasn’t good enough.

By the time we get to the first aid and recovery area, I’m feeling better but have to pee soooo bad. The English-speaking doctor they deliver me to says, “Well, that’s a good sign if you need to use the bathroom.” So a lady directs me to the nearest porta-potty. I notice how sunny and warm it is and think about how cold it is back home. I feel much better after using the bathroom, so they discharge me to the recovery area. I am then surrounded by Ironman finishers- those that were strong enough to keep going. Well, I’m not one of those. I feel very awkward and embarrassed to be there. I get up to leave, but it starts pouring rain again. So I stay for a bit, watching everyone come in with their medals on. I feel horrible. I failed.

My bladder is about to explode again, so I skitter through the rain to the porta-potty again. There goes all that Gatorade. At least I didn’t let myself get dehydrated. I keep thinking I need to find my dad, so I try to find my bearings to head out to the crowds. I walk in the direction I think I should and find myself at T2. A kind lady offers to let me in to get some dry clothes out of one of my bags, but I figure what’s the point if it’s still pouring rain. So I take off my bike shoes, jam on my running shoes and head out to the crowd.

At another bathroom stop, I finally get to a mirror. I am horrified! My eyes are yellow and goopy, the whites are almost completely red, and they are so swollen. Oh how I wish I would have changed my contacts!

I wander around a while but can’t find dad. Moisture keeps stinging my tear ducts, but I don’t let it fall because of the pain. As I make my way back along the run course, watching all the athletes who were tougher than me, I spot a few friends and head over to them. I tell them what happened and they wrap their arms around me and hold me for a bit. I’m overwhelmed with disappointment in myself, but grateful I have friends here. They keep telling me, “look at all you did though”, and “you kept pushing for quite a while even when you felt sick”. “I’m so proud of you!” It doesn’t help right then, I just need time to process everything.

They tell me Kermit should be around at the end of his first loop in about 45 minutes or so. So I decide to wait and hope I can find my dad later. I stuff my disappointment deep down so I can cheer for my other friends in the race. It starts raining hard again, and I’m shivering, but barely notice it. Two friends come stand next to me and wrap me in a blanket to get me warm. It helps a little and I’m grateful they are there.

After quite a few cheers, laughs and tears, at last I see Kermit. My first thought is hoping he’s not disappointed in me. I tried to take all his advice. I really tried. But I failed. But when I see the look on his face, one of those that will forever be etched in my memory, I know he isn’t disappointed in me. He is relieved to see me. And I see love and compassion in his eyes. I see that he knows exactly how I feel since he didn’t finish his first two Ironman attempts. He really knows how I’m feeling. We embrace and he holds me tight and we start walking together. I finally see dad (he was only a couple hundred meters away from me this entire time) and tell him I’ll be back. I tell Kermit what happened and he says he is still proud of me. He asks me to walk/run with him the last lap, but I don’t want to get him in trouble or disqualified since technically I’m not supposed to be on the course since I dropped out. But he says it will be okay.

So after a few minutes, I turn around to go find my dad. He helps me rescue my bags, and waits while I change into my tri suit and try to clear my eyes of more yellow goop. Bathrooms in Mexico aren’t always fully stocked like ones in the USA. We get some chicken noodle soup at a restaurant along the course and eat near my friends. Thank goodness it stopped raining and was starting to warm back up. I keep wiping my eyes every few minutes but it hurts to touch them. I try to make myself cry to wash out the soap, but my tear ducts just burn. I am miserable.

Time passes quickly while we cheer on our other friends when they pass by. Before I know it, Kermit is heading towards us again and we head out together on his third and final loop. Other than my eyes, I am feeling pretty good. I keep replaying my race in my head. I want to support Kermit and not be a downer so I keep my feelings to myself. But I am feeling so much better physically, maybe I could’ve kept pushing and finished the bike. If only I could have dug a little deeper and reminded myself that the worst would soon be over, and then I could have moved on to my favorite part – the run. I wished I could go back and change it. But I couldn’t. So I walk with Kermit, hand in hand.

Suddenly, a race official comes up to us on his scooter. He said, “Ah, is everything okay?” Oh crap, I think. I just got caught and now Kermit is going to be disqualified. But Kermit says, “Yep, everything’s fine.” The official says “Okay”, and takes off on the scooter. “Whew!” I exclaim. “We really dodged a bullet there! I thought we were toast.” Kermit just chuckles. During the 9 mile walk/jog, we see that guy two more times. I think, “What is going on? Is he waiting until we get to the finish line to kick us out?” I am really nervous.

I really want to run, but Kermit says I’m going too fast. Then later, he speeds up. “Huh”, I think, “I’ll just go along with what his body is okay with.” He has some major blisters from all the rain getting in his shoes. Finally, we near the finish line. I hear the cheers and this overwhelming sadness drenches me, just like the rain on the bike this morning. Yes, I’ll go up to the finish line, but can I really cross it? I didn’t finish the race. I just wasn’t strong enough. I quit. I tell Kermit this is going to be hard for me and he just kinda shrugs it off. He seems preoccupied. We jog near the announcer and Kermit starts gesturing to him, but I can’t tell why. Then we are suddenly heading towards the finish line, and I notice Kermit has a microphone. What the…

 Then he starts talking into it. What is he doing? Is this the proposal he’s been joking about for a year? Is he really going to do this even though I didn’t finish? Am I really good enough to be with him? Is he sure he wants to be with me? Focus Mandy (good thing I can go back and watch the video)! Kermit is saying that even though I didn’t finish the race, that was okay, because I have an Ironheart. And as we’ve been doing this over the past year, we’ve had good times and bad. And that finish line right there can be our starting line. Kermit drops to one knee… oh my gosh, I can’t believe he’s doing this! He says, “Mandy, will you be my partner in this race of life?” and he holds out the ring. I hold out my hand and try to say yes loud enough, but the crowd is cheering, so the race director (the guy on the scooter I was worried would kick us off the course, but was actually in on the proposal the whole time) runs over with another microphone and I say in my clearest voice, “Yes!” Woo hoo I think. I couldn’t be more excited. A happy ending to my long and trying day. Kermit slides the ring on my finger, still a perfect fit, hugs me, and we walk hand in hand across the finish line – together.