My Journey to Ironman Part 3: IM Attempt Take 1

December 1, 2013. Ironman Cozumel. I’d done a couple of practice swims - my first swimming in the ocean - before race day. The water was so choppy, Keena had me revert to putting my face in the water and blowing bubbles before each swim (I’ve since used that trick many times at race starts - it always helps calm me down and adapt to the water temperature and conditions - I highly recommend it!). Because the water was so choppy, the race director changed the swim course and shortened it a little. Riding the bus to the start, one of our friends mentioned putting baby soap in your goggles can keep them from fogging up. She said not to rinse it all out though, or it wouldn’t work. I thought, oh, that sounds like a great idea, I’ll try it! Anyone who’s done lots of triathlons knows, don’t do anything new on race day! I hadn’t learned that rule quite yet. James had a fellow athlete swim next to me the whole swim. I realized a little ways in that I had not rinsed out my goggles enough after the baby soap - and my eyes were burning! I concentrated on the fish, sunken ship, divers taking pictures, and just trying to be in the moment. I had been worried about the cut-off, even with swimming with the current. When I got out of the water, just before Eric, who had started before me, with a time of 1:07, I was super excited! I survived! I didn’t quit! And the swim was even enjoyable!

A couple of miles into the bike, it started pouring down rain. And I saw a snake slithering on the side of the road. I remember thinking… “I’m doing an Ironman! I’m doing it! In Mexico! This is awesome!” Despite the warm rain, I felt awesome. Everything changed around mile 30. The bike was a three-loop course that went around half of the island. Heading back into town the first time, I started feeling extreme nausea. Looking back, I think the salt water from the swim, plus all the excitement, and maybe fueling too soon after the swim wreaked havoc on my innards. I kept thinking, “Please don’t puke on all those cute kids cheering for me. Please don’t puke.” From that point on, anything I tried to eat just made me feel worse. I did my best to down as much water and Gatorade as possible, but it just wasn’t enough calories. The wind on the back side of the island was kicking up. My eyes were getting goopy. On my third lap, I was only averaging 9-10 mph. At about 91 miles, I stopped at an aid station and had the ambulance take me in. My heart rate and blood pressure weren’t good, and my eyes were scaring them, but I only understood bits and pieces because they were speaking Spanish. Shortly after I got to the medical tent near T2, an English-speaking volunteer came to help me. Right after, I had to go to the bathroom really bad. She said that was good, because it meant I wasn’t dehydrated. Over the next hour, I felt like my bladder was at the head of Niagara Falls.

I felt okay after a while, minus my eyes, so I went to get some dry clothes and shoes from my run bag. Once dry (but not clean) I set out to find my dad, who I was so grateful to have at the race. When I finally met up with him, he got me some chicken broth, which helped me feel better almost immediately. Once again, I found myself really disappointed. I wondered if I would have forced myself to eat, if I would have been able to finish that bike. I saw Eric finishing his first lap on the run. He had been worried about me too. He still wonders if he would have stayed with me on the bike, maybe he could have motivated me to keep going. He got permission to have me join him on the third lap of the run (normally not allowed). The race director kept riding past us on a scooter and I was scared to death I’d get him disqualified. Eric kept slowing down and speeding up, and I had no idea what he was doing. Turns out, he was trying to space us so we weren’t too close to anyone else. As we approached the finish line, I felt bummed. He had told me he wouldn’t marry me if I didn’t finish an Ironman (he was joking, but I didn’t know that yet). Suddenly, the race director was there, handing him a microphone. I was like, uh, is this normal? Then right before the line, Eric got down on one knee and proposed! I said yes of course! We made the local paper the next morning and was on the Ironman homepage sidebar. Best. Proposal. Ever!

I counted this as about 3 steps back from mental toughness though. And the DNF, my second of the year, haunted me for the next 4 years. My mental battles were just beginning.