Well, I finished. In 16:41. Yes, 16 hours and 41 of moving. A long day. But I finished. And I couldn't be happier.
Part I - Pre Race
Ryan and I headed up to Lake Placid via a few necessary errands on Thursday. We made the drive in surprising time: only 8 hours, arriving in time to join my teammates for dinner. Team Z headquarters was located at the Rock and River Climbing Lodge in Keene, about 10 miles outside of Lake Placid. It was fantastic to be able to have run of the place, sort of our own Team Z oasis.
Anyway, we headed out to dinner where I was able to dine on fantastic pork tenderloin. Impressive. After a great meal and long drive to upstate NY, it didn't take long for either of us to crash. Ryan was originally going to camp on the opposite side of town, but with difficult logistics and such he wound up just crashing in my and Tes' room.
Friday morning we woke for a relaxing swim workout. Upon arriving in Lake Placid, the town was electric. Mirror Lake was filled with other swimmers. I swam one loop of the course and felt rather relaxed. No problem. Then it was time to take care of packet pick-up, lunch, and then meeting Mom. After all was said and done, Ryan and I headed back to the R & R for a good night's sleep.
Saturday was simple. Just a short swim, short bike, and short run, each lasting no more than 5 or 10 minutes. Fantastic. It was then time to dump off my gear and bike and head on back to the R & R for our pre-race feast. And it started to rain. I thought to myself, no problem; get the rain out of its system. However, the rain seemed endless. I worried about my bike and gear getting soaked, but then again, it was out of my control. Nothing was going to stop me. Deal with it and move on.
Friends and family were abound for our pre-race feast. Siri developed a beautiful slide show showing pictures from the past year which brought laughter and tears. And Ed gave his pre-race chat about the development of Team Z. He reflected on some of the moments this past year and began to shed some tears. I could not help but shed some tears myself. I was rather jittery, however. I mean, I loved having the support of friends, family, and Team Z there to support us, but I think there came a point where I just needed some quiet time to myself. I quickly retreated. My racing teammates and I shared a traditional pre-race brew alone, shared a few short stories, and then it was time for bed.
Part II - The Big Day
I awoke at 3am after a rather restless sleep. I had wild dreams about the Ironman. Yet, at the same time, it hadn't quite struck me yet what I was about to embark on. I got myself ready and soon we were out the door.
And it was still raining. All I could do was hope for the best. I couldn't control the weather. All I could control was how I reacted to the weather. I got body marked, checked my gear, put air in my tires, and headed to the Team Z tent to take a deep breath.
About 1/2 hour prior to the race I began to panic. My mom had yet to arrive and Ryan had yet to return from the R & R after an emergency retrieval of Justin's wetsuit. I was overcome with emotion. I mean, I knew my mom would arrive (which she did) and was glad Ryan was there to help and knew he was on his way back, but I simply could not help myself. I think what I was about to embark upon suddenly came crashing down on me at once. What? What? I need to get my wetsuit on? I need to cross the timing mat? I need to get in the water? I entered with Betsy and Brian and finally was able to tune everything else out and relax.
The canon went off and we were off. I felt surprisingly relaxed in the water. I had the usual bumping the water and was once pushed fully under (and managed to stop short of taking a big gulp of water), but it did not seem to bother me. I was in some strange zone. Tuning everything else out. I finished the two loops and quickly saw Ed, Kerri, and Matt (who was filming). I joked with Ed that I wasn't the last one out of the water and he replied, "No kidding! Look at your time!" I had expected to finish the swim in about 1:45, but managed to exit the water after 1:26. Wow. I was rather thrilled.
It's a little distance from the lake to the transition area. My wetsuit was peeled off and I went down the corral, excited to see Team Z supporters along the way. I saw Ryan and gave him a hug, just thrilled to see him. He laughed and told me to get on my way.
All right: T1. I changed clothes and shared some laughs with my teammates and prepped to head on the bike. The rain had stopped (although the roads were wet) and was on a high. I felt fantastic during the first bike loop. I flew down the hill into Keene and cruised along the Ausable River. I felt strong... Perhaps too strong. Along the river I was moving at about 20 mph, which in hindsight may have been my first mistake. But at the time, I was not thinking about that. I also was not thinking about the fact that I was primarily consuming water instead of Gatorade. The thought of drinking Gatorade simply did not appeal to me. I just wanted to drink cool clean fresh water. Water never tasted so good. Mistake #2.
Nevertheless, I cruised along. I caught up with Helen about 1/3 or so into the first loop. We were happy to see one another and began to sing songs, leapfrogging back and forth to keep each other company. As we climbed along Whiteface Mountain, we took pictures and had a great time. I once again saw Ed, Kerri, and Matt and Ed commented just how strong I looked. I felt strong. In fact, I almost felt invincible. Helen and I finished our first loop, stopping at special needs. Then we passed by Team Z HQ, through town, and I just felt alive.
However, my high quickly disappeared. Departing town felt lonely. Only 5 miles into the second loop. I pushed along, slowly. Helen was still strong, so she had left me. I simply felt alone. I pushed along, knowing the downhill into Keene would be coming along shortly, giving me new life. As the downhill arrived, I had a sense of relief. A chance to rest. I did not dive down the hill, allowing gravity to do all the work, only pedaling here and there to avoid cramping.
Luckily, the break did give me some new life. However, I shortly began feel down and out once again. I began to cry, wondering why I had decided to do this. I reminded myself why. Because I can. I stopped crying as quickly as I had started, not allowing myself to become disconnected. I saw Doug, Mary Lou, and Robin along the course, running. The company was much welcomed.
Departing Jay, heading into Wilmington, was tough. I saw Susan (and I do not remember who else) and was suffering. I mean, there was no way I was going to quit. I did not train all year, bring my mom and Ryan out there, and invest so much of my life to just quit the race. But I was struggling.
Approaching the out and back in Wilmington helped. It helped a lot. There was a huge Team Z crowd on the corner. I fed off their energy. Seeing other Team Zers on the out and back was fantastic. I no longer felt alone. I was so proud to be part of our team as strangers approached me with positive comments about our team. I stopped in the port-a-potty (I was having some "issues" to put it nicely) and came back to life. I also realized my need for Gatorade. (I had not had any since my initial bottle several hours earlier.) I got some new wind in my lungs. I exited the out and back once again seeing Team Z non-racers and supporters feeling a lot better.
I knew for sure at that point I'd finish the second loop. I enjoyed the scenery heading back toward Lake Placid. And then my bad right knee began to fail me. I was forced to pedal, pedal, pedal, then coast, coast, coast. I would coast until I lost momentum. Then I would repeat. Pedal, pedal, pedal.... coast, coast, coast. I saw some people cheering along the sidelines and asked the time. It was 3:58pm and I had 11 miles left in the loop. No problem. I'd make the cutoff.
I was thrilled to return into town and get off the bike. I have never wanted to get off my bike more. Siri quickly joined me in the transition area. We shared some quick bike stories and were ready to head out on the run. We had over 7 hours to do our marathon. I recalled that I once had to walk all but the first 3 miles of the New Mexico Marathon, due to knee injury (surprise, surprise) and that took me 6:40. I could do a marathon in under 7 hours. Even if I had to walk most the way.
I ran in short spurts, starting at 15 seconds each, working my way up to a minute. I'd run for short spurts, then walk. The out and back run course helped as I saw Team Zers every few minutes. I was near a man named Lyle, who was 75 (!)- the only one in his age group- who asked me three different times whether or not we'd finish the race. After the third time, his questioning began to mess with my head. I purposely distanced myself from him. I mean, naturally I was impressed that he was out there, but all the same I was not in the mood to deal with his questioning. I knew I had come this far. No way was I going to stop and not finish. No way.
Finishing my first loop was difficult. Several people were finishing and people along the sidelines said to me, "Way to finish strong". I shook my head and said I was only on my first loop. Many recoiled and said, "Oh, we'll still be out here." It was tough. Tough to head out on that second loop. I continued to scoot along. Near an aid station, I saw Susan along the side (who was on bike), with her back to the course. I called out to her and when she moved away, I saw Bill, sitting, wrapped in a space blanket. My heart began to sank. I had already guessed that Pam got pulled from the bike course. It just broke my heart. (I later saw Pam, who despite getting pulled from the bike course, ran anyway to support us, and heard that Bill cheered for finishers. I am not sure I could have done the same. I am very impressed by both of them.)
I continued along as the sun began to fade away. Soon it was dark. And almost scary. Some runners were spooked by the blackness and simply began to run out of fear. There were lights about every 1/2 mile, but for the most part, all I could see were the glowstick necklaces draped around racers' necks. And then the rain returned. It was dark. It was raining. And I could hear the finish line announcer. But I still had a good 6-8 miles to go. A man in a truck pulled up along side of me and offered me a long sleeved shirt. I gratefully accepted it. I was so cold and wet and miserable. Soon thereafter, I approached the aid station giving away space blankets. I wrapped myself in the blanket, using it as a rain jacket. I just wanted to get to the finish line.
Determination kept my feet moving forward. I was greeted by Pam who had amazing energy. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but was not much up for talking. In fact, I hadn't said much to other Team Zers for a while, just simply waving as they went by. I felt like I did not have the strength to speak. Later on, many of them commented that I seemed spacey and had concerns about my condition. As we came back into town, I saw Ari on his bike. I was grateful to see him, and in many ways impressed that he was out there on his bike, in the rain, just to see us. See if we were ok. I asked for him to spend some moments with me. He did, but then went on, as EB was behind me. He needed to check on her too.
I came back into town, and before heading back on the last short out and back, I was greeted by my mom and Ryan. My mom was thrilled to see me, excited like I've never seen her before. And Ryan decided to spend those last couple miles with me. He encouraged me to move on, got me to run a little (and he actually ran faster than me, wearing flip flops), and kept me moving.
Finishing the out and back, my mom joined us and the three of us entered the speedskating oval. The area was on fire. I had a sudden surge of energy and found myself running. The entire crowd was cheering. I crossed the finish line in 16:41. And could not have been happier.
I was greeted by Ed, who could not have been more proud. And Jill was working the finish line.
OK. So crossed the finish line, got my medal, took pictures, yadda, yadda, yadda. I wanted to go back and see the rest of the finishers come in. I didn't want to go medical. I didn't want to eat food. I wanted to go and watch the finish line. Oh no. Had to go to medical. Ryan and Jill walked me in. During the race, I actually gained weight. There was a 6 lb difference between my pre- and post-race weights. Now, part of it was due to differences in scales, part of it was due to wearing wet shoes (I initially weighed myself without shoes), but 6 pounds? Medical was a little concerned. I shook it off, simply wanting to get back outside and cheer people in. Ryan went to get me pizza. OK. Pizza sounded good. I sat down with Ed and Ryan and my mom (who left shortly thereafter) and ate pizza. I was a little chatterbox. In many ways, I acted like no big deal. I was more excited to hear about others than worry about my own self. I asked Ed how other Team Zers fared.
Midnight passed, and it was time to pack up and go home. I wanted a beer (but only drank about 3 sips) and Ryan drove us all home. By the time we got back to the R & R, all I wanted was a hot shower and to go to bed. I showered, dressed in my pajamas, and then began to shiver. Uncontrollably. I began to head toward my bed, thinking I'd simply warm up once I hit the covers. Tes would not let me. She insisted on drying my hair and Ryan insisted I put on fleece. I put on Tes' ski hat and wool socks. Ryan brought me some tea. I felt a little better, warming up. I talked with Ryan, but apparently was not making much sense. I talked like a child, in incomplete sentences. Ryan grew concerned. He went to get Pam. I seemed to be making sense to my own self. I just wanted to go to bed and was wondering what all the fuss was about. Pam took a quick look at me and said we were going to the ER. What? Why? I was tired. Very tired. Finally, I gave in and agreed to go. Did I have a choice? I think seeing Ryan's grave concern about me made me realize this was serious.
Ryan grabbed Susan (we were way low on gas) for a ride and the four of us were off. We got to the ER and Pam did most of the talking. I was too tired and out of it to say much. I still did not believe anything was wrong with me other than just pure exhaustion. The medical staff took my blood, hooked me up to an IV, and I was fast asleep.
I woke the next morning about 5:30 and then met up with Susan, Pam, and Ryan, who were camped out in another room. And then I was released.
Apparently I suffered from hyponatremia from the lack of Gatorade, which resulted in the weight gain and a potassium imbalance. Lesson learned there. I am glad that my friends took care of me.
I had not realized what I accomplished on Sunday until writing this. What a tough, yet amazing day. Will I ever do another? I don't know. Never say never. I am glad that I am now an Ironman finisher. No one can take that away from me. I am grateful that I got to share the experience with my team, one of my best friends, and my mom.
I wound up raising $600 for the American Heart Association. I am forever changed by the experiences I have had over the past year. I am glad I did it. And now it is time for rest.
Part I - Pre Race
Ryan and I headed up to Lake Placid via a few necessary errands on Thursday. We made the drive in surprising time: only 8 hours, arriving in time to join my teammates for dinner. Team Z headquarters was located at the Rock and River Climbing Lodge in Keene, about 10 miles outside of Lake Placid. It was fantastic to be able to have run of the place, sort of our own Team Z oasis.
Anyway, we headed out to dinner where I was able to dine on fantastic pork tenderloin. Impressive. After a great meal and long drive to upstate NY, it didn't take long for either of us to crash. Ryan was originally going to camp on the opposite side of town, but with difficult logistics and such he wound up just crashing in my and Tes' room.
Friday morning we woke for a relaxing swim workout. Upon arriving in Lake Placid, the town was electric. Mirror Lake was filled with other swimmers. I swam one loop of the course and felt rather relaxed. No problem. Then it was time to take care of packet pick-up, lunch, and then meeting Mom. After all was said and done, Ryan and I headed back to the R & R for a good night's sleep.
Saturday was simple. Just a short swim, short bike, and short run, each lasting no more than 5 or 10 minutes. Fantastic. It was then time to dump off my gear and bike and head on back to the R & R for our pre-race feast. And it started to rain. I thought to myself, no problem; get the rain out of its system. However, the rain seemed endless. I worried about my bike and gear getting soaked, but then again, it was out of my control. Nothing was going to stop me. Deal with it and move on.
Friends and family were abound for our pre-race feast. Siri developed a beautiful slide show showing pictures from the past year which brought laughter and tears. And Ed gave his pre-race chat about the development of Team Z. He reflected on some of the moments this past year and began to shed some tears. I could not help but shed some tears myself. I was rather jittery, however. I mean, I loved having the support of friends, family, and Team Z there to support us, but I think there came a point where I just needed some quiet time to myself. I quickly retreated. My racing teammates and I shared a traditional pre-race brew alone, shared a few short stories, and then it was time for bed.
Part II - The Big Day
I awoke at 3am after a rather restless sleep. I had wild dreams about the Ironman. Yet, at the same time, it hadn't quite struck me yet what I was about to embark on. I got myself ready and soon we were out the door.
And it was still raining. All I could do was hope for the best. I couldn't control the weather. All I could control was how I reacted to the weather. I got body marked, checked my gear, put air in my tires, and headed to the Team Z tent to take a deep breath.
About 1/2 hour prior to the race I began to panic. My mom had yet to arrive and Ryan had yet to return from the R & R after an emergency retrieval of Justin's wetsuit. I was overcome with emotion. I mean, I knew my mom would arrive (which she did) and was glad Ryan was there to help and knew he was on his way back, but I simply could not help myself. I think what I was about to embark upon suddenly came crashing down on me at once. What? What? I need to get my wetsuit on? I need to cross the timing mat? I need to get in the water? I entered with Betsy and Brian and finally was able to tune everything else out and relax.
The canon went off and we were off. I felt surprisingly relaxed in the water. I had the usual bumping the water and was once pushed fully under (and managed to stop short of taking a big gulp of water), but it did not seem to bother me. I was in some strange zone. Tuning everything else out. I finished the two loops and quickly saw Ed, Kerri, and Matt (who was filming). I joked with Ed that I wasn't the last one out of the water and he replied, "No kidding! Look at your time!" I had expected to finish the swim in about 1:45, but managed to exit the water after 1:26. Wow. I was rather thrilled.
It's a little distance from the lake to the transition area. My wetsuit was peeled off and I went down the corral, excited to see Team Z supporters along the way. I saw Ryan and gave him a hug, just thrilled to see him. He laughed and told me to get on my way.
All right: T1. I changed clothes and shared some laughs with my teammates and prepped to head on the bike. The rain had stopped (although the roads were wet) and was on a high. I felt fantastic during the first bike loop. I flew down the hill into Keene and cruised along the Ausable River. I felt strong... Perhaps too strong. Along the river I was moving at about 20 mph, which in hindsight may have been my first mistake. But at the time, I was not thinking about that. I also was not thinking about the fact that I was primarily consuming water instead of Gatorade. The thought of drinking Gatorade simply did not appeal to me. I just wanted to drink cool clean fresh water. Water never tasted so good. Mistake #2.
Nevertheless, I cruised along. I caught up with Helen about 1/3 or so into the first loop. We were happy to see one another and began to sing songs, leapfrogging back and forth to keep each other company. As we climbed along Whiteface Mountain, we took pictures and had a great time. I once again saw Ed, Kerri, and Matt and Ed commented just how strong I looked. I felt strong. In fact, I almost felt invincible. Helen and I finished our first loop, stopping at special needs. Then we passed by Team Z HQ, through town, and I just felt alive.
However, my high quickly disappeared. Departing town felt lonely. Only 5 miles into the second loop. I pushed along, slowly. Helen was still strong, so she had left me. I simply felt alone. I pushed along, knowing the downhill into Keene would be coming along shortly, giving me new life. As the downhill arrived, I had a sense of relief. A chance to rest. I did not dive down the hill, allowing gravity to do all the work, only pedaling here and there to avoid cramping.
Luckily, the break did give me some new life. However, I shortly began feel down and out once again. I began to cry, wondering why I had decided to do this. I reminded myself why. Because I can. I stopped crying as quickly as I had started, not allowing myself to become disconnected. I saw Doug, Mary Lou, and Robin along the course, running. The company was much welcomed.
Departing Jay, heading into Wilmington, was tough. I saw Susan (and I do not remember who else) and was suffering. I mean, there was no way I was going to quit. I did not train all year, bring my mom and Ryan out there, and invest so much of my life to just quit the race. But I was struggling.
Approaching the out and back in Wilmington helped. It helped a lot. There was a huge Team Z crowd on the corner. I fed off their energy. Seeing other Team Zers on the out and back was fantastic. I no longer felt alone. I was so proud to be part of our team as strangers approached me with positive comments about our team. I stopped in the port-a-potty (I was having some "issues" to put it nicely) and came back to life. I also realized my need for Gatorade. (I had not had any since my initial bottle several hours earlier.) I got some new wind in my lungs. I exited the out and back once again seeing Team Z non-racers and supporters feeling a lot better.
I knew for sure at that point I'd finish the second loop. I enjoyed the scenery heading back toward Lake Placid. And then my bad right knee began to fail me. I was forced to pedal, pedal, pedal, then coast, coast, coast. I would coast until I lost momentum. Then I would repeat. Pedal, pedal, pedal.... coast, coast, coast. I saw some people cheering along the sidelines and asked the time. It was 3:58pm and I had 11 miles left in the loop. No problem. I'd make the cutoff.
I was thrilled to return into town and get off the bike. I have never wanted to get off my bike more. Siri quickly joined me in the transition area. We shared some quick bike stories and were ready to head out on the run. We had over 7 hours to do our marathon. I recalled that I once had to walk all but the first 3 miles of the New Mexico Marathon, due to knee injury (surprise, surprise) and that took me 6:40. I could do a marathon in under 7 hours. Even if I had to walk most the way.
I ran in short spurts, starting at 15 seconds each, working my way up to a minute. I'd run for short spurts, then walk. The out and back run course helped as I saw Team Zers every few minutes. I was near a man named Lyle, who was 75 (!)- the only one in his age group- who asked me three different times whether or not we'd finish the race. After the third time, his questioning began to mess with my head. I purposely distanced myself from him. I mean, naturally I was impressed that he was out there, but all the same I was not in the mood to deal with his questioning. I knew I had come this far. No way was I going to stop and not finish. No way.
Finishing my first loop was difficult. Several people were finishing and people along the sidelines said to me, "Way to finish strong". I shook my head and said I was only on my first loop. Many recoiled and said, "Oh, we'll still be out here." It was tough. Tough to head out on that second loop. I continued to scoot along. Near an aid station, I saw Susan along the side (who was on bike), with her back to the course. I called out to her and when she moved away, I saw Bill, sitting, wrapped in a space blanket. My heart began to sank. I had already guessed that Pam got pulled from the bike course. It just broke my heart. (I later saw Pam, who despite getting pulled from the bike course, ran anyway to support us, and heard that Bill cheered for finishers. I am not sure I could have done the same. I am very impressed by both of them.)
I continued along as the sun began to fade away. Soon it was dark. And almost scary. Some runners were spooked by the blackness and simply began to run out of fear. There were lights about every 1/2 mile, but for the most part, all I could see were the glowstick necklaces draped around racers' necks. And then the rain returned. It was dark. It was raining. And I could hear the finish line announcer. But I still had a good 6-8 miles to go. A man in a truck pulled up along side of me and offered me a long sleeved shirt. I gratefully accepted it. I was so cold and wet and miserable. Soon thereafter, I approached the aid station giving away space blankets. I wrapped myself in the blanket, using it as a rain jacket. I just wanted to get to the finish line.
Determination kept my feet moving forward. I was greeted by Pam who had amazing energy. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but was not much up for talking. In fact, I hadn't said much to other Team Zers for a while, just simply waving as they went by. I felt like I did not have the strength to speak. Later on, many of them commented that I seemed spacey and had concerns about my condition. As we came back into town, I saw Ari on his bike. I was grateful to see him, and in many ways impressed that he was out there on his bike, in the rain, just to see us. See if we were ok. I asked for him to spend some moments with me. He did, but then went on, as EB was behind me. He needed to check on her too.
I came back into town, and before heading back on the last short out and back, I was greeted by my mom and Ryan. My mom was thrilled to see me, excited like I've never seen her before. And Ryan decided to spend those last couple miles with me. He encouraged me to move on, got me to run a little (and he actually ran faster than me, wearing flip flops), and kept me moving.
Finishing the out and back, my mom joined us and the three of us entered the speedskating oval. The area was on fire. I had a sudden surge of energy and found myself running. The entire crowd was cheering. I crossed the finish line in 16:41. And could not have been happier.
I was greeted by Ed, who could not have been more proud. And Jill was working the finish line.
OK. So crossed the finish line, got my medal, took pictures, yadda, yadda, yadda. I wanted to go back and see the rest of the finishers come in. I didn't want to go medical. I didn't want to eat food. I wanted to go and watch the finish line. Oh no. Had to go to medical. Ryan and Jill walked me in. During the race, I actually gained weight. There was a 6 lb difference between my pre- and post-race weights. Now, part of it was due to differences in scales, part of it was due to wearing wet shoes (I initially weighed myself without shoes), but 6 pounds? Medical was a little concerned. I shook it off, simply wanting to get back outside and cheer people in. Ryan went to get me pizza. OK. Pizza sounded good. I sat down with Ed and Ryan and my mom (who left shortly thereafter) and ate pizza. I was a little chatterbox. In many ways, I acted like no big deal. I was more excited to hear about others than worry about my own self. I asked Ed how other Team Zers fared.
Midnight passed, and it was time to pack up and go home. I wanted a beer (but only drank about 3 sips) and Ryan drove us all home. By the time we got back to the R & R, all I wanted was a hot shower and to go to bed. I showered, dressed in my pajamas, and then began to shiver. Uncontrollably. I began to head toward my bed, thinking I'd simply warm up once I hit the covers. Tes would not let me. She insisted on drying my hair and Ryan insisted I put on fleece. I put on Tes' ski hat and wool socks. Ryan brought me some tea. I felt a little better, warming up. I talked with Ryan, but apparently was not making much sense. I talked like a child, in incomplete sentences. Ryan grew concerned. He went to get Pam. I seemed to be making sense to my own self. I just wanted to go to bed and was wondering what all the fuss was about. Pam took a quick look at me and said we were going to the ER. What? Why? I was tired. Very tired. Finally, I gave in and agreed to go. Did I have a choice? I think seeing Ryan's grave concern about me made me realize this was serious.
Ryan grabbed Susan (we were way low on gas) for a ride and the four of us were off. We got to the ER and Pam did most of the talking. I was too tired and out of it to say much. I still did not believe anything was wrong with me other than just pure exhaustion. The medical staff took my blood, hooked me up to an IV, and I was fast asleep.
I woke the next morning about 5:30 and then met up with Susan, Pam, and Ryan, who were camped out in another room. And then I was released.
Apparently I suffered from hyponatremia from the lack of Gatorade, which resulted in the weight gain and a potassium imbalance. Lesson learned there. I am glad that my friends took care of me.
I had not realized what I accomplished on Sunday until writing this. What a tough, yet amazing day. Will I ever do another? I don't know. Never say never. I am glad that I am now an Ironman finisher. No one can take that away from me. I am grateful that I got to share the experience with my team, one of my best friends, and my mom.
I wound up raising $600 for the American Heart Association. I am forever changed by the experiences I have had over the past year. I am glad I did it. And now it is time for rest.
