Stuart and I signed up for Ironman Cancun 70.3 last December, with the idea that it would be the capstone to our third full season of triathlons. For the next 8 months I focused on completing the training that my Endurance Nation coaches set out for me, dropping weight, and generally getting physically and mentally prepared. I’ve never been a star athlete, so my goals were modest – breaking 7hrs with a stretch goal of breaking 6.5hrs. And then…”tragedy” struck just seven weeks before the race when I was diagnosed with posterior tibial and Achilles tendonitis in both legs. Suddenly I was trading internal training for physical therapy and running shoes for night splints. So in the final weeks leading up to the race, my goals shifted and I simply wanted to cross the finish line without causing myself any permanent injuries.

We arrived in Cancun a few days before the race in time to celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary. We had been preparing for race conditions like 2006, which we’d been told were 95 degrees and 90% humidity. Hot and humid Washington DC was the perfect place to prepare, but we were met with temps and humidity in the 80s…perfect! However, all wasn’t idyllic on the beach. The day before the race dawned to torrential rains. Looking out our balcony to the ocean we could see pounding surf. “There’s no way I’m swimming in that!” Filled with trepidation, we caught the shuttle to the race site for the practice swim. The race swim was in a protected cove, so while not exactly calm, the water was significantly less choppy than outside our hotel. A 30min practice swim had me slightly seasick, but being able to see the bottom was a nice change from the murky waters of the East Coast. Water continued to pour from the sky, and back on the bus we watched the roads covered with ankle-deep water, and cars with flooded engines. It felt like I needed an ark rather than a bike!

The next morning we woke to a still-menacing ocean, and I secretly harbored hopes of a duathlon, but no such luck. The transition area was laid out by age group, so I got the chance to meet and chat with some of my “competition” (Meeting so many awesome folks this week was actually one of the amazing high points of this experience). A few of us joked that we’d just do the swim together so that no one would have to officially be the slowest out of the water. And then it was time… The water was considerably calmer than it had been yesterday. I was in the last AG wave, and Stuart was a few waves in front of me, so we kissed one another goodbye, promising to be safe and see each other out on the course. I cheered for him until I lost sight of him in the water.

A few nervous minutes later it was my turn. I have a history of panicking during the swim leg of triathlons and the first 100m or so were rough with lots of kicking and churning, which wasn’t an auspicious start. I got kicked and ended up choking on a mouthful of seawater and felt the initial stab of fear, but managed to calm myself. So instead of fighting it, I did a series of deep breaths and underwater surges to swim under and around the crowd. Finally, I settled in to a fairly decent rhythm, breathing only facing the shore so that I didn’t swallow more water from incoming waves. Being able to see the bottom was a reassuring boon, and I glided along calmly until before I knew it I was done! Out of the water two minutes faster than my goal time. Swim – 43:01

It was a long jog to T1. One of the benefits of being a slow swimmer in the last wave is that it’s really easy to find your bike! It was only a few minutes and I was off. Pancake flat roads allowed me to quickly settle into my desired HR and cadence. My morale was high – the swim had gone better than I’d dared to dream, but I could see rain clouds in the distance. The course was a long stretch out past the airport, two loops, and then the return. Shortly after beginning my first loop about 20mi into the ride, the skies opened up. That panic I’d averted during the swim hit me as my visibility dropped to near zero, my speed dropped to 11mph, and my sense that at any moment I would crash and end this dream went into overdrive. It certainly didn’t help when a huge drafting pack starting their second lap blew past me, the guy in the lead screaming at me to “get the f*%@ out of the way”. I was already on the edge of the road and the shoulder was flooded…where did these cheating a$$es expect me to go? I fought off tears, working my way through a mental rosary in exchange for safely getting to T2. After about ten minutes, the rain and my tears cleared up and I re-settled into my rhythm.

Huge packs of cyclists were heading in the opposite direction towards the turn-around. At one point, a pack on their second loop came from behind me and surrounded me on all sides. Curious and trapped, I kept my cadence and HR the same to see what the advantage of drafting really is. And for the 60sec or so before this pack spit me out the backside, I watched my speed jump by 2mph! Geez, I was really ticked off by these people cheating now that I saw firsthand the benefits derived from drafting! Happily though, I saw Stuart a few minutes later and we shouted hello’s at each other. As I hit the halfway point, the road was really beginning to empty out – again, a combination of being in the last wave and just being a slower cyclist than many. There was a huge temptation to start to throw it in a big gear and just hammer so that I wouldn’t be left behind. And that’s when I pulled out my ace-in-the-hole…the mantra I’d written on the whiteboard in my office…the mental post-it note I’d used to remind myself of what to do…”Trust your coaches”. After all, I’d listened to these guys for 9mos, following their advice and doing the workouts they told me to do. Why would I then ignore them and their expertise in the middle of what to date was the biggest race of my life. So, reaffirming that I would “trust your coaches” I stuck to my plan. (BTW, yes, I talk to myself in the third person. Doesn’t everyone?)

At about mile 40, a woman pulled up next to me. She said she figured she’d introduce herself as she passed me this times since we’d been leapfrogging each other all day. Her name was Lindy and she was from Florida. It seemed as though Lindy, myself and a guy in a team Mexico jersey were the last three out on the course. Strung across the highway we kept passing folks that had flatted on the roadside. Again, I offered up a few silent prayers to just get safely back to T2. With 9mi left, the rain began to fall again. This time, I didn’t care. The road was empty except for Lindy and the Mexican dude. It was time to hammer. I had looked at my watch and knew that, assuming I got safely back to T2, I was going to finish this Half Ironman. I couldn’t get too excited yet – al it would take is one falt tire, but there was this faintest little glimmer of a smile inside my soul. I leaped ahead of Lindy and the dude, and kept going. I don’t have the data breakdown to prove it, but that last 9mi were the fastest of my day – easily going 19+mph in the rain all the while telling myself to “trust your coaches”. Bike – 3:19:41 (16.3mph avg, goal had been between 16 and 16.5. Avg cadence of 93rpm)

The rain let up as I arrived in T2. On my way out to the run course, there was a woman holding a 5lb jar of Vaseline. I very immodestly scooped out a handful and liberally applied it to all those areas a bit tender from the bike. Who cares who was watching at that point – I had a half ironman to complete!

I think it’s safe to say that I smiled more in the next 2.5hrs than anyone ever has during a half marathon! This was it. Even if I had to walk the entire distance, I had almost 4hrs before the race cutoff. I was going to be a Half Ironman!!! My legs felt great, but I was nervous about the tendons acting up. Lindy caught up with me and the next 5mi flew by as we ran together between aid stations. I passed Stuart 3x on the run, each time smiling, shouting and high-fiving. He looked great! Lindy slowed with some GI issues as we neared the end of the first loop, so I wished her well and forged ahead. On the two loop course, faces looked familiar. I ran with John from Illinois for a while. I saw Lisa from Calgary who had become a great friend throughout the last few days in Cancun. I grinned like a goof at Ashley from North Carolina who was ahead of me and shouted to her “I’m going to do it!” “I’m so proud of you,” she responded. I lost track of the number of people who cheered for me – that girl who keeps smiling, that girl in the running skirt, that girl in the pink Trifuel top. I was known by many names that afternoon…all of them good.

And then finally, there was only a mile to go. Strangely, it got quiet. There was no one around me. I felt great and wanted to keep running, but slowed to a walk every few minutes and stretched my legs. “Trust your coaches.” There was no point in doing major damage now, and I did want to run rather than hobble through the finish line. With about a half mile to go, it was time to run for real. Before I knew it, there was Stuart snapping photos and yelling that he loved me. I continued around the bend, where was the finish? A quick dogleg and it was right in front of me. The official race photos show what a dork I was. Screaming and crying I jumped up and down as I crossed the finish line. “I did it! I did it! Oh my God, I actually did it!” Unbelievably, the clock read 6:41 and change. I’d almost made it to my original stretch goal! I pushed through the crowd looking for Stuart. We hugged and kissed and smiled and hugged some more. Then and only then did I put that hard-earned and much loved finishers medal around my neck. Run – 2:30:47 (goal was 2:30)

Final time – 6:41:55

A million thanks to everyone who put so much into helping me achieve this perfect day. My coaches Patrick and Eric. My family and friends who encouraged me, and tolerated the limits in placed on my social life. A shout-out to my fellow Cancun athletes who made this race so much fun – Lisa from Calgary, Ashley and Dave from Davidson NC, John from Chicago, Lindy from Florida, Deena from Florida, and Mark from Fairfax VA.
And most especially to Stuart.
This is only the beginning…see you all in 2008!