Ironman Cozumel Race Report

The day we arrived

The Swim:
When we landed in Cozumel the wind was brutal and the waves were fierce. So, it's no surprise that being the spaz of a swimmer that I am I was already starting to panic. I was almost secretly excited the swim practice was cancelled for the next day, until Sati insisted that we get in the water anyway so I could get my panic attack out of the way. I was not happy before the practice swim, and I was more unhappy after the swim, when it took me 5-10 minutes to quell the panic I felt from almost drowning in the ocean. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but that's what a panic attack is, right? Day two practice was also cancelled due to the conditions, but I felt pretty strong in the water that day, and knew I would make it out on race day.

Race day: Well, it turns out the swim was the BEST part of the race. The weather conditions were still bad on race day, so they changed the course and had us swim slightly less than two miles with the current. Best swim time EVER!! Under an hour for an Ironman swim ;)


The Bike:
I felt so strong starting the bike. The course started inland and there was a slight tailwind pushing us for the first 5 or so miles. We had to force ourselves to slow down, so we didn't push over 21-22 mph. But then, as we turned the corner, it started to rain. Not a few misty sprinkles, or even a good soaking to rinse off the salt from the swim. A head on deluge, making it almost impossible to see in front of us. Add the wind, and it was a dangerous situation. Now, I did quite a few of my training rides in windy conditions along the beachfront, but this was like nothing I had ever experienced. It was a ten mile stretch of aggressive aero position, head/cross winds of up to 25mph gusts, and penalty Nazis ready to tag you for ANYTHING. We were fortunate to not get tagged with a penalty...yet. (You know where this is going.)

Still strong in the wind

First loop done, and I still felt really good. We were planning to stop at special needs - mile 56 - for some solid food and refueling. Well, about 5 miles before we hit special needs I started feeling kind of queasy, and the thought of eating another Gu or drinking more Gatorade was just nauseating, so I opted to sip on water until we got there. We hit special needs, chatted with some friends we had met the day before, and I watched Sati eat a cliff bar and down some Gatorade, as I tried to manage my nausea watching people do things you just don't want to hear about. No porta-potties in special needs!

Not quite done with loop two, coming into town, my nausea was worsening and I stopped eating. I sipped on Gatorade and water, but my pace was falling, and Sati pulled up next to me to ask what was going on. I was mad. He decided to back off, and when he did the penalty Nazi pulled up and tagged him. I turned around, told Sati to ride ahead to serve out his four minute penalty, and I would coast in to meet him, thinking it would give me some time to recover. Well, about twenty seconds after he leaves me I get tagged for a penalty. I have no idea why, since I was completely alone, and apparently it does no good to argue with an Ironman official who doesn't speak a lick of English. So, I'm racing through town, trying to catch Sati, so we can serve out our penalty together, and not waste any more time (we actually still had a time goal at this point).  I was averaging about 22mph through the city streets, not even slowing down through the turns, but I still couldn't catch him. By the time I reached the penalty tent I was wiped out, jumped off my bike, and plopped down in the grass. The official in the tent was laughing at all the bitching in the tent, since we were obviously not the only ones there, and it actually gave me a second wind. The nausea was still pretty severe, and I wasn't ready to eat, but it was a well needed break.

No doubt Sati deserved the drafting penalty :)

And so begins lap three. About 5 miles in I start noticing I'm working a lot harder, and I keep glancing at my front tire, thinking it looks a bit flat, but I'm not quite sure. So I keep pushing, periodically checking the tire...until it's completely flat. We stop again, pop the tire off, pretty efficiently getting it changed, when we realize the valve extender we brought wouldn't fit the valve on the spare tire. Without going into too much detail about my tires, we were effed. There was no way to pump up the tire without the extender. There was no way a crew was coming to help us, because they were all busy with a bad crash that had just happened about 50 meters behind us, and problem solving during an Ironman is a feat in itself. The only option we had was to take the valve extender off my back tire to get the front pumped up, which meant I would have to ride on the back tire the remaining 30 miles with the valve open. If we had another flat, there would be no way to fix it without outside assistance. (You know where this is going). After what felt like an eternity we got back on our bikes and fought through the last of the wind tunnels, as my back tire slowly leaked all it's air. I made it to mile 111 of 113 (IM Cozumel is 113 miles instead of 112) until my tire was completely flat. Without too many options at that point, we just slowly coasted in through the city, taking turns about 5mph, until the finish, where I patted my bike like it was an old beat up horse about to be put down, before I passed it off to the bike handler.

The Run:
I should probably call this portion The Walk instead of The Run. Within the first mile, I was ready to throw up. I stopped at about half a mile, and Sati said (in his mind, of course) uh oh, this is not going to be good. I would run until the vomit was coming up, and then I would stop to walk. Sati handed me cup after cup of water, Gatorade, Pepsi, GUs, and pretzels, and while I pretended like I was ingesting them, I would throw them on the ground and spit out whatever made it into my mouth. I knew enough not to tell him what I was doing, or he would force it into me, and I just didn't think I could stomach it. My mind was functioning at a dangerous level, and when he finally figured out what I was doing, I was pretty far gone. He then started forcing fluids into me, and threatened that he wouldn't let me continue if I didn't down every cup he gave me, in front of him. I thought it was a good time to tell him that I hadn't peed in about 5 hours, and hadn't drank in about three. The sun had been blazing for a good portion of the run, until deluge number 2...or maybe it was number 3...I don't know. Anyway, many of the runners were complaining, but I thought the water felt great.

Don't I look giddy?!

Even the puddles/lakes that everyone was trying to avoid didn't bother me. With one lap (about 8.5 miles) to go, and the sun gone, I started feeling kind of giddy. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was still suffering, but in a giddy kind of way. There were actually times in the last lap that the pain from laughing at my husband's jokes and comments stopped me from running more than anything else - I was so thankful to have him by my side. Running down the finisher's chute, giving high fives to complete strangers cheering for me in the rain like I was about to win the Olympics, was a moment to cherish!

Honestly...I don't remember much of it. I was shocked when I saw the pictures, and had to ask Sati if I really did all that in the finisher's chute. I do remember talking to a really great couple after the race, and almost passing out and throwing up all over them. I don't want to talk about the suffering after the race, but it involved lying on some muddy dirty towels with my feet up in the air, and Sati pouring Ramen noodle broth into my mouth as it spilled all over my face and hair. Lovely, I know!

Whaaat?!! Don't remember that!

So there it is. My first Ironman. Not what I thought it would be, but more than I expected, I guess. My body was trained to go much faster than it did, and my mind was not ready for the disappointment that followed after the race. I spent two days moping around Cozumel, disappointed that I "just" finished the Ironman, looking up future races to redeem myself, when I finally had my epiphany.

I've heard it said that people often learn more about themselves through one arduous journey than a lifetime of experiences, and I think I finally get it; but it wasn't at all the lesson I thought I would learn. The lesson learned was that I will never reach my goal, because no matter what I do, that goal will always be pushed further. My personality is such that I will never be happy with the outcome, because if I actually do attain it, then I must be able to give more. Whether I finish the race in 14 hours, or 12 hours, or even 10 hours, I won't be happy because I will always believe I can do better. I think this attitude has served me well in many aspects of my life, but I now see how it has also hindered me. So, my resolution for 2014: I will enjoy whatever successes and struggles come my way, for me and my family, and take the time to appreciate them, revel in them, without the expectation that I must be better. I am an Ironman, and I'm finally starting to be proud of it.

My favorite pic!!