Ironman Cozumel Trilogy - Part 3: The Run

The Run

The blue running skirt is to cute, but it’s raining so it’s going to cling to my legs.  But it’s so cute.  Cling to the legs.  This was a defining moment in my life.  My mom used to get really upset with me as a kid because I would freeze my ass off in the winter so that my outfit wasn’t covered up with big bulky clothes.  I am a grown up now, and I proved it on Nov. 27.  I chose practicality.  My mother would have been proud.   I put the skirt back in the bag and decided the run in my (Niva said I could have them) shorts.

I changed my socks, pulled out my visor just in case the sum peeped out, and hit the por-o-let before taking to the road.  My legs felt great.  As I left the tent, the crowds cheered me (and the others that were starting the run) on.  Casa Mexicana (our hotel) was right close by and I figured that Carol would be there under the awning.  Sure enough, there she was, with a little friend she had made.  

She was smiling and waving as I ran on by … again, slightly posing for some shots with the Rebel. 

The aid stations were set up every kilometer of the run.  At the first station, I quickly surveyed the spread and saw pretzels.  Pretzels.  Mmmm.  I grabbed a big fat one and a glass of coke.  I walked so that the coke wouldn’t splash all over me then flung the cup to the side and nibbled on my pretzel.  It tasted great.  I didn’t plan what I would take from the aid stations in advance, but each one I passed, I knew exactly what my body needed.  There was no question about it.  Water and gel. Coke and water. Water and pretzel.  Coke. Coke and water.  The cycle continued.  The streets were lined with people in rain gear giving us the motivation we needed to push forward.  Each loop of the run was 14km and we would complete three of them.  The first loop was fantastic.  I felt good, my legs were great and my stomach was fine.  On the turn around I got to see both Niva and Karina who were out ahead of me.  Of course, we yelled each time we saw each other.  I had the butterfly cards in the back of my shirt, but it was raining so hard and not only did I not want to get them wet, but I also felt pretty good.  I had heard from my friend Jasmina (who just finished Kona’s World Championship in 10:27) that km 30-40 was going to be tough.   As I looped for the second time, my sister yelled out, “Leah just texted me.  She is going for a run to be with you.” 

Leah is my dear niece who I spent a week in Estes Park, CO for a yoga journal conference in September.  

Athlete's secret:  These are Leah's legs.  You are free to use them and play "paste the top of the body" with them.

Leah joined me for a run on the first and last day of our trip, and suggested, “I am not much of a runner.”  A few weeks later she decided to “try” a half marathon; 1:50.  This is fun.  Leah is running in Idaho, and I am running in Mexico. Leah would love this race.  She would love triathlon.  I wonder when she will do her first.  Maybe one with Carol; that would be cool.  And so the lap continued, Leah and I for 14 more. 

I stopped at an aid station to use the port-o-let, but there was a girl in front of me.  She said, “I have already waited too long to give up now.”  She’s already waited too long to give up. I am not going to “wait too long to give up.” So I stopped waiting and decided that I would only go to port-o-lets with no line, and I wouldn’t wait.  This little rule would make all the difference in my world.

As I looped around for lap 3, I was excited, and nervous.  30km was just around the corner, it was in front of me, and I didn’t know what to expect.

I am not a runner.  Due to my living circumstances, it was difficult for me to ride often; so where my bike training lagged, I made up for in running.  Kind of.  This is where I decide not to exclude something for the fear of sounding cocky.  To train I ran 36km once, 15 km once, and a bunch of 7-15km runs.  I ran about ½ of what the downloaded 13 weeks to a 13 hour Ironman suggested.  I really didn’t know what to expect here. 

The night was approaching and it was getting dark out.  Some people had glow stick necklaces and bracelets.  I kind of wanted one too.  But … I did have endless Coke (I never drink caffeine) and pretzels and spirited people cheering away. 

I almost forgot to tell you.  Eye of the tiger played four times.  Restaurants, hotels, and little bars had music playing.  Each time.  I smiled.  Just in case you missed in in the bike blog.

I smiled a lot.  When I saw people stopping, I yelled, “Keep moving Rocky!”  or “You got this Rocky!”  and I kept moving forward.  OK, I didn't really say "Rocky"  but next time I will.

I think I am at km 35.  Why haven’t I hit that 30-40 something yet?  Well, Jasmina did run a 3:30 marathon, so maybe it only hit’s you if you are giving it your all.  Is this my all?  No.  Do I want to give more? No.  This feels perfect. It was perfect.

I knew that from the turn around there were 7km to the finish line.  I hadn’t been tracking my time at all during the race, so checked my watch, did some math, and thought I think I can crack 13 hours.  I am going to crack 13 hours.  This is great.  I love this.  I assure you, I didn’t take any drugs to cause these euphoric feelings; it was all-natural.

As I made my way back into town the crowds got thicker and the music got louder.  I was approaching the finish line.  I could feel it in my blood.  I knew I wanted to break out the air guitar at the finish line, but I didn’t think at all about my run TO the finish line. 

I have been teased since child hood about something I did during a game of hide-and-seek.  Apparently, (I think the whole thing is a sham and this never really happened but my siblings assure me, it did) I was running to home-free laughing a laugh that all five of my brothers and sisters will happily pull out on demand.  While I was laughing, and enjoying the fact that I was going to get “home” without getting caught, I missed “home-free” completely and ran right by it.  I am sure the story ends with me getting tagged out, crying, and then telling on my brothers and sisters to my mom.  

It happened again (my laugh muted).  With 200 meters left, I started to sprint.  I don’t know why I did it, but I did.  The other finishers were calm and cool, giving high fives to the rows of people lined to congratulate them.  I only know this because I looked at the finishing photos of several people.  I didn’t see anyone.  In fact, had I not seen photo evidence, I would argue that I was alone.  That there weren't even people in bleachers down the finisher shoot.  All I knew, was that I wanted to air –guitar at the finish line, and I wanted it bad.  I didn’t even hear the announcer say, “Diane from Canada, You are an Ironman.”  Seriously, I didn’t hear it.  I crossed the finish line with a HUGE smile on my face, and I strummed a chord.

Athlete's secret: I have NO idea why I wanted to air-guitar.  None whatsoever. 

I jumped up and down, and up and down and was happier than words can describe.  I was truly proud and I was truly grateful.


I don’t wonder where the energy came from anymore.  It came from everyone who supported this race.  Every card, well wish, phone call, encouraging hug, letter, shared status, Leah’s run, but mostly, it came from the belief, the belief from everyone, and from myself, that I COULD. 

November 27, 2011 was the best day of my life.  But it didn’t finish there.  It actually just began.

Had I run a different race, trained harder, trained less, pee'd more, not had gas on the bike, not had difficulty with my compression socks, dragged of a faster swimmer, not stopped to pose for the Rebel, walked through the gigantic puddle 3 times instead of running through like a little kid, had anything been different … by seconds, my life would be unfolding differently than it is now.

I would meet someone at the finish line.  And my life would begin again. 

The Sequel – Coming soon!   (I am kind of busy packing!)

Athlete's Secret:  I will be needing this!