We decided that we would have two travel hats. The sombreros would
be our travel item, and the cowboy hats would be for outings "on the
go." Before leaving the house and asking the all-telling, "what
am I forgetting?" I had just successfully ruined Ricardo's tri-jersey by
ironing a patch to the chest on top of what appeared to be a cotton
bag. It happened to be plastic. Oops.
Carb loading was now our strategy now and we made jokes about what
we would be stuffing into our faces over the next few days. We hummed and
hawed about what to eat at the airport, finally deciding on pizza. It would be
the first of many slices consumed over the next few days.
We checked into our hotel and made our way to race registration.
With a little delay in finding my kit, we walked around the expo and picked up
a few items, a tri-jersey for Ricardo, some goggles and Gu, compression sleeves
and tri-shorts. The day was relaxing and I thought little about the swim.
The following morning I would get to do a practice. For now, it was just
relaxation and some TV; ok, a LOT of tv. I watched 4 hours straight of
American Idol and 2 hours of America's Next Top Model. Along with that,
we watched a video made by my co-workers.
Within, were messages from several of my colleagues along with all of my
students. The most prominent
being, “Ms. D. you have to win your boyfriend.” Grammar lesson on the
horizon.
The practice swim always calms my race nerves. If I know what
the water is like, I can anticipate the swim and get out of my head before the
race horn goes off. So for the next two days, we swam, we biked, and we
lightly ran. After the swim I had an armful of jellyfish stings, but this
par for the course. In Cozumel, it was a body full. So I was
grateful. One sting on the inside of my bicep was in the shape on an anchor, so
despite the itch, I kind of felt like Popeye. Didn’t he have an anchor tattoo?
 |
| In 1976, Dave Orlowski raced the first ever Ironman. He raced in a pair of jean short cut offs and stopped at McDonalds to eat. He finished in 3rd place with a time of 13h59m. |
On Saturday we rode over to check in our bikes and leave our
transition bags. Knowing that my shoe plate was worn down significantly,
I stopped and picked up a new pair along the way. Sure enough, on the way
there, my shoe disconnected from my pedal repeatedly. The plate had worn down so much that it wouldn’t clip into
my pedal anymore. So I sat at my bike, racked at 419 and used my bike tool to
change the plates.
Ironman really starts the moment you sign up. It's not
simply a one-day event. Ricardo and I have joked about making a video called,
“The Real Ironman” where we show you what’s really involved. The farmer blows that smack you on the
cheek, bathroom stops along desolate stretches on highway, toilets that don’t
flush, the tears that fill up goggles, riding 125km on belly full of wine and
champagne from a spontaneous Friday night with a friend, turning the lights out
at 8:30pm. But all of the sweat
and tears are transformative. They can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
feel like Thanksgiving dinner, make the salted rim of a cold beer taste like it
was part of you all along, and make a 3000m swim feel like flight. Training
transforms you.
We checked in, and went back to the hotel. And yes, I
watched more American Idol. I don’t even know if it was a current
episode, but I enjoyed hearing Nicky Minaj’s voice and critiques. We organized our bags, tattooed our numbers and age-group letter on our legs, and kissed goodnight.
 |
| I thought "E" was boring, so I gave Ricardo what looked more like a hieroglyph for the race. |
At 4:00am the alarm rang and we were up. We had a couple of
peanut butter and jam sandwiches and took a few for the long bike ride. We
suited up and locked the door behind us. Off we went to catch the bus.
When you get to the race start there are a few buses. One
bus takes the bike "special needs" bag. This bag is available
to you at km 90 of the bike. You might put in some advil, a tube, some
chocolate bars or whatever else you might "need" at 90k.
Another bus takes the run "special needs" bag and then a final bus
takes the "race morning" bag. Ricardo or I have never retrieved our
special needs bags. This time was no different, other than the fact that we
didn’t even prepare them. We made our way to the bikes and loaded up the
nutrition we would be taking on the bike. I had forgotten to put my sun
glasses in my swim-to-bike bag, so I went off and loaded these in along wit a
bottle of water that I could wash my feet with after running up the
beach.
 |
| Me, forgetting that the glasses on my face needed to go in this bag the day before the race. |
Back at the bikes Ricardo asked a guy in the next row to borrow
his pump. Having pumped up my tires just the day before, I hummed and
hawed about filling mine. Not wanting to be lazy, I took the pump and
unscrewed my air valve. With the front tire full, I moved to the back,
unscrewed the valve and clamped on the pump.
As I started inflating, I heard some air escaping. This is normal if the pump isn’t
securely fastened. But then:
Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
There's no after psssss. Just one foul deflation. All the
air. Gone.
"What was that?" Asked Ricardo, as I held up the entire
valve of the tube. I calmly walked my tire to the mechanics, and pleaded,
"Quien es lo mejor para cambiar mi camara?" Who is the best to change
my tube (or camera … I am not sure if camera is Spanish or Portuguese for tube)?
A kind man took my wheel and went to town. Telling me that he could screw
the valve back on and I could use the same tube. Sounded good to me and in a flash, he was done. I took my bike back and racked it. We headed off to drop our “race morning
bags” and of course, I forgot to put my flip-flops in them. Off I went to add them to my
swim-to-bike bag.
We walked down to the swim warm up and gently nestled into our
suits. I zipped up and adjusted my
cap, and then tucked Ricardo into his suit and zipped him in. He will most likely never ask me to do
this again. At the water’s edge, we looked at each other and I am not sure
which one of us asked, “Do you really feel like doing a warm up?” The response
was “no.” And we made our way to the race start joking that that was the
fastest warm-up ever.
The Ironman announcer bellowed, “un minuto … “ One minute to race
time. We hugged, we kissed and we
wished each other a great race. The horn roared out.
Ricardo and I have spent the good part of the last four months
exchanging the following jokes.
Me: What do you want me to say?
Ricarco: What?
Me: What do you want me to say when I pass you on the bike? Do you want me to yell something?
Ricardo: So I will go back and shower, and then meet you at the
finish line.
Me: Oh good, cause I will already be there and showered after
waiting for you to cross.
Ricardo: Are you gong to be ok?
Me: What?
Ricardo: Will you be ok? When I beat you again?
And then there was this.
His screan saver since February.
He would point to the black hamster and say, “Ricardo”, then switch to
the white/brown more aero hamster with gloves, and behind, and say, “Diane.” Only he would repeat this 5+ times. Giggling each time.
Off we went, all aiming for a yellow triangular buoy in the
distance. I caught the second swell.
As I reached it, as with all of the buoys, I was tucked tightly
inside, the closest of all swimmers to the buoy, which meant only one thing at
the time.
Claws, feet in the
chest, arms that seemed detached from peoples bodies, and small space that
probably looked more like fish flopping out of the water, than athletes
rounding a buoy. I quickly found a
swimmer who didn’t kick and who’s pace was similar to mine. And then I drafted. Careful not to bat his toes, but
observing his feet with every exhale.
I stayed behind him until about 3000m when I had decided to execute my
race plan. Ricardo had drawn up a plan on a napkin at breakfast the day before. This was my strategy, hit race pace at
3000m, and I stuck to it.
Pretending the water was my sandbox I clawed my arms through it making
my way from buoy to buoy, feeling like a torpedo, I exited at 1:24 and
change. Respectable.
I ran my way into transition, picked up my blue bag and changed
into my bike gear, and set off to unrack my bike.
To my complete surprise, Ricardo’s bike was still on the rack.
Ricardo is a MUCH faster swimmer than I am. What
happened? As I went through
the possibilities, none compelled me to figure it out. I unracked and made my way to the
mounting line. The race had
changed. I was expecting to chase
him on the bike, hunting. Now I
was the hunted.
I mounted and I rode.
Swim time: 1:24:28
T1: 8:41 (what???)
Swim time: 1:24:28
T1: 8:41 (what???)
