season next week in Pasadena!

muscovy duck. That may be true, but I'm still faster than him.

that NIN's Closer to God is 90bpm, too bad I can't use it in my spin class for 90rpm work!

came to visit my main sponsor & employer, Cobalt Biofuels!

speed recovery from my long runs.

the east coast so that I can get up at 5am to swim a 10K. This is how you start the New Year out right!

I am getting in the last of my off season between Christmas and New Year's & now have plenty of extra fuel to burn during my base period. I'm trying to get motivated to up my hours & start that long road to getting back into race shape, so I figured what better way than to recap Kona? Just a warning - it's gonna be a long one!

I had forgotten to mention in my CDA report that a complete stranger paid me $20 for a relatively small piece of kinesiotape the day before the race. No, he had never used it before, but after I explained how it had helped me qualify in Arizona, he was handing over cash (that I was trying to refuse). Mike and I mused how if someone could get the Ironman logo on that stuff, it would be a cash cow. When I got back to town I realized that Rock Tape had already beat me to it (not that I would've followed through). Mike then had the brilliant idea to get my hands on some white kinesiotape so that the kids could draw on it & I could carry them on me through the race in Kona. As fate would have it, Greg at Rock Tape had just put in an order for white tape. I was in! Another quirk of fate landed me a sponsorship from my CEO at Cobalt Biofuels. I just happened to end up being his partner for an exercise during a team building day, and the leader of the ropes course was an Ironman himself. This was the week after IMCDA and I was wearing my finishers shirt. Long story short, I ended up getting my plane ticket paid to Kona along with a new speedsuit & race outfit. Thank you, Cobalt! I borrowed some lab pens from work and the kids used these on the plane ride to Kona to draw up some most excellent art work on my tape. The lab pens are alcohol and water proof & so their artwork was preserved during the entire race & gave me many boosts of energy when I needed it most. Most importantly, I had no muscle cramps.

As usual, I was covered in tape. It works, so I don't care what other people think – I have no problem being seen in public with this stuff on, much to Mike's dismay. This is exactly how he feels about compression socks, so we're even.

It was great being in Kona. I've never been here for the race before, so it was a bit surreal seeing all the landmarks in person that I've seen on the NBC coverage over the years. We stayed at the end of Alii Drive, about a mile past the run turn around. I did all my workouts in the area leading up to Saturday. The swim was the most enjoyable. It felt more like I was snorkeling than dialing in for a race. I taught marine biology for 3 years, and had salt water tanks in my classroom. I loved those tanks – one day I'll have one in the house! Anyways, I spent most of my time identifying the fish on the reef than paying attention to how the buoys were laid out (mistake!). On Friday, I went to turn in my bike and transition bags and was surprised to see the line up of people with clipboards sitting along the entrance to the transition area. They, of course, were checking out everyone's bike equipment. So that's how they tally all the bikes, and wheels! I reluctantly left my bike. In Kona, you leave your helmet on the bike (you can't do this at other IM races). I was worried that it would roll off my aerobars since I have a profile drink on there. The volunteer suggested that I put my straw through a vent in the helmet – an excellent idea. My helmet was right where I left it come race day.

On race morning, Mike & a couple of very groggy kids dropped me off near the host hotel to go get body marked. After that I went to put an additional inhaler in my run bag (just in case) and then pumped up my tires. I then found Mike & the kids over by the extra cool Banyan Tree & had him help me with my speedsuit. Took a quick picture & gave everyone a kiss before heading off to drop off my morning bag & head to the water.

As I was heading towards the water I saw the navy seals parachute in – very cool. Once I walked down the steps to the water the national anthem started up. The crowds were thick all along the water's edge. It was really amazing to be there realizing a dream! I walked part way out, watched the pros start & then decided to swim out to the start. Wow. The whole day I was thinking in terms of Facebook updates because I knew Mike was logged on to my page updating everything for me during the day. Jeanette Mucha is at the start line of the world championship! I had a smile on my face a mile wide & was too excited. Another female competitor asked me “what's your heart rate?” I looked and saw that it was 98 (my resting pulse is 45) – she replied that hers was 99. Guess we were nervous, but more excited than anything else. During the NBC coverage, Faris Al-Sultan mentions that the moments before the race start are worse than the rest of the entire race – I do not agree. I was soaking in the atmosphere, trying to live it in slow motion, listening to Mike Reilly on the microphone. Reilly mentioned that as soon as everyone is behind the start line they'll fire the cannon. Up until this point volunteers on surfboards are paddling back and forth horizontally to keep everyone behind the line. As soon as the cannon fires they turn vertical & you are hosed if they happen to park in front of you. The toughest part of the start was getting around all the boards. The cannon fired without a countdown and you could hear the field say “Oh!” almost in unison. Let the battle begin! And a battle it was. Pushing, kicking, bumping, slapping. It was impossible to find open water. Someone was repeatedly grabbing my leg and pushing me down – I decided to kick the sh*t out of them if they did it again. Bad idea. Now my toe hurt. In hindsight, the start line makes a right triangle with the buoys (the buoys are the hypotenuse). I should have started on the far left and swam straight to the turn around buoy, but because I had been paying more attention to the fish earlier in the week (now I couldn't see them at all – the water was so turbulent) I started in the middle of the field. Everyone that had started next to the pier had to merge and get over to the left to get around the buoys. Everyone that had started on the left was swimming right to get closer to the buoys. There was so much traffic at the first couple of buoys that I was literally stopped in the water waiting for people to move. Even though this is the smallest ironman field I've ever started in (1600 v. 2400) it was by far the most crowded in my time zone. For a while I had the pleasure of drafting behind a guy with one leg. I figured I'd stay there as long as possible – it was inspiring & at the same time I had a 50% less chance of getting kicked in the face! It seemed to take forever to get to the turn buoy. In fact, the water was so clear that I accidently saw my watch & it read 36:30. Crap! I wanted to go under 1:10 and really would have preferred to go under 1:06. Oh well, all I could do was concentrate on good sighting & minimize the damage. The way back in felt faster even though I was swimming against the current. Note to self: the Gatorade bottle inflatable looks a lot closer than it actually is. I knew when the reef started getting shallower that I was near the end. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I made it in under 1:10 despite my slow time at the half way point!

4. mile swim 1:09:48, 15/71 age group

The run to my bag and change tent was very short & I had a great volunteer that helped me zip out of my speed suit (I didn't wear my race shirt under it – too much drag) and get into my bike/run shirt. Race belt on, sunglasses & go. The ground was pretty slippery – I passed someone running in cleats & was glad that I was running barefoot. Once I got to my bike, I put on my helmet and rolled out. I was a little nervous about leaving my shoes on the bike, but that was no problem at all.

T1 3:40

Climbing up Palani I noticed that my watch crapped out after hitting the timing mat. It restarted the chrono timer to 0:00. Oh well, I hit start again & figured a couple minutes had passed. I was in my small ring, but was still managing to keep my heart rate too high. I tried to settle in to a sustainable rate. On Khuakini I got a special treat of seeing Mike & the kids! I was happy to know that I'd see them again after I turned around in a few miles. On the way back Mike was the only one who saw me – both kids were concentrating hard on their DS games. I shouted their names to no avail! At this point I was still overjoyed that I was there in Kona racing. I wanted to pull up to someone and say “hey, we're racing in the world championship – this kicks ass” but I never did – everyone else seemed wayyy too serious. Once I got on to the Queen K the facebook updates were coming often into my head. Jeanette is riding on the Queen K. Jeanette is in the lava fields and loving every minute! Jeanette saw her first butterfly around mile 30 of the bike. Yay! There aren't a whole lot of butterflies out on the Queen K. I saw most of them on the climb up to Hawi. This is where I started to get tired. Jeanette is climbing up to Hawi & distracting herself by watching the pros. There was a headwind climbing up to Hawi and I could tell by how amazingly fast the pros were going by that there was a tailwind waiting for me at the turn around. So, I just kept telling myself that relief was close by. I saw Lieto scream by followed a couple minutes later by Al Sultan, McCormack, and couldn't tell who else – they were going way too fast. Not too much later after the first couple of packs of male pros, Chrissie Wellington was all by herself smiling with no competitors even close. Farther back, I saw Natascha Badmann on her Cheetah. She didn't look good. After most of the pros were out of sight, it was back to climbing. The butterflies kept me smiling. Once I made the turn around, I was flying! I was enjoying a speed of around 30mph for about 7 miles and then Madame Pele mettled. Usually the wind does a 180 at around 1-2pm, but this year it decided to do the switcheroo at around 11:30. Crap. I was feeling really bad for everyone that was 10-15 minutes behind me, they got a headwind both ways all day. At least I got that glorious 7 miles of tailwind. I knew the wind would be steady the rest of the way back. Once we were back along the coast the wind was blowing as a side/head wind the rest of the way back to Kona. Wow, it was hot. Jeanette understands why Chrissie Wellington doesn't wear an aero helmet. I wanted to take it off. I tried to shoot water in there from the side, but it wasn't working. I had to fight the desire to stand up into the wind just to try and cool off. Later, I found out it was 90 degrees in the shade, so who knows how hot it was out in the lava fields with the sun beating down. I usually prefer races to be hot – my body temperature is lower so it's usually an advantage for me. I was still overheating. I tried to grab a water at the start of the aid stations to dump on myself, then a gatorade to drink, and finally another water to carry for dumping. I always have trouble with hot foot in warm weather. Today was no exception – I must have dumped 10 gallons of water on my feet by the end of the bike trying to beat back my hot foot. Jeanette's has hot foot and wants the bike to be over! Jeanette's psoas is tight – that'll be fun when I get off the bike. More butterflies by the airport. Needed those. Then I reminded myself – hey, you're riding on the Queen K in the World Championships! You are so cool, why are you complaining?? Back to smiling on focusing on the positive. Ugh. Left pec/deltoid killing me in the aero position – no, no, no, be positive! You don't need your shoulder to run. I tried to read the coral rock messages in the lava fields, but I couldn't focus on them – it all looked blurry to me. Alright, hang in there. Oh good – pros to watch again. Jeanette is watching Chris Lieto approach the energy lab – hey, it looks like he is still in the lead, what do you know. Looks like Alexander and (who is that other guy?) is closing in fast. Jeanette has made it back to civilization!! Once you ride up to the crowds – it's great! Big smiles again, and downhill into the transition.

112 mile bike 6:11:47 41/71 age group

I left my shoes on the bike & ran bare foot through transition. It's a pretty long run around all the bike racks to the change tents. I couldn't even imagine running it in cleats – Ow. I made a quick pit stop and put on my running shoes, visor, changed out my salt tabs, took a hit on my inhaler & was off.

T2 4:05

As soon as I hit the timing mat my HR monitor/watch died. The screen went blank. Great. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I was running a lot slower than I expected to, and my minute per mile data would only have been a negative. As it was, my legs felt heavy. Totally beat. My run training had been the best it had been in years, but I hadn't gotten in enough biking mileage. It's hard to get on the trainer at night after working all day and having gotten up at 5:00am to swim and/or run. It's tough to get your kids in bed on time (8pm) when you haven't seen them all day. Too many times they didn't get in bed until 9pm or after, and then I was just too darn tired to get on the bike. There was no cramping (thanks to the tape), but there was also no get up and go. The first aid station is 1.5miles away from T2 which seems like an eternity when you're overheated. I had to stop and walk through it. Trying to cool off and get hydrated. I carried ice in my hands and stuffed it down my shirt. That helped, but I still didn't feel human. Suddenly, I wasn't having fun. But I was supposed to be having fun – that was my only real goal that mattered on the day! I decided to walk the aid stations – that would give me something to look forward to! The only danger here was that I knew the “walk, just walk” demons would get louder. Once you start walking, it's easier to just keep on walking. I decided to focus on the fact that Mike and the kids would be waiting for me at the mile 5 turn around. C'mon now – Jeanette is running on Alii Drive in the World Championships! I saw a butterfly at mile 4 and finally felt like I was cooling down – it was misting now, a little bit of rain. I kept looking for hummingbirds (they've been running with me at home over the past year), but sadly didn't see any. After the race I did some searching on the internet only to find that there are no hummingbirds in Hawaii! Well, that certainly explains why I didn't see any during the race :) Down the road a bit now I can see Mike & the kids! I pick up the pace and give them all big sweaty hugs and kisses. I hand Mike my HRM strap & watch (useless weight) and go through the turn around chute. And I'm back for more sweaty hugs and kisses! It was so, so good to see them! Thank you, Mike, for towing the kids around all day – I'm sure they complained incessantly. Our kids think Ironman is just something boring that all parents do. It's completely ordinary to them. What's the big deal? My parents do these all the time, don't yours? Oh, boo. Family is gone – now I'm feeling the pain again & stuck with just myself. I decided to walk the aid stations again. Soak in the scenery, focus on the gorgeous ocean. Watch your form – keep cooling off. I was staying mostly positive & smiling at the crowd until the run up Palani. This is the only time I thought, “do you really want to come back here again?” to which I told myself “don't answer this now – umm, wait until tomorrow”. Somehow I got up to the Queen K and started to feel overheated again. The rain was gone, the hot foot was back, and every voice in my head was screaming “walk!” - oh come on, just for a little while. No! I was only going to walk the aid stations, it was the World Championships, dammit, no more walking. I was watching the pro women and the struggling pro men finish up the last part of their race (they were headed in, I was headed out). I, unfortunately, watched one guy lose all his cookies & then heard him finish that up for at least a mile longer into the distance. Now see, someone feels worse than you do. Sack up, Jeanette, keep running & do it with a smile on your face. You WILL have fun! Jeanette is running toward the Energy Lab. Where is that @$#% Energy Lab? Is it over this hill? No. The next? No. It has to be at the next light! Someone must have changed the course, it couldn't possibly be farther! Good thing the sun was on it's way down. The Energy Lab isn't nearly as evil when the sun is setting! Jeanette is running in the Natural Energy Lab in the World Championships! There are extra aid stations in there, which I really appreciated. It was getting harder and harder to start back up jogging after each subsequent aid station. There's the mile 19 marker. One more mile & there's just a 10K to go. I can do a 10K in my sleep! Jeanette is back on the Queen K & just hit the mile 20 marker. Woohoo! Okay, let's see how fast I can get to that finish line. Hmmm, not very. It's still a big struggle. I pick up a glow stick at the next aid station. I am amazed at how dark it is out there. There are street lamps, but they aren't on. This briefly pisses me off, and then I just concentrate on my breathing and my form. There's not a lot of snap left in my legs (honestly, there never was out there on the run). Nobody that I'm passing or that's passing me is in any kind of mood to talk. Why don't I ever remember how hard an Ironman marathon is? I always have visions of doing these fast times and then reality hits my legs and I just end up surviving. Jeanette is running up the last hill on the Queen K – just a couple miles to go! There was more light here & the crowds were thickening up. The emotions came on heavy as I turned on to Palani. What a glorious corner! It's all downhill from here & lined with people cheering. I had a big smile on and hit the last aid station running. The demons were gone now simply because I knew I was going to finish – and soon. I was so looking forward to running down the finisher's chute. It seemed quite a long way to Alii Drive (probably because I was pushing myself), but once I made the corner I turned on the slow motion again. Jeanette is headed down Alii to the finish! I wanted to soak it in! I high-fived every possible kid along the way & tried to convince myself that this was actually happening. I was getting choked up in between smiles. There wasn't anyone right in front of me, so I was able to hear my name – Jeanette Mucha from San Carlos, California you are an Ironman! I put my hands up on my head in partial disbelief. I had gotten to the finish line in Kona. Now I just had to figure out how to get back :)

26.2 mile run: 4:35:28 51/71 age group

TOTAL TIME: 12:04:48

Unfortunately, I didn't see Mike nor the kids at the finish line. I figured they were working their way back to the family area. I got my finisher's medal and then walked over to the massage tent. My hands had been vibrating the last 10 miles or so of the race, and after I stopped racing it became more pronounced. Now my feet and lips joined in & I didn't feel quite right. I wanted to lie down. My chest wasn't sore, but I obviously wasn't getting enough oxygen. I didn't want to go to the med tent, I wanted to see my family. My name got called for a massage, but they wouldn't let me stay. Guess I wasn't looking so good either & the guy in charge there asked the volunteer to take me to the med tent. I told him no way I was walking all the way back there. No problem, he said, we'll wheel you there. So, instead of a massage I got a wheel chair ride. Of course, this is when I finally see Mike and the kids – while I'm getting wheeled to the med tent. Perfect timing. I didn't quite know what to say except that I just didn't feel right & wasn't sure why half my body was vibrating. I was in the med tent for a long time, the conclusion was that I was hyperventilating & had really low blood pressure. As to why, no one could give me an answer. I had only lost a pound from weigh in to the end of the race, so I was hydrated. They put my feet up and made me drink more gatorade and also had me munch on some chips. I was ordered to breathe nice and slow and to take the biggest breaths possible. Eventually I felt well enough to sit up & after I successfully used the loo in there they signed me out. I found Mike and the kids & went to get some food. Only, there wasn't any. I've done over a hundred races, and Kona has by far, the worst food tent of any triathlon I've ever done. All they had were some ice cream cups. They were out of pizza and kept saying (for hours) that more was coming (those poor volunteers working the food tent – no one has been more abused!). Max and Daria fell asleep on some mats in the family area & I went over to get a second chance at a massage. Success! We let the kids nap longer so we could stay to watch the final finishers. Everyone was napping but me. My metabolism is always haywire post-ironman. I think I flip on some sort of migratory survival gene that could keep me going for days without sleep.

Staying to watch the last finishers was amazing – if you travel to Kona for the race you absolutely can't miss this! Although the kids had had it and thought it was way too loud, Mike and I were loving it! There was a total party at the finish line. I was happy to see Harriet Anderson finish in time & she walked it in with what looked like a sling. Later I found out that she got clipped at mile 80 of the bike & broke her collarbone. She is one tough 74-yr-old! Despite her bad luck she was the only woman in her age group to finish – so she has her Kona slot for next year when she'll be aging up! A couple weeks later she was back in my Friday morning spin class, arm still in a sling. I hope that I am still doing Ironmans when I am her age – she is such an inspiration to everyone who meets her!

Now I am going about thinking about my limiters and trying to figure out how to get back to Kona next year on my tight schedule. It can definitely be done! I am signed up for Louisville, so I won't know until 6wks before Kona if I'll be going or not. Mike and I are also doing Arizona, so I will be stepping it up. I'll definitely be doing 2 ironmans in 12 weeks, and hopefully I can make that three!

So, I just finished watching NBC's coverage of the 2009 Kona race & it inspired me to find my CDA notes and update my blog! Better late than never.

The beginning of 2009 brought a big life change for me, as I started working full time at a start up in April. My previous five ironmans were all trained for while I was a full time stay at home mom. Challenging, yes, but since my husband also races it was totally doable (there was no need to explain why I have to go for a 6hr bike ride - we would hire a sitter & go together). My volume would peak at around 28hrs, easy weeks were 18hrs. In the months leading up to CDA my peak volume fell to 16hrs with my easy weeks at 10hrs. I had a very difficult time making the transition & during the period where I usually lose weight, I was gaining it. Plus, I had already qualified for Kona (IMCDA was my back up qualifier) so motivation was pretty low. I honestly would've pulled out of the race in February if a couple of friends weren't signed up to do the race with us. I knew that I would have to prove myself at work before I could get away with taking run or swim breaks during the work day. The CEO didn't want to hire me specifically because I train and race for Ironmans, so there was no wiggle room there at all (not to mention there's no shower at work!).

As a result, I went into this Ironman with really low expectations & hoped that quality over quantity would be enough to get me over the finish line in a respectable time. There's nothing quite like being on the start line of an Ironman when you're not prepared. Previously, I could stand on the start line with raw confidence knowing that I had done everything possible to prepare. This time, I was scared. Wouldn't you know, just 30 minutes before the gun is supposed to go off, the forearm of my wetsuit rips wide open. There was a good 6 inch gaping hole. As luck would have it, Keish Doi was standing nearby (he is crazier than I, regulary doing at least 6 ironmans per year) and he had some kind of adhesive tape in his morning bag. I should've wrapped my whole forearm in it, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get out of my wetsuit post swim. So, I settled on just taping the seams so the wrist wouldn't split open, and the rip wouldn't continue up over my bicep. CDA is a beach start which is fine when the start line just contains estrogen, but testosterone is a whole nother story. I'm surprised I wasn't trampled to death (or at least that no one was) and as usual had to contend with crazed racers that have completely forgotten that they are doing an ironman & have taken off like it's a sprintman. The water at CDA sucks. It's clearer than Tempe, but that's not saying much. It was cold (like Tempe) and extremely choppy. I was bottle necked the entire swim. Everyone was swimming different directions and I rarely was able to spot a buoy when lifting my head up to see where I was going. There are multiple inconsiderate idiots racing their speed boats at the top of the swim loop making sizeable waves, at one point I started to get sea sick. All the while, my left arm weighs at least 10 pounds more than my right (from my wetsuit hole filling up with each stroke) which I'm sure did some nasty things to my form. At the beach run turn around (the swim is two loops with a run on the beach inbetween) I unfortunately looked at my watch - :35. Not good. In my 5 previous Ironmans my total swim time had always been between 1:02 and 1:03. Ugh. The last thing I wanted to do was dive back in for another loop. The second loop wasn't much better than the first. Usually the swim is enjoyable for me, but not today.

2.4 miles Swim Time: 1:10:45, 11/126 age group

It was cloudy and cold - the high for the day was only 55 degrees. For those of you that know me - this is not good for me. I get could very easily and have a very difficult time warming my muscles up in the cold. They just don't want to go. In transition I decided to wear arm warmers, gloves, and wool socks. It was a good move. I never really felt cold on the bike, but I certainly wasn't warm either. Do note, don't hesitate to put arm warmers in your transition bag at an Ironman. Trying to put them on yourself over wet skin is near impossible, but they're pretty darn easy to put on when you've got your own personal volunteer helping you (especially if that person knows what they are & how to put them on). They were on in a flash & I clip clopped my way to the bike.

Transition 1: 5:31

The first part of the CDA loop is flat, and the wind is at your back (although it really wasn't windy at all). I enjoyed riding out to the hills & got to see the lead male pro heading back into town led by the police & they were towing a huge digital clock with the acruing race time right in front of him. That gave me a little adrenaline boost that lasted until the hilly section. Stuart, Mike, and I had driven the race course a couple of days prior, but I was soooo tired that I couldn't stay awake during the car ride. I am notorious for falling asleep in the car. I only remembered short flashes of terrain & was unpleasantly surprised to find around 30 hills on the loop - short hills, but steep ones. Ones that made me glad that I had the 27 cassette on my rear wheel. On the first pass in the hills I had the pleasure of watching a fellow age grouper get cited a red card for drafting - go officials! Other than that one big train of cheaters, I didn't see much drafting on the course. I was pretty drained after the first round of hills and briefly contemplated taking a wrong turn & heading back to the house we were renting. It was never really a serious thought - only because I didn't have the keys on me. Fortunately, the second loop felt easier than the first. I finally warmed up a bit & now I knew what to expect in the hilly section. I finally got to see my first (and only) butterfly at mile 90 of the bike. Butterflies are my cheerleaders & they usually appear when I need them most. However, I the better my race finish time, the more butterflies I see. Shortly after this siting, I saw Mike heading out to the last of the hills (I was coming in). He was having a rougher day than I - it didn't look like he'd be passing me today. He was in the zone & didn't hear me screaming (this sort of cluelessness is generally my role & took me by surprise). Over the last 10 miles of the bike it began to drizzle & so I was focused on finishing the bike before it started to rain more. The final stretch is pretty easy and beat the heck out of my usual long ride training course (which ends with a four mile 800 foot climb).

112 miles Bike Time: 6:13:05, 19/126 age group

I left my shoes on the bike & ran in my socks which got nice and wet by the time I reached the change tent. I made a quick stop in the loo, decided to keep my arm warmers and gloves on, and took off.

Transition 2: 3:29

Ah, the run in the cold and rain. It makes me shiver just remembering it. Due to my lack of training, my legs were fried at the start of the run. They warmed up after the first mile (I could feel my feet again!) and then I started to have other problems that I could do absolutely nothing about. A month prior, I had held off my period by taking the pill and had an amazing century ride where I kicked Mike's ass. This was an experiment, so it worked so well for the century, why not do it again for the Ironman? Running in an Ironman has different affects on the body than just biking a century (as one might expect) and things didn't turn out so well for me. Let the cramping begin, shades of Wisconsin '07. One porto stop confirmed the problem & I wisely knew I was doomed. I was reduced to a slow jog and on many occasions was forced to a walk due to uterine cramping. The only thing that got me jogging again was the fact that it was frickin' cold. If I had kept walking there would have been a real good chance that I would've ended up with hypothermia. This is the only race I've ever wanted chicken broth, and wouldn't you know, it was cold. They couldn't keep it warm enough. Cold chicken broth is not good. I began craving the sports beans I had put in my special needs bags. I've never used my special needs bags in the past, but I really wanted those beans! Cruelly, you have to run by special needs at mile 13 and you can't get your goods until around mile 15. I stopped and walked and ate my sports beans - they were the nectar of the gods. It was the happiest I had been all day. On my way back out to the lake I saw Mike & he looked really chipper & in good spirits (this time he saw me). When I reached the lake, there was a boat full of drunk people blasting the Rocky theme & shouting incessantly. I managed a thumb's up towards their general direction & got rewarded with more shouting :) As I was nearing the final run turn around, I saw Stewart walking - he was a couple of miles in front of me. I could try and catch him. It seemed like EVERYONE else in the race was running. And fast. I am used to doing really hot races where people blow up on the run, there's carnage everywhere, and if you happen to be walking you've got lots of company. Not the case on this day. I was able to catch up with Stewart as he was NOT a happy camper. An old injury that he thought was all better was acting up . He couldn't run at all. I walked with him for awhile, and was glad to have the company. Then I started to get really cold & had to part ways. The rest of the "run" was pretty darn miserable. Again, the only reason my head demons didn't win the walking war was because of the cold. More than once during the race I muttered that I was "never coming back here again". Everyone says how beautiful the run course is, but I couldn't care less. It seemed liked the roads winded endlessly back to the finish line. WIth a few miles to go there was a yard full of drunk people screaming out everyone's name & occupation (I guess someone printed out the race roster). They were making up stupid rhymes with peoples names and I found myself wanting to join them & ditch the race. They were having a LOT more fun than I was. Alas, I wasn't seriously considering quitting, after all I only had two miles to go. The last mile is always a blast. No matter how shattered you've been mentally and physically during the previous miles of the race, there is an unmatched adrenaline boost when you hit mile marker 25. It's always my fastest mile. I was really impressed with the amount of people lining the streets - it was raining after all. There was a ton of support all the way to the line which I crossed with with relief.

26.2 mi Run TIme: 5:05:06, 71/126 age group

TOTAL TIME: 12:37:54, 30/126 age group

This is the only ironman I haven't landed in the med tent for (or should've landed in the med tent). I'm sure because I wasn't able to push my limits with the cramps and the rain also helped pull allergens out of the air. I missed Stewart's finish & it took a couple of hours to find him. Mike was walking most of the marathon, so it was a long wait in the cold and rain to see him finish. He's decided that this is the last Ironman he'll be doing out of shape. The end result was that I have a ton of work to do before Hawaii. Somehow, I need to be more consistent with my training. Plus, I'll make sure my other issue wouldn't be an issue again. Why is it that in all the training books I have & in all the magazine articles I've read no one ever mentions a woman's cycle related to performance (Oh right, most of them are written by men & no one cares about women's sports). It is such a huge performance issue for me, and I've got to think it is for other women as well. I've read one article in Triathlete and the conclusion was that good performances have been turned in any time during a woman's cycle and it doesn't matter. This is so wrong. How much better could those performances have been if the timing had been ideal? We've got to contend with blood loss, cramping, hormonal changes, body temperature changes, etc. Someone needs to get on this, I'm tired of experimenting with myself! If you are a man (and you haven't stopped reading this) consider yourself lucky.

I'm very excited about Hawaii, and in retrospect, I might give CDA another chance in the future :)

Until October,

Jeanette

IMAZ November 23, 2008

We arrived in Tempe Thursday afternoon, only this time our faithful chauffer & home stay profferer was also getting ready to race. Graeme picked us up from the airport & we proceeded to register and get our bikes from Tribike transport. No one wanted to be seen with me and my many strips of kinesiotape (thank you, Dr. Steve, you really are the best). Mike twice asked me to change into pants before going to eat. I didn't listen - he counted funny looks & I didn't care. That tape works, so I don't care what it looks like. As Mike pointed out, if triathletes start qualifying while wearing the tape, everyone's going to be wearing the tape no matter how ridiculous it looks hanging out the back of your shorts. Just look at compression socks - there certainly was no shortage of triathletes wearing those & they're not exactly fashion statements.

I was a bit more nervous than usual on Saturday, probably because I've had 2 crappy runs in my last two IMs, and really didn't want to add a third. However, come race morning, my fears had morphed into the realization that it really couldn't get any worse than my race in April (okay - this is debatable). So, I was looking forward to having a good day. In the amateur video one older age grouper described IM race morning perfectly: "It's just like Christmas morning. The package is wrapped and under the tree & now it's time to find out what's in the box." Ironman racing is so much different from 70.3s and less. In shorter races your fitness carries you through, but in Ironman you'll more likely have some sort of issue: mechnical, nutritional, muscular, intestinal - you name it, it can happen in Ironman. Just because you had everything figured out for the last Ironman really counts for very little in the next one. Every race is different & every race holds a surprise in store that is completely unpredictable, even in hindsight! So your nutrition worked perfectly in training? Doesn't mean it will when you're racing.

Got to the transition area early Sunday morning & had plenty of time to get everything set. Got in the water at about 6:45, and was up to the front just after the pros went off (they start at 6:50). This time Mike and I decided to start right of the center buoy, as we would attempt to cut the tangent on the swim (the river bends right). It was one of the least violent Ironman starts that I've had, and I ended up with clear water ahead (well, this IS the swill-hole of Tempe Towne Lake - "clear" does not describe the water itself). The good news was, I wasn't really getting hit or swum over, the bad news was I had no draft. I just concentrated on swimming to the second column of the rural st bridge and tried to get comfy. I found myself being extremely worried about swallowing any water & was constantly panicking about it as I have a bad habit from pool swimming of keeping my mouth open. I did not need a repeat of April's knifing stomach pains. l swallowed a couple teensy amounts of water along the way and hoped it wouldn't matter. With about 20 minutes to go I started to get really cold. Mike Reilly announced at the race start that the water temp was 64 , but it felt a lot colder, closer to 60. I should've had a hot head on, but when I was packing I never dreamed that the water would be so friggin' cold. I was able to catch a draft behind some guy & it was warmer behind him than in the open water. I briefly wondered WHY it was warmer behind him, but quickly pushed that thought from my mind - it didn't matter, I was starting to shiver now. I tried to get my kick going to get some blood to my feet, but my legs were not interested in kicking at all. The last bit of the swim felt like an eternity. Were the stairs really that far away from the last turn buoy? Somehow my feet worked up the stairs and I saw my time - 1:03, I was hoping to be quicker, but instead was consistent. In all 5 ironmans my swim times have been either a 1:02 or 1:03.

2.4 mile swim : 1:03:07

My transition started out a bit slow. I was frozen, so the wetsuit strippers had to do all the work for me. Took a bit longer than usual, but then I was on my way to get my bag. Big smile as I was actually running (as opposed to the hobble I was doing in April). Glad I put red electrical tape on the handles of my bags - I didn't even have to check numbers, just looked for the handles. Ran into the tent & everything else went as usual: shoes, belt, helmet, glasses, inhaler in pocket. I also had gone to Walgreens the morning before and had gotten a $3 pair of little boys stretch gloves to wear on the bike. They were perfect - even had little eagles on them to remind me to soar in the wind. I've discovered that gloves work better to keep me warm than arm warmers & there's the added bonus that they're a million times easier to put on over semi-wet skin. I had tried putting on arm warmers at an early season sprint race (Treeathlon), and promised myself that I would NEVER do that again - what a bumblef*ck. So, I put on my gloves, ran out of the tent, stopped to get some more sunscreen, and then ran to my bike, which I luckily remembered where I had racked it. Ran out with my trusty steed and was on my way. I smiled at the butterfly sticker that Daria put on my handlebars.

T1 (swim to bike transition) 5:25

The first loop on the bike in Arizona has always been fun, and today was no different. There was a mild headwind on the way out on the Beeline & so I looked forward to the tailwind on the way back in. My heart rate was right where I wanted it and amazingly I was absorbing my nutrition and fluids - woo hoo! In the two previous ironmans I launched my nutrition early in the bike leg out of the back water bottle holder. This time I was using an aero bottle on the downtube so that I wouldn't lose it. It worked fabulously. I passed the faster swimmers early in first loop & got passed by the eventual winner early on the second loop. I had no idea that I was in second place, I figured there were still a good 4 women in front of me. I thought the run would be my strongest point & I'd do most of my passing there so it was a surprise post-race to see how much my biking has improved. I didn't see my first butterfly until just before the last uphill before the Beeline turn around. I was starting to wonder if they'd abandoned me on the day, but it seems I just didn't need them until then. Whenever my head starts to get negative, my little winged cheerleaders appear. It was a little black butterfly that ambled in front of me just as I was griping to myself about climbing up a hill into the headwind. The butterfly gave me some extra power and I passed a whole heap of people on the uphill. The second half of this loop was fun, as I had the help of a tailwind back to the Mill Ave turn around. So, as I turned around for the 3rd loop, I was greeted with a headwind, but it seemed to be dying down. I saw my second butterfly at the same spot as the first, just before the last hill on the Beeline. I powered up the hill this time - just after having a brief conversation with a guy I was passing that "hey, the wind has died down, cool". Then, just as I turned around I discovered where the wind had gone. Sometime during the second loop the wind did a 180. Crap! What is THIS tomfoolery? Are you kidding? I have to do the last 18 miles in a headwind? But I was SO looking forward to a tailwind - and then, a butterfly ambled across the road. Okay, I gained some perspective - everyone's got the same headwind in, just be the eagle. During my 86 mile time trial out on Canada road two weeks before, it was crazy windy and a falcon was playing in the wind just about 10 meters in front of me. I thought of that now - the headwind wasn't much compared to that day. I saw three more butterflies on the Beeline, all at times when my thoughts were turning negative regarding the wind or how long it was taking to do the last 18 miles.

The scenery in Arizona is a bit surreal. Giant cacti and big craggy rocks. I've never been in a desert but for this race, and so it feels a bit like I'm in a road runner cartoon. Ironman certainly can treat you like Wile E. Coyote. Just when you think you have it all figured out an anvil comes out of nowhere to crush you - and then your dynamite backfires. We never learn that there is no way to be entirely prepared. Like my husband Mike says, race time calculators are neat and all, but they are entirely useless. I came to find out later that Mike hit a manhole with half a mile to go in the first loop - he hit it with such force (this is impressive) that he stripped the bolts that connected them to the stem. He barely avoided doing a Hincapie (for all of you non-cyclists, Hincapie's steering tube snapped during the 2006 Paris-Rubaix where he flew over the handlebars and ended his race with a severely separated his shoulder) and was lucky to only be half a mile from the Landis cyclery repair tent. They didn't have the right sized bolts, so they had to jimmy the handlebars back on & he had to ride the last loop entirely on his aerobars, without brakes because he couldn't put any weight on the handlebars. He handled the whole situation perfectly (no pun intended), and only lost :10. Sadly, that meant he wouldn't be passing me on the bike. I did get to see him about 2 miles after the turn around coming the opposite way - we both gave a little wave (yay! I actually saw him) -thought he might catch me, but it didn't happen. Graeme also shouted at me somewhere on the Beeline coming from the opposite direction - a got a small glimpse and I think I shouted his name? I have the severe inability to recognize people I know while I'm racing. I think it's a combination of tunnel vision & just plain brain vacation. With the exception of a few mantras repeated throughout the day, my brain takes a vacation during extended workouts. Sorry, Rachael, I didn't see or hear you the entire race even though I was looking for you! My mantra for this race was "I will get stronger as the race gets longer". Seemed to work on the bike as my third loop was faster than my second even with the wind shift which gave me a headwind for 3/4 of the last loop (albeit much milder than my previous two races here). Woo hoo! Looks like I just squeaked under my goal time for the bike which was 5:36 or 20mph. I thought of everyone watching back at home as I cruised over the last mat towards T2 & then remembered to get my feet out of my shoes.

112 mile bike: 5:34:04

The bike catchers are angels from heaven. Thank God I don't have to remember where to rack my bike. Oh, so, I forgot to mention that on the last 3 miles of the bike, as I stood up on a corner to stretch my legs, my left quad cramped up where it inserts into the pelvis. I remembered the kinesiotape strip that I had put in my T2 bag just in case some of my tape loosened up during the race. I was saved! So, in every 70.3 or Ironman race, I always manage to have a full bladder in T2 no matter how much I peed earlier in the bike. This time I just planned on grabbing my T2 bag and going straight into the porto with it. I tossed my aero helmet off in front of the loo (I've worn in there before and it is a total hazard - constantly banging it on the walls) and then proceeded to put on my shoes (I was going to run my first marathon without socks as they always get wet & cause blisters - I liberally applied vaseline along my blister-prone spots inside the shoe). Put on my hat, grabbed my helmet as I opened the door and handed everything to the volunteer saying "I'm done - just stick my helmet in the bag - thank you, you rock!!"

T2 (bike to run transition) 2:45

Uh-oh. Running didn't feel so good. I was fully intending my run to be my secret weapon, but my legs weren't firing. I think my quads got mega tight on the bike & they didn't like being stretched out on the run. Luckily, the kinesiotape I had put on my upper quad quieted it down - I had no problem with it cramping again at all. I couldn't help but wonder if I had put the kinesiotape on my quads too (it had it on my psoas, gracilis, hamstrings, pirformis - on both legs - and also had it on my left lower achilles) that maybe they wouldn't be so sore :) So, the result was very heavy legs and a stomach that didn't feel quite right. My heart rate was right where I planned on having it (right around 145), but I wasn't hitting anywhere close to the 8:30 pace I wanted to be hitting. I started out doing an 8:45, then 8:55, then 9:10, and I was starting to get frustrated as 4 women have now passed me in my age group (although I only saw 3 go by). It was right about then that a butterfly went floating by in front of me. Remember that mantra "you'll get stronger as the race gets longer". Okay, stay here at this heart rate, don't push through this, your legs & stomach can come back, they did in April. Those runners can come back to you at the end of the race. The numbers weren't getting any better on my watch. I stopped looking - no positive mojo there. I also remember thinking "Damn, this is hard. Why didn't I remember how hard this is?" Thought I could run a 3:45, HA! Somehow all those runner's endorphins I got in training totally blocked the memory of Ironman pain. And then another butterfly came by, this time a big orange & black one and flew directly in front of me for awhile. Okay, big smile again, my cheerleaders are back! I saw my last butterfly during the most difficult section of the run, around mile 14. This reminded me that in April, my stomach settled and I was able to jog again at mile 15 (just after the hill). My attitude brightened and I began to imagine myself running faster at the mile 15 mark. Lo and behold, my stomach felt better and I started to run faster. I had been going as slow as 10:30 miles, and now picked it up to around 9:00 miles. I was starting to pass more people and got lots of encourgement from the crowd during the mile before the start of my last loop.

I felt a bit of relief wash over me - I was wearing a hat that said "Stay Strong" and then had my chiropractor, Dr. Steve Capobianco's website on it (symmetrysport.com) - I would have looked pretty stupid walking at the end of the race while wearing a "stay strong" hat. Phew. I could see the eventual 7th place woman up in front of me, I passed her with 7 miles to go and said, "come with me, let's do this Kona thing together". No response. She must've been in survival mode - what I refer to as "the world of me". Luckily, I didn't have to go there this race. I then ran into another rough spot - my increased speed required more fluids - I was a bit dehydrated and started to get a side stitch. I decided to walk through the next aid station and make sure I drank a good 8oz of gatorade. This helped, but the stitch was still there, again I walked the next aid station and downed 8 oz of gatorade - this time I had success. The stitch went away and I really started to crank up the speed. I felt GREAT. Hey, I felt GREAT - woo hoo!!! I hadn't felt great the entire race. I got a nice rush of endorphins and went to work on catching the other women in my age group who had caught me much earlier in the run. I knew one of them wasn't feeling well - I heard her tell her coach or friend as she ran by me back at mile one. She had to be within reach. So, over the Mill Ave bridge and into the crowd, only one more loop of a figure 8 left! I felt like I was on cruise control and was picking off people left and right. It had kinda turned into a death march out there on the third loop - I certainly had been part of that in April. WIth about 3.5 miles to go, I spotted two of the women in my age group that had passed me before mile 1, they were running maybe 10 feet apart, I decided to go by them sprinting, since there was a curve coming up - I could slow down after I was out of sight. I wanted to make them think "no way" so they wouldn't try and stay with me. It worked! I had no idea how many women were still in front. I knew that the eventual 3rd place was in front of me, she passed me early on the second loop before I got my mojo back. I let myself believe that I was going to qualify in the last 2-3 miles. I ran by Mike and I didn't even notice (and mind you, at 6'4" he's kind of hard to miss) - he shouted after me I heard him say, "I love you!" and I threw my hand in the air to wave (and briefly thought what a freakin' space cadet I was, that I could miss seeing my husband), and then Graeme who was a couple miles back shouted at me from across the way - I was on a mission, so there was no stopping now. I pretty much turned myself inside out the last 2 miles & ended up averaging 8:30 miles for the last 6 miles of the marathon. Better late than never! It's a good thing that I never hit the wall, and I really did get stronger as the race got longer! It will be so good to have that confidence going into the next race. I had a big sh*t-eating grin on my face as the trail split off to the finish chute. I soaked up the finish & had a good time high-fiving kids all the way to the line. I had my Ironman PR by 18 minutes and was officially a member of the sub-11 ironman club. Oh - and the lack of socks worked - no blisters - not even the start of a tiny one. The Zoot racers were awesome. This was also the first marathon where my feet didn't hurt. I'm attributing that to being sockless - I was able to keep them cool by pouring water on them & I never got the hot foot that has plagued me in the past.

26.2 mile run: 4:05:03
Race Total: 10:50:22, 4/105 starters for my 35-39 age group

So after I crossed the line I got some food and sat down (Moses, was that painful). The only thing I could eat were the french fries which I covered in salt. In between bites I put my head on the table and wondered why I felt so crappy - I'm not moving anymore, why is my body still crabbing? How is it that I was just running? - the edorphins were fading fast and the pain was setting in big time. I was taking a hit on my rescue inhaler every 5 minutes for about a half hour. I was secretly wishing that someone would take pity and carry me to the med tent. Then, when this didn't happen, I was trying to materialize a porthole to the med tent , but I sadly gave up on this fantasy. Finally, I started to feel partially human, so I mustered up the energy to drag myself towards the morning bags to get my dry clothes. I was freezing. Those space blankets only cover so much. Thank God I ran into Rachael. Rachael was kind enough to let me borrow her jacket until I found mine. Mind you, I didn't exactly smell like roses at this point. She also helped me carry my bags & bike. Thank you Rachael!! You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Graeme, did you?

After I changed clothes, I talked to my mom and my sister, Pam, who told me that I was fourth. Hrm - does that mean I qualified or not? When I did the math, my age group made up 5% of the field, and 5% of 72 kona age group slots = 3.6. Does that mean there are 3 or 4? Hell. Mike suggested since I earned .6 of a slot that I should just leave my head at home. Ugh. Guess I would have to wait until the next morning to find out. Thank you, everyone, that was watching at home. I thought of you guys every time I went over a timing mat! I did get to see Mike finish & Graeme finished shortly after Mike. After I played sherpa for Mike (yes, I was carrying 6 bags, and some nice guy had pity on me & helped me carry them for a bit) we dragged ourselves slowly back to the hotel. I always have well-meaning intentions to make it back to the finish line between 11-12, but it hasn't happened yet. Not even at Wisconsin last year when our hotel was less than a 100yds from the finish. This time I wasn't hungry & that was good since the hotel was out of ice cream. It was really bizarre that I wasn't hungry. I guess all those water-only no calorie workouts were effective. In the morning I saw the beautiful number 4 next to the W35-39 age group. listing the number of Kona slots. Yes!!! In the Kona slot tent the "clerks" were Michael Lovato and Heather Fuhr, how cool is that? It was so nice to have my name be on the top of the dividing line for Kona slots instead of underneath. I've been first loser twice by 2 minutes and change, so this was sweet. I also had fun going up on stage at the awards - I especially enjoyed talking to the other women that qualified. The woman who got second did so in her first Ironman - not too shabby! I'm looking forward to seeing them all in Kona again :) Before that Mike, myself, Megumi, and Stewart are all doing Ironman CDA in Idaho next June. I'm looking forward to having fun at that race with no pressure (which, of course, I only put on myself).

Extra kisses to Mike for giving me a stern talking to about setting the bar higher - you helped me believe that I could go faster :)

Thanks again to Graeme for putting up with us - you went from cameraman to Ironman! Congratulations - put all you learned back in the bank for the next one. Louisville 2010, anyone?

Jeanette

 

 Ironman number 4: Ironman Arizona April 2008

If you've read my other race reports, you know that I've always got some sort of issue threatening to keep me from the start and/or finish line. This race was no exception. I started training after 6 weeks off in November. Besides a brief bout with bronchitis in November, training went great up to February. While we were reading stories in bed one night, my much-too-strong-for-his-age 3-yr-old kicked me (trying to get the covers off) in the back & dislocated one of my ribs from my spine. I really only ended up having to take 4 days off of running & took it easy swimming for a week, but thought if this is the worst hang-up that I would have training, I was still in good shape. After doing the half-vineman last yr with a severely bruised or broken rib, a dislocated rib was nothing in comparison. It's a fixed joint, who cares. However, I wasn't done sabotaging my training. In mid-March I ended up running 36 miles in 3 days (trying to make up for missed training days earlier when my kids had the stomach flu). This was dumb. The next day I took off and my body got busy making all kinds of scar tissue which ended up adhering to my sciatic nerve (and branches thereof) and it took 22 days before the nerve was entirely free. The race was four days later. So, I didn't run at all (Ok, I did take a few steps down my hall and such to test, but there were no runs longer than a single minute) for the 26 days leading up to the race. I didn't know if I'd be able to run on race day, and had mentally prepared myself for walking well in advance of the race. I was hopeful, however, as my leg felt better (with the exception of a big fat bruise behind my knee from treatment) the day before the race than it had in 4 weeks. The suspense was killing me.

Mike and I stayed at Hotel Graeme on Thursday and Friday (thanks for being such an awesome host, Graeme) along with Stewart (first time Ironman participant who we used to go on training rides with until he abandoned us for Denver). Graeme shuttled us around everywhere, was our baggage handler, and then personal photographer on race day. You rock.

So, before each race I pray to see my spiritual cheerleaders – butterflies. If I just see a few, I know I will finish & this time I asked for a lot if I was going to do well. I'll just say in advance that I only saw three (although they were strategically placed). It was going to be a long day.

I had been stretching like a maniac in the days leading up to the race, and race morning started with more of the same plus lots of foam rolling. We headed down to transition and I put my foam roll, my massage ball, and a golf ball all in my T2 bag just in case. I also put an airborne container in my T1 bag so I could stick it in my pocket and use it to roll my IT band if needed on the bike. I didn't end up needing it on the bike, but it sure came in handy the third loop of the run. Listened to some tunes, put on the wetsuit, kissed Mike good-bye and good-luck and jumped into the cesspool that is Tempe Town Lake. I decided to start in the front row of the swim since I got stuck behind slower folks at IMWI starting in the 3rd row. I spotted Stewart, was yelling and waving – but he was in a nervous coma so I swam over to him and told him that nothing but a :48 would suffice (you knew I was kidding, right?). No countdown, just a one minute warning and then blammo! This time I planned on sprinting the first 100 meters, but I don't know if it made any difference since I probably have exactly one fast-twitch muscle fiber. The swim was weird. I'd be caught in a big bunch getting pushed from both sides, elbows in my neck, stomach, etc., and then all of a sudden there'd be open water. I'd gap up, and then the pattern would start all over again. The swim never opened up permanently like it has in past races. I was stuck in a big group of sloppy swimmers right up to the end. Unfortunately, with about 500 meters to go, someone sliced me with their fingernail on my neck and then I got jabbed with their elbow near my windpipe. I instinctively went up for air and got a mouthful of sewage instead. I felt it hit my stomach like a rock and immediately thought “I'm done for”. I then pushed that thought out, and went with the positive, but positive thinking doesn't neutralize motor oil, bacteria, and whatever other sh*t was in there. After all, you can't see your own hand in front of your face. In hind sight, I should've stuck my finger down my throat in the porto at T1. If I swallow *water* again in November, that will be my plan. I was briefly disappointed with my time, because I really wanted to go under 1:02, but I was close enough and just shook it off.

2.4 mile swim: 1:03:15 9/101 age group, 276/2027 overall

T1. After the wetsuit pullers had a short battle with my wetsuit, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was jogging! I had to pick up my own bag this time - next time I'm going to wrap colored electrical tape around the handles - it would've been much faster to find. My volunteer was metal - she wiped off my feet, untangled my helmet, cleaned off my sunglasses, and got me water all in record time. Got some sunscreen, and then had to get my bike off the rack myself, which was fine, especially considering that last year a volunteer handed me the wrong bike.

T1: 4:48


Got on my bike and started out in the small ring to warm my legs up. My stomach felt knotty so I decided to hold off on my nutrition for a half hour to see if it would settle. I saw my first butterfly about five miles into the bike, so that relaxed me and I settled into a good pace. The wind was reversed from last year, so there was a headwind on the way out going uphill, and an amazing tailwind going back to town on the downhill. Winds were probably 10 mph first loop, 15-20 on the second, and 15 on the third loop. So much for the weatherman's previous day's prediction of a 9mph max. Temperatures climbed into the 90s, but it felt much hotter out on the Beeline inbetween aid stations. On the first loop, I tried my nutrition (hammer gel & Gatorade mix) after 30 minutes, but my stomach didn't want it. I was able to drink just Gatorade on this loop, but it wasn't digesting. I looked down and saw a nice, distended abdomen & thought of an old Newby-Frasier commentary on a pro that ended up dropping out from IMAZ 2005. "Look at that stomach sticking out. This is not a good sign. She's in trouble." Soon Gatorade was no longer doable, and I at first tried watering it down at the aid stations. I ended up losing my hammer gel bottle near the end of the first loop on that horribly craggy section of McClintock Rd. It's like there are seams in the road, little miniature speed bumps. The woman who then passed me, informed me that it was "back there" as I went to reach for it. I replied "well, I'm not going back for it". Next thing I know, a butterfly floats by & I return to positive thinking. My stomach didn't want it anyways, so now I was lighter! Excellent. I completed the first loop in 1:48 - rock on!


And then the winds picked up and the sun started blazing. My stomach was still not cooperating, and by the middle of the second loop my front drink was all water. I was still able to take in my salt tabs and I was peeing, so at least I was able to stay hydrated. However, I was starting to worry about my lack of calorie intake. The second loop saw me slow down to a 1:57. I spent most of that loop on the way out trading places with Polly Crawford - another 35-39er looking to qualify. She rocketed off on the downhill section never to be seen again. By the third loop I had been doing water only for some time. I thought I'd better try some Gatorade or I'd really be doomed for the run. I know from experience that if I can't take in calories on the bike, it's only going to get worse on the run. I spit the rest of the water in my front drink onto myself (remember, it's hot) and filled it up with Gatorade at the next aid station. Stabbing pains. Not good. Now it was frying pan hot and the wind would immediately evaporate any attempts to cool myself off. I didn't care anymore (not a good sign) about Kona and dropped into what I refer to as "the world of me". This is where I am completely unaware of my surroundings and am just in survival mode. The last stretch of wind was only bearable because I knew it was the last stretch of wind and I would be able to do a little coasting back into town once it was behind me. Mike passed me around mile 80. We had a bet going that the first one of us into T2 gets a new bike. At the time I didn't care a lick about the bet. It was good to see him and I was glad that one of us was still feeling good. After this, there was about 4 miles to the turn around. It was such a long 4 miles. I looked up and saw that I wasn't past the big craggy (word of the day) rock yet. I searched for the mile markers on the opposite side of the high way. Just make it to the next mile marker. Okay, now to the next one. Alright, one more and then I'll be able to see the turn around. Sweet Jesus, I finally made it to the turn around! I briefly passed Mike at around mile 85 as he was spending lots of time hydrating and dumping water on himself at the aid stations, I had delusions about winning our bet. About a mile or two later he repassed me. Well, there goes my R3 for good. Crap. Tried the Gatorade again on the downhill, but no doing. It was a bit frustrating as I wasn't nauseated at all. So, it was all just stuck in there, sticking out, mocking me. Last loop was a 2:02. I also had "hot foot" which had started around mile 50, but I was able to control the intensity by dumping water in my shoes at the aid stations. I took my feet out of the shoes just before going up the wood ramp into T2. They were not happy feet. Hopped off my bike and a volunteer immediately took it. That is so cool.

112 mile bike: 5:47:11 8/101 age group, 334/2027 overall

Checked out my bike time - somehow I still got my Ironman bike PR by 8 minutes. The highlight of my day! When I started to jog in T2 it was ugly. Searing, stabbing pains racked my stomach. I hobbled to a porto and contemplated trying to throw-up, but I figured it was too late. My stomach wasn't happy at IMWI last year and I was able to jog & it recovered after four miles, so I thought I'd just give it a go. When I exited the porto a volunteer was standing there with my helmet and bag saying, "follow me". What service! I had stuck my massage ball in my shoe so I wouldn't forgot to stick it under my left hamstring while putting on my shoes (see, Dr. Steve, I listen) . I decided the golf ball would be a good idea to break up some of the crap in my feet from the hot foot. That worked great, then I got on my socks and shoes. I passed on the foam roll - no IT probs on the bike. I had wrapped up a Red Bull in ice knowing that it would melt and sweat, placing my hat under it. It was glorious to put a cold, wet hat on. I abandoned the Red Bull to watery grave.

T2: 3:40

Since I had been using the word "craggy" all day (thanks, Graeme) this is the word I'll use to describe my stomach. I started jogging anyways, and for the first 3 miles my legs were working well. I managed to gut out a 9:10 first mile and was still remaining hopeful for my finish time, when I tried to take a sip of Gatorade at the first run aid station. Mistake. Immediate, debilitating, large butcher-knife type stabbing pains seared through my stomach. Usually this type of thing happens when you've had too many calories on the bike, but I had had maybe 400 calories on the entire race course to this point. This was bad. Is it possible to finish a marathon on such a severe deficit of calories? I figure I burn close to 6000 calories during an Ironman with roughly half of those being on the run. I started to have visions of myself passing out or going delirious before getting to the finish line. Shake it off, I have plenty of fat stores to do this. I could still do water and salt, so at least I wasn't dehydrated. I decided to try coke at the next aid station. I used to take coca-cola syrup as a kid when my stomach was upset, so maybe it could work. By the second mile my pace slowed to 11:00. Coke didn't hurt as much as Gatorade, but it still made knots in my stomach, so I decided I was done with calories unless my stomach flattened out a bit. I decided to jog as long as I could.

about mile 4 of 26.2

My stomach got worse with the jostling - every mile got more difficult and slower. The heat wasn't an issue for me - I kept ice in my hat and hands and was able to stay cool enough - but my stomach just wouldn't let me go. By mile 6 my stomach was now rejecting even water, plus my left knee was sore & it was starting to make my hip and hamstring complain. At least 5 people from my age group had already passed me, and I knew that there were several women that were always in front of me. I accepted that Kona was not going to happen for me today and I let myself walk. Shortly after I started walking, I saw my final butterfly for the day. I was going to finish. I thought I would have to walk the rest of the marathon (I would've finished in 15 hrs) and was prepared to do so, but was pleasantly surprised later to be able to jog. As I started to walk, I briefly wanted to cry at my perceived loss, but then I mentally slapped myself. I thought of the guy out there on the handcycle doing the whole race with just his arms. I could still walk – and my real goal at each Ironman is to finish. I could still do that & I could do it with a smile on my face, keeping a sense of humor. To everyone who told me “you look great” I answered back “Don't lie to me, I look like sh*t, but I'm still moving. It won't be pretty but I am going to finish.” I made sure to high five every kid out there holding up his/her hand and flashed a smile for anyone who encouraged me to continue. I remember telling someone who asked how I was doing that it was a long way between aid stations when you're walking. A woman pointed to me and told me that I was her Ironman hero for not quitting. I saw Mike along an out and back section by the lake & erroneously thought he was ahead of me instead of behind him. I had never see him pass me - but unbeknowest to me, he had spent a long time in the T2 change tent. I mentioned to him later that I should've changed our bet to "whoever starts the run first" instead of "whoever enters T2 first", but he told me that he would've dragged his ass out over the run mat and stopped at the first shade he encountered instead of resting in T2. Insanity. I had plenty of time to read signs while I was walking and was just thinking about how gol-dang sore my feet were when I read a sign that said, “your feet are so sore because you are kicking so much ass.” That made me laugh & I briefly lamented that the only ass I was kicking was my own.

Those who win Kona spots foster admiration not inspiration. Ironman inspiration is Julie Moss crawling to the finish line, it's Dick Hoyt pulling and pushing his son Ricky through the entire race, it's Paula-Newby Frasier lying on the ground announcing “I think I'm dying” 100 yards from the finish and then getting back up to walk and finish 4th when she had been in first, it's Chris Sadowski carrying his bike to T2 in his socks after being hit by a motorcycle and then going on to finish the race, and it's Sarah Reinersten returning to Kona after missing the bike cutoff the previous year & being the first female leg amputee to finish the Ironman. It's certainly not embodied in disappointed age-groupers dropping out after having to walk the first loop even though they have 8 more hours to finish the race. It's about discovering what you are made of because everyone experiences lows in Ironman. For me, quitting is not an option – medical will have to drag me off the course. For all of you reading this that plan to do an Ironman – I implore you to persevere no matter what the day brings. Be an inspiration & don't quit unless someone escorts you off of the course (ie you miss a cutoff or you are truly medically unable to continue). You will be a different kind of proud of yourself at the finish line.


I walked with a guy (can't remember his name as the swamp water must have also killed a few brain cells) from SF for about a mile and a half before I was informed that it was his first lap (my second) and I did the math & told him he'd better start moving faster if he wanted to finish before midnight. He was a total trooper and I didn't see him again. Apparently I did pass him on my third loop (although I didn't realize it in the dark) and he did finish the race as we were both on the same flight back home on Monday . That's what I'm talking about. When we were exchanging tales of misery during our walk, he simply said he hadn't trained enough. However, he still had the balls to toe the start line and finish the race. Unlike the guy that I walked with at the end of the first loop who was trying to qualify (I think in 50-55 ag) and just gave up because he wasn't able to run. At the time I had told this quitter that part of my motivation to finish was to get a finisher medal for my kids (I have 2 and we needed 2 medals to come home with). He said he didn't have a motivator like that to continue. I told him that he would regret not finishing tomorrow, but if he stuck with it and walked the whole marathon (or maybe was able to run later on) there was no way he'd regret finishing. He didn't go for it and dropped out once we hit the transition area.

A moth floated in front of me at mile 15.5 and about a quarter mile later my stomach suddenly felt better. I found it hysterical that I was getting moth fly-bys instead of butterflies since it was dusk. So, that made me laugh. I decided to try a jog & found that I could. 11-13 minute miles sure beats the pants off of 20 minute miles. About a third of a mile later I was able to stomach cola at an aid station & decided that I would keep jogging as long as I could. It was like Wild Kingdom out there for awhile. A baby sidewinder skittered in front of me at about mile 16 and then I almost stepped on a frog that was hopping across the path a mile later. Mike commented after the race that he saw a coyote a scant distance from the race course. At the time I started jogging, I still thought Mike was ahead of me – he was actually about 10 minutes behind me. If I had known that, I probably would have kept walking until he caught up with me & then encouraged him to jog to the finish with me, or just walked the rest of the race with him. Since I thought he was in front of me, part of my motivation to jog was to catch him so we could finish together. Bummer. I have even more respect for Mike's Ironman experiences after enduring a 6:20 marathon. I am sure that quitting never entered his mind, and walking part of the marathon (well, the aid stations at least) was actually a part of his plan. It is such a long day out there and it is so mentally difficult watching what seems like everyone that you passed on the bike repassing you on the run.

After jogging through miles 16 & 17 aid stations, I walked through the remaining ones as a treat to myself, but promised myself that I would start jogging again once I passed the last trash drop. That went well, and I was even able to add a few pretzel sticks to my nutrition – they tasted like the nectar of the gods. I only let myself eat 2 or 3 per aid station for fear that my stomach would decide to relock.

I want to add a big thank-you to Graeme, Megumi, and Jill for being out there all day cheering us on, suffering along side us in the heat. It's not easy to be an Ironman spectator – I've never done it, but I have spectated during a Wildflower half at 8+ months pregnant– and it was a tough day (in fact it sent me into labor later that day), so I can only imagine spending twice as much time out there. It was great to see everyone going through the park & Megumi, you have quite a set of lungs on you! If it wasn't for your shouting I would have missed you 50% more than I did.

After the swim start, I didn't see Stewart the rest of the day. Looks like I passed him while he was in T2 as well since he had to go back and find his timing chip (he took it off to put on compression socks and forgot to put it back on). Turns out he was battling stomach cramps all day too, from swallowing the same sewage I did during the swim. He toughed it out and finished in a respectable 12:20.

About half a mile from the finish I got this unexpected big adrenaline push & ended up doing the last mile in 9 minutes - where did that come from?! I wish I could bottle this feeling and sell it. It was fun slapping hands while actually running (vs walking) - it makes a much cooler sound. For the first time in my four Ironman experiences, I actually heard "Jeanette Mucha from San Carlos, California You are an Ironman!". It was appropriate, as I felt like I had really earned the title this time. I'm even considering going to get an Ironman tattoo on my ankle, whereas I had previously decided to wait until I qualify for Kona. All that extra suffering has really made the experience part of me.

26.2mi run: 6:19:21 62/101 age group, 1370/2023 overall (can you believe that over 650 people either "ran" slower or didn't finish?)

TOTAL FINISH TIME: 13:18:14 (two hours and ten minutes slower than a year ago)
24/101 age group, 756/2023 overall

Graeme and Megumi were there waiting and I gave a short tale of my woes until I realized that I might pass out if I didn't go sit down and eat immediately. They stayed to watch Mike's finish while I was able to engulf a couple pieces of pizza and some french fries (french fries are the perfect food after an Ironman). I was done and decided to get up and go get my cell phone so I could call my parents and also see if Mike had finished (hadn't heard his name yet though). I was dizzy and sat back down. A retired EMT from Texas told me that I looked pale even in the dark. He made me lie down and put my legs up on a chair. He got me a coke and didn't let me get up until there was color in my face (a good 30 minutes). At this point some of the food was finally getting into my system and I felt better. I then heard Mike finish and started looking for him in the food tent. At least no asthma problems this race, despite the wind, so I think I have that figured out.

Mike and I will be back in Tempe for the November race this year. This time our fearless photographer will be joining us to attempt his first Ironman. I can't wait.