Ironman Revisited Part III

Part III

I started the run portion walking, and grabbed some food because I was ravenous. I finally got my legs to start running. The sun was an orange glow on the horizon. I had fantasized before the race about doing a great run, but the reality was that it was a slog. I didn’t think I had time to walk, so I ran slowly. The aid stations had lots of food, so I had soup, cookies, pretzels and coke. There were still a lot of souls out on the course in a death march as well. It was getting dark.


I didn’t think about how long I had to run because the thought was overwhelming. I was happy every time I passed a mile marker. I had until 10:15 to finish the second loop and until midnight to finish the whole thing. It was doable. Like the bike, the run had some desolate, soul searing, dark, deserted places. One area had signs up from family and friends to encourage the runners, but none of them were for me. It made me feel even more alone. The river bed in this area is dry and there is nothing to look at except some confused rabbits running around in the dark. The cement sidewalk is hard on the feet and my shins hurt. I didn’t want to think about the blisters forming on my feet. I ignored the despair trying to encircle my mind. I got through the bad spots by thinking about what the finish line was going to feel like.

It was a relief to get to the Mill Avenue bridge. At least I could see the lights on shore reflected in the water and the moving pink and blue lights on the bridge when the train went over the lake. I could hear the announcer saying “you are an ironman!” to the lucky people that had finished. I still had five hours or so to go. I went over the bridge and down to the lake path. People made it their mission to cheer us on and I thanked them, because it gave me energy. I didn’t care if I knew them because it provided a distraction from the pain. I didn’t know what was more painful-this race or a C-section. I think the C-section is, but not by much. I kept promising myself I would never do this again.
I ran over another bridge and down to the other end of the lake. A smell of sewage drifted by this unlit, dank area. I ran through Papago Park with a strange rock formation lit up by the generator light. I ran slowly up a hill past people wimping out and walking. I passed by an aid station with a pirate boat and another with a western theme. I liked the guys dressed as girls.

At this point I was running on mental power. Running at night when I was exhausted was surreal, like an altered state of mind. My body wanted to go home and go to sleep a long time ago. Surprisingly, I still felt coherent and functional. I finished the second loop before the 10:25 cut-off. The glimmer of hope of finishing grew stronger. At this point I could still finish the run even if I didn’t make the midnight cut-off, but I had at least a twenty minute leeway. I went by the turn off to the finish line. A lot of people had finished and I was still out there. The plodders were fewer and fewer.

I finally ran into my sherpa, which picked me up and made me smile. I had no family or friends to make sure that I at least got to my car after the race, but an old high school classmate volunteered for the job. He had made a sign for me, which cheered me up. It was nice to have someone stay out that late for me. Every friendly face out there was a boost.

Halfway through the last lap, I saw my coaches. They kept tabs on their athletes for the entire seventeen hour race. It was great to see some friendly faces. They told me to keep running. I picked up the pace a little. The goal of finishing was within reach, just a whisper away. The power was there. With a mile to go, I ran by someone I knew who told me “go be an ironman”. The feeling of elation was getting stronger. It was going to happen.

I finally made the left turn for the finishing chute. In contrast to the dark path I was running on, the lights were blinding. I had finally made it. Two years of heartbreak, self-doubt, pain and boredom had turned into triumph. Music was blaring, the rowdy crowd was cheering and banging the side of the bleachers. I had a blast high-fiving everyone I could, running to the finish line. It was time to celebrate. I thought I would be weepy when I finished, but I was too happy and tired to cry. I heard the announcer say “you are an ironman”. Now I know why I wanted this so much.

This was a high like no other. I had tested my limits, overcame them and accomplished something that I thought I couldn’t do. I had overcame doubts that I was physically capable of doing this distance because I was too slow or too old. I felt transformed into a different person after enduring the pain, frustration, boredom and exhaustion. It’s an incredible power to find in yourself that your mind drives you forward when your body is failing. I felt invincible.