Check.
Bike 112 miles.
Check.
Only one more activity and I would be finished... except that one more activity was a marathon. No big deal, right? At that moment, it felt like a very big deal. I had just finished 112 miles in almost 100 degree heat with no shade. My legs had cramped to the point of no return. My hope was crushed and my ego was busted. I had no desire to go on, no drive to be an Ironman.
"Ashlee, RUN!!!!! GET YOUR FEET UP! RUUUUUUUUN!" When I had first heard Sloan's voice, my mind did not comprehend that the man was shouting at me. Once I saw that my friend had driven all the way out just to cheer me on, I knew I had to get my butt in action. Running to the transition tent, I handed The Thunder to a volunteer, flashed a weary smile at Amanda and Kaylee and lifted my arm to acknowledge my mom as I entered the tent.
I made one mistake in that tent: I took my sorry behind and I sat it down on a plastic folding chair. The cold material welcomed my weary legs and cradled me like a mother cradles her baby during a cold winter night... except it wasn't cold... it was scorching outside that tent. The sun was shining bright and the sweat sitting on my forehead and eating away at the material of my bike kit proved that.
One of the female volunteers noticed that I had not moved since I entered the tent. "Would you like some help?" She offered, cautiously. At least she was not forcing her help upon me like the swim volunteer.
No, I would like a doctor.
I am not a woman who asks for help. Independent, stubborn, fearful of appearing weak or needy... ask my boyfriend, ask my dad, ask any man... I am my own gentleman. Asking for a doctor's help was my first sign that this race was coming to an early end.
While I waited, I peeled my tri kit off and stood naked in the middle of the tent, ignoring the two male doctors standing behind me. Taking my red racing tights and green Patagonia top out of my bag, I hastily worked to cover my rear end before the doctor's arrival. When he came over and I told him about my cramping, he told me I had two options: I could go sit in the medical tent and have my legs massaged and nursed back to life or I could ignore the pain and grab straight Coke from the aid station when I passed it. The rest of my belongings were tossed back into their bag and I looked at him, shrugged my shoulders and said, Alright. Thanks.
He responded by lifting a spray bottle and squirting my legs. Not sure if I appreciated the mist or was upset that he just got my thighs wet and I might chaff, I walked out of the tent and out to my family with a forced smile. I'm done, guys. Dad, please stop videotaping this. I'm seriously done, guys. I don't want to finish. Dad, seriously. Please turn the video camera off. Okay, fine... I'll walk a little.
Walking was not an option though when I came around the bend and people began cheering my name. "Yeah, Ashlee! Great form! Looking strong!" Great... thanks for printing my name on my race bib, Ironman. I'm just SOOOOO glad that everyone knows the name of the girl who is about to collapse on that grassy spot over there.
I had no option but to run... until I came to a spot where people weren't watching. As soon as the crowds died down, so did my pace. Instead of maintaining the run, I walked two minutes, ran one minute. My pace stayed below fifteen minutes per mile, super quick, I know, but at least I would finish before the cut off time.
The run course was brutal. It was three out and backs repeated twice on concrete. The only change of scenery were the fading smiles of the runners coming back from their second lap.
"Ashlee! Ashlee! Ashlee! Looking so good! Check her fly!" Yeah, I'll fool you by running until you can't see me! What up!?
My buddy ZackZack Bertges ran toward me on his last lap and I was glad I was in my running portion of my walk-2-run-1 plan. He looked strong as an ox and nimble as a gazelle. "AshleeAshlee!" Hey you! Yay you! Okay, he's gone... now I can walk.
Outhouses waited at the aid station and I realized I hadn't peed since 5am. I waited in line for five minutes then walked into the fragrant hut. As I started wrapping toilet paper around every edge of the seat to protect my rear from the germs, I felt my crotch get wet... Yup, I just wet myself a little bit. Murphy's Law kicked in when I finally did pull my tights down to go and nothing came out. Checking the damage to my leggings, I wondered if I should wait in the porta potty until I was dry or if I should run and hope no one noticed. Oh, people noticed all right. I went with the latter option and heard several, "Oh, poor girl"s as I ran by.
C'est la vie! It's a race... pros do it all the time.
One woman named Michelle and I had played leapfrog so much during the run/walk/jog/trot that we started cheering each other on until we decided to walk together and exchange life stories. Michelle decided to continue walking, but I wanted to pick up the pace, so I said goodbye and made my way toward the final out and back. As I passed two men in their 40's, they congratulated me on my pace. That's when my minute came to an end and I started to walk. They passed me and right when they began the walk, I ran past them again. They had the same walk-run plan as I did. We pushed each other along with our game of cat and mouse. With 800 meters left in the run, I charged past them and sprinted toward the finish line.
Cheers and screams sprung my feet along the red carpet as I approached the finish line. With each prance closer to the end, the shorter the distance between me and victory and the louder the shouts of pride from the crowd. My smile widened and I ran past the clock only 15 hours and 27 minutes after starting my morning. I jogged up to a woman who wrapped me in a heat blanket and placed a medal on my neck. "How are you so awake?" She asked. "The others look so defeated, but not you!"
I went slow and saved it for the end, I confessed. She had me pose for the finishers photo and I did some modeling poses for the man behind the camera. Yeah, I'm a bad ass and I still look cute after 15 hours. What now, Mr. Photographer?
My dad called my name from the other side of the gate and I could see the pride in his eyes. I had made my daddy proud. He didn't think I would finish. My mom, Kaylee and Amanda ran up to the gate and gave me a hug. A bouquet of flowers was exchanged from my sister's hands to mine as a bottle of champagne emerged and Amanda drenched me in a cool, refreshing explosion of alcohol.
With a plate of untouched food in one hand and my flowers in the other, I ran to the finish line and looked for Michelle. When we found each other, we hugged and introduced each other to the families of which we had spoken.
End scene with my family and Amanda walking into an empty Pearl Street in downtown Colorado. Camera pans out on a day well spent and a very bubbly victory.
You inspire me!
ReplyDeleteI couldn't have done it without friends like you!
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