For a week and a half, I was a bundle of nerves. For a year, I figured Chelsea would be the nervous one, but nope. It was me. I even started having nightmares about getting lost on the course. Shockingly, I slept very well the night before the race. But before we knew it, the 4 a.m. wake up call rang.
Time for traditional oatmeal and the morning routine before we packed up and headed to Monona Terrace. Tim dropped off Chelsea and I right where we had to drop our special needs bags. He found an amazing parking spot then did boyfriendly duties and got in line at Starbucks for Chelsea while we walked to prep our bikes. We stopped to say good morning to the Voice of Ironman, who has been such a help in me getting my story out! Thanks Mike!
We both had wonderful rack spots. When you walked all the way through transition toward the Bike Out, you literally ran right into my bike. Ah, the joys of a low bib number. (Note: Participating in the Janus Charity Challenge provides low bib numbers!) I pumped up tires, added my nutrition to my bento box and triple checked that the bike was ready to roll. After about 4 stops to the porty potty to make sure everything was on target, Chels and I found "Team IMOO" to say our last words as Iron Virgins before we headed to the water.
As we zipped up our wetsuits and were herded toward Lake Monona, Chelsea was jumping around unable to contain her nervous excitement and energy. I tried to conserve everything I had, until the DJ had me going and I couldn't help but shake it a bit. We waded into the lake, exchanged a good luck hug and promised to see each other at the finish line. Before we knew it the cannon blared and we were off.
The mass swim start was intimidating from the get go. My brother told us it was the single most scary athletic experience he'd had. So instead of heading out to the middle of the pack. I stayed where I could touch and let the crazy fast swimmers out ahead of me. I stayed wide toward the shoreline on my way to the first buoy and avoided many of the other swimmers. At every breath, you can hear the crowd on the Terrace screaming for you. It is such a unique experience - swimming. To have your face in the water, where all you can hear is the gurgle of the waves and your breath and all you can see are the murky movements caused by your stroke. Its a great time for introspection and to feel at one with the world.
At the first turn, I felt good and felt confident, so I stayed to the inside of the buoys except for at the corners. While it is completely impossible to avoid all other swimmers, I did a pretty good job on the first lap. At the start of Lap 2, I enjoyed the company of a kayaker since I can't swim and pee at the same time. If you can do it, many props to you. It was 7:42 am - and I was stoked that my first 1.2 was so fast! I've never done a Half Iron swim at that time. Go me!! The start of Lap 2 was a little more rough and my goggles were knocked loose. I took my time to get them readjusted and then started my freestyle again, focusing on form and efficiency. I knew I had properly hydrated when I had to visit another kayaker at the final turn, which is when fellow KC Multisporter Jim got out of the water. I finished strong and fast (1:32 - much better than expected!) and enjoyed the screams of encouragement from Team IMOO and other fans as I made my way to the strippers and up the helix toward T1.
Transistion is what makes Ironman Wisconsin so unique. Everything is up a level from the ground, so you have to make your way up a parking garage ramp to get to the changing areas. If you were able to go fast enough, you'd get dizzy. Spectators line the helix and you have fans the whole way. I used this time to regain my composure, let my heart rate drop and get focused on the upcoming task at hand. Entering the building, I called out my number and a handsome volunteer handed me my gear bag. I hurdled other bags to get to the changing area where another wonderful volunteer saw me in all my glory as I stripped to change to bike shorts and a dry sports bra. It was the triathlon comparison of having a personal shopper, or so I imagine. They do the work and bring you the items you need, all with the goal of you leaving happy. I've never been dressed by a stranger before, but I must say, it was quite a treat. If you've ever tried to put on a sports bra or tight top when you're wet, help is pretty much a necessity.
Grabbing my bike from another wonderful volunteer at the racks, I ran to the mount line and was off. Down the helix I'd just run up, braking the whole way to avoid a wreck. That would be a bad start to a bike ride. On the road out, spectators line the streets cheering. It made me feel kinda like a celebrity with paparazzi following me and cameras flashing left and right.
After a weird leg jetting in and out of bike trails and parking lots, you're able to pick up your speed on some rolling hills for the first 15-20 miles of the ride before the loop starts - which is where I ran into Team IMOO and got more energized to take on the day. On the far western side of the loop, as I rode north and looked over my left shoulder, I saw the most beautiful, lush green fields. The sign on my right told me there was a raspberry farm somewhere close by and I couldn't help feeling like I was really in God's Country. On such a beautiful morning with absolutely perfect weather, there was no where else I'd rather be. Every athlete was enjoying himself and though we're all competitive, everyone was encouraging and motivating everyone else. I saw spectators with a sign "Pain is temporary and pride is forever. Unless you're over 40." That made me laugh and remember that even though at some point this is going to suck - I'll be able to call myself an Ironman for the rest of my life.
The three hills were the part of the loop I was really not looking forward to. As I approached them, I was passed by the leading male pro, 4:15 into the race and I was getting lapped. Its pretty amazing to see how fast they ride, to hear the whizz of their disc wheels and feel the wind they create as they pass. If only you could get them to hollar "on your left" I would have gotten more out of the way. Old Sauk was lined with people screaming and encouraging the riders up the half mile climb. Not as bad as I'd imagined. I think I can do this. There was a bit of a straight, flat ride after Old Sauk where I was passed by more pro's. One, who I think might have been #12 and I know was wearing brown shorts, stood up and stopped pedaling. I thought he was stretching and cooling off from a water bottle shower, but then it hit me. Pee. He was peeing and it literally hit me. GROSS! I mean seriously, give a girl a warning!
Up the second big climb and I found Team IMOO again. I felt great and was ready to keep riding. The third hill really sucked but there was a cross-dressed cheerleader doing flips and shaking his/her pompoms so that made the climb more fun. Next I knew, it was time to start Lap 2 and I felt like I could ride forever. Until I got to mile 85. Yikes. That's about when the 3 hills started again and my legs felt heavy. I think I'd pulled a muscle in my left forearm, which made reaching for the brakes difficult and painful. My upper back, neck and shoulders were tired and sore and I was ready to be off my stupid bike!!! At the top of Old Sauk, a spectator cheered me up. She held a sign "Ironman is like good sex." So I asked if she meant it was painful? "No, just ROUGH." Ain't that the truth. This ride is rough. And painful. But hopefully she's right and it will end blissfully! I suffered through to about mile 95 when my brother ditched his family at Culvers and sprinted next to me for a quarter mile or so. Who knew he was so fast!? That was a big pick me up for the final leg back into transition.
One thing that really messes with you mentally is when your odometer passes the century mark. You think you're done, but nope. 12 more miles. And for most people, 12 miles is a decent distance to ride. So I tried to focus on having fun, beating the cutoff by more than an hour and spin in easy so my legs would be ready to run. Volunteers in T2 were just as wonderful and I saw my race buddy from Redman 08 there to help out and sign up to race 2010.
As I started the run, I found the O'Donnell side of Team IMOO waiting for me. Cheering me on, I learned The Face was about to start Lap 2 and I should see her before too long. There isn't too much to report from the run. I ran when I could. Walked when I needed to. The lap in Camp Randall, UW's football stadium felt like a spa pedicure. Turf on sore feet is a dream come true.
Me being me, I made some friends while running. TriSupporter's girl and I had buddied up and then realized we had mutual friends. Another girl and I had been playing cat and mouse on the bike and upon chatting realized our friends were friends back in KC. It is such a small world. There is one big hill on the UW campus that you must run, er, walk up. At the top a group was studying the words so they could accurately sing. I mean really, who needs a lyric sheet for Sweet Caroline?! So I stole the mic and karaoked to the crowd before taking off and using gravity to my advantage. Chelsea lapped me at about mile 12/25 and I tried to keep up with her - but damn, that girl is fast. I could only manage the Ironman Shuffle and not a full out run so I wished her the best and off she went. As darkness set in, I expected to hit a wall. To want to quit. But I never did. I enjoyed every miserable step of the run. With many thanks to the volunteers and other athletes, particularly Team in Training from Madison and the wonderfully costumed aid stations from the 60s proclaiming the benefits of "Legalizing GU" and the need for "LSD", I truly had a great run.
Going into the day, I said that if I finished in 15:30, I would be ecstatic. With 2 miles to go, I had 30 minutes to make my goal, and I did my best to pick up the pace so I could demolish that time. As I approached the Capital, I really wanted to walk, but some wonderful spectators encouraged me to keep with the quick step and make it to the finsher's chute. All I could think about was the proclamation I was about to hear.
I rounded the corner and immediately beamed. Full on ear to ear smile. I had gone 140.6. I was still smiling. Goals accomplished. Then from the PA system, I hear "FROM PRAIRIE VILLAGE, KANSAS....TRISH O'DONNELL..." But it's not THE voice. As I look up to the announcer's booth, I see Mike Reilly grab the mic and start screaming "WAY TO GO TRISH. YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!!"
As promised, I danced down the finisher's chute. (Video from Grandpa Video Productions to come.) I enjoyed every step of the way. I smiled at the finish line. And most importantly, I finished.
Even if Chelsea lapped me and beat me by 3 hours. She's a machine, so it doesn't really count. :-) All other things aside, we both accomplished our goals and lost our Iron Virginity. And that's something you can't ever take away from us. Because as they say..."Swim 2.4 miles. Bike 112 miles. Run 26.2 miles. BRAG FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE."
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The night in the over-crowded hotel room was interesting - but luckily I've got a great family and we can all handle each other, even in close quarters. I stayed patient for the most part, until I woke up for the 4th time with a heel in my ribs. Apparently Ian doesn't understand you need a good night's sleep before a race!
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