Ironman Florida - Race Report Part 2

Leaving the tent after T1 with sunscreen streaks still glistening down my arms and Patriot Sangria patiently waiting in her primo spot, I heard one volunteer call out my number - "2-3-8-0," and had practically reached my bike when I saw another volunteer frantically running over to her. Triathlon volunteers are generally pretty cool, but those who donate their time to Ironman are unbelievable. So, I just stopped in my tracks and waited while the volunteer unhooked Patriot Sangria from the bike rack and happily trotted her over to me. I gave the volunteer a big thanks, then checked Patriot Sangria's tires - which seemed primed and ready to go. I gave Patriot a grateful pat on the seat and rolled her over to the mount line.

I clicked in easily and we headed off on our 112 miles through Panama City.

I remembered the first 10ish miles from the practice ride TRIgirl DL and I completed earlier in the week. While the wind tunnels still existed through a stretch that passed several mega tall hotels, overall, the wind was calmer than any day we'd been there.

We soon hit the turn-off to major roads outside the touristy area and the scenery grew more quiet. I'd envisioned palm tree lined streets, which never materialized.

At mile 12, Patriot and I hit the "most difficult" part of the course. An overpass bridge with a noticeable, but not terribly hard hill. I overheard a few of the racers commenting "I thought Florida was supposed to be flat." I am no hill lover, nor am I very good at them, but I passed a few folks struggling. The downhill after the crest was fun. Since it wasn't that steep - I could deal with just letting Patriot gather up some speed as she cruised me toward the bottom.

Onward we forged. I was feeling really good and kept Patriot in an easier gear than normal, still noticing decent paces between 18 and 20 miles per hour. While I knew I was still pretty far back in the pack, it felt good to see riders with fancy wheels. I was even playing a little leapfrog with a bunch of guys in aero helmets and suppressed a smidgen of pride. Every 20 minutes I was eating half a Luna Bar. Every hour I was grabbing an endurolyte. In between, I was drinking plenty of my Carbo-pro/Accelerade/Gatorade mixture. As a matter of fact, I was drinking so much, I ran out of fluids at mile 30 and made my first stop.

Many riders whizzed by me during this stop - and the others that would come. But I didn't really care. I felt safe stopping. I was able to carefully replenish my fluids and replace my water bottles. With an added bonus of a chance to stretch my legs.

I never caught up with all who passed me, but I did actually re-pass a decent number of others. While I thought it would be nice to maybe, someday, be able to do the drive through "grab and go," I was comfortable with my conservative approach for this first Ironman.

As I said, I was knocking back plenty of fluids - and around mile 35 - Mother Nature began calling. I decided to hold off while passing the mile 40 aid station - to wait until the special needs stop. The idea of peeing on my bike crossed my mind, but as I looked down on Patriot - and one of my water bottles below - I couldn't bring myself to cross that line.

Eating on the bike started to get harder. I was gagging on my Luna Bars, but was still able to get them down.

After awhile, like a mirage, the special needs station was in sight. I passed a bunch of signs looking for my row. Way far down the line, I found my bag - with a reward bite size Snickers waiting for me. Switching out my water bottles and other nutrition, I moved onto the porto potty.

"Ugh," I thought, "look at the line." Over ten riders were ahead of me to use one of the two porto potties. I resigned myself to a little "gotta go" leg shuffling, but used the opportunity to eat and drink a little more. A woman on line about two people ahead of me had an unusual yellow wrapper open across her bike seat. I then overheard her talking about the cheeseburgers she had packed.

Yes, that is right, cheeseburgers.

They are like "rocket fuel" she said.

I was salivating. They smelled and looked so good. And I never did see her again on the course, so who knows, maybe they truly were rocket fuel.

Finally, it was my turn to use the porto potty. My bladder was very happy as we headed off for the next 62 miles.

Little challenges began creeping up. The gagging worsened when trying to eat a Luna Bar every 20 minutes. After one attempt that left me swallowing some regurgitation, I switched to Sharkies and just drinking lots of calories. The straw flew off one compartment of my podiumquest, making drinking more difficult and requiring more stops to refill. Which I ended up needing anyway as I kept having to pee.

I was still cruising along pretty well. Probably until mile 75-80, which is usually the point I begin to break down. The point where my shoulders get uncomfortably sore and my butt starts complaining. Around this time, the IMFL course took us over a lovely road, with big ole cracks every 10-15 yards. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom. Not fun. Stressful, too, thinking about potential flats. Part of this lousy road looped - and I caught Coach G at one point, smiling and having a great ride.

Finally, we were off the highway from hell and heading back toward the "major hill bridge." I have to admit, I felt the hill a little more on our way back in.

But, after the bridge, it was just 11 miles till T2. I started feeling good again when hitting the wind tunnel stretch. This time I appreciated the smooth road surface and the views of the breathtaking Gulf.

Heading back into town, I caught sight of lots of pink jumping up and down. TRIgirl cheerleaders KB, KD and KG were ringing cowbells and screaming loudly. Seeing them - and especially TRIgirl KB in her pink boa - was just the recharge I needed to sail through the last miles with a big smile on my face.

Pulling into the Ironman Village area, I heard my name screamed out - my husband, mom, dad, brother and sister-in-law were right there. I teared up a little. I was so daggone happy.

The bike was over. 6 hours and 42 minutes to ride 112 miles.

Going into T2, I was feeling pretty psyched...