I had already decided that I would register for Ironman 2015 on Monday morning after the race. Athletes can register for the following year on Thursday and Friday before the race, but even though I fully intended to do it, I just couldn't bring myself to make the commitment until after I'd actually completed my first Ironman. I mean, let's be reasonable, people.
I was flying high after crossing that finish line at 9:00 pm Sunday night. The flood of congratulations coming into my phone was unbelievable, the feeling of accomplishment so great, the energy of the place just phenomenal. I got to see my friend Mara cross the line. I got a massage from the volunteer LMTs in the massage tent and a ride back to my hotel with an exceedingly handsome and flirtatious man.
But man, for all my good cheer, I felt HORRIBLE. Holy shit, that thing is tough on the body. I really thought I was going to throw up. I couldn't even look at my gels and energy bars. Nothing in the fridge appealed. I knew I was running a serious calorie deficit, but ugh. I just couldn't. Every cell of my body throbbed and ached. I drew a bath, dumped in a bag of epsom salts and soaked until I pickled. I crawled into bed and finally dozed off around midnight, the aforementioned exceedingly handsome and flirtatious man in his own room on the other side of the hotel.
At 3:00 am, after mostly not sleeping due to nausea and pain, I decided there was no way in hell I was doing this again. Why on earth would I put my body through this? I am old and smart. This is foolish and brutal. I ate a couple protein bars and fell asleep until 5:00, when the aches woke me again and I decided that moving around might feel better.
The Ironman store puts their finisher gear out at 7:00 am the day after the race. You can buy general Ironman T-shirts, towels, jackets, shorts, water bottles, you name it--and Lake Placid gear too--before the race, but if you want something that says "finisher" on it, you have to wait until afterward. Which is fine, because what would suck more than spending $150 on a "finisher" softshell and then not finishing? But it's also brutally clever marketing, because the unavailability breeds incredible demand. And believe you me, if you finish that race, you want everyone in the whole world to know it, and you will pay through the teeth. It's a total racket.
"Be there early," I was warned. "And don't drink coffee first, because you have to stand in line." So, tired as I was, I went over to the store right at 7:00 to see if I could pick up something cool. When I arrived, it was pouring rain and 55 degrees, and there were 200 people waiting to get in to the store. It was like the city's hottest nightclub: two people came out, two were let in. A daytime nightclub of misery and out-of-control capitalism.
I decided very quickly that there are limits to how much I am willing to suffer in order to give this company my money, and that my 14-hour-28-minute contribution the day before was sufficient. I decided my time was far better spent with my cousin Heather over a decent breakfast.
But I had some business to attend to first. Registration for 2015 started at 8 and would probably sell out by the end of the day. I really was conflicted. I talked to some friends and strangers, and the consensus was clear: "In two days you'll want to do it again."
Oh, shit.
So I did it, signed over another huge bundle of cash to the Ironman corp and started to consider how to improve my time next year. And my advisors were absolutely right--by Tuesday I was feeling ready to start planning my off-season training.
I hobbled around Lake Placid in kind of a blur for the day. Athletes all wore their finisher gear, but it wasn't necessary: everyone who had raced was walking around like C3Po from Star Wars. We all knew each other on sight. It was a big limping street party of felicitations.
I had an outstanding massage from Tim at Balanced Bodywork, then stopped at the Rite Aid for more epsom salts, where I saw the race on the cover of one of the local papers. I took a look and started to open it up to the inside, absently thinking, wouldn't it be funny to be in the paper in a strange town? I caught myself--don't be ridiculous. This article is about the people who won, not the middle aged women who came in 1672nd. I had lunch and was pulling in to the hotel lot when I got a text:
Hi, it's Tim from Balanced Bodywork. Hope you picked up the local paper with you on the cover!
It was in the other local paper. I zipped back to the Rite Aid, where I let out a squeal, showed everyone in line and the checkout guy and and bought an extra copy for my parents. I know I already posted this twice, so I am sorry, but it makes me giggle so hard I just--
(Uh, I am not the one on the right.)
I just loved the ride home with my finisher shirt on and my sexy bike on top of my car and my new 140.6 sticker on the back, and my medal hanging from the rear view mirror where I could pet it like Gollum and his ring. Myyyyy PRECIOUS! Been a long time since I achieved something I'm this proud of.
My body hurt like hell on Monday and Tuesday, but I soaked for 15 minutes in the Belfast Y's hot tub when I rolled into town on Tuesday night, and woke up on Wednesday morning with no pain. None. I literally felt better than I felt before the race. It's some kind of crazy miracle, right? These bodies of ours are so resilient. My gratitude keeps growing.
I do feel the effects of the calorie deficit and the nutrient deficit. My overall energy level is low. The first few days I was back, I woke up in the middle of the night and had to eat. My belly has just come back to normal. My fluids are all screwy--my feet swell like Grandma's during the day, my eyes puff up at night.
Yesterday was my first day of exercise, a short and easy bike ride. I felt like doing something earlier in the week, but I just could not get out of bed. Today I swam the length of the Rockland breakwater with friends and marveled at my good fortune--even though I'm a little tired, my body felt strong enough to swim almost 2 miles with ease (okay, yes, I've been in bed all afternoon since, but still.)
I'm still a big puddle about the whole thing. People outside the bike shop today noticed my shirt and treated me like a rock star. I shook their hands and burst into tears. The hero's welcome I received coming back into town has been absolutely wonderful and totally embarrassing.
I do feel proud of my accomplishment, and so incredibly grateful for my good health and for all the love I'm feeling from friends and strangers alike. But something is missing, a small part that feels unfulfilled...and people are asking what's next. I have a solution in mind that I'm putting the final touches on. If it interests you, then please stay tuned for the final report and what lies ahead.
And you guys? Thank you so much for reading this. I hope it makes you happy. You sure make me happy.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
I was flying high after crossing that finish line at 9:00 pm Sunday night. The flood of congratulations coming into my phone was unbelievable, the feeling of accomplishment so great, the energy of the place just phenomenal. I got to see my friend Mara cross the line. I got a massage from the volunteer LMTs in the massage tent and a ride back to my hotel with an exceedingly handsome and flirtatious man.
But man, for all my good cheer, I felt HORRIBLE. Holy shit, that thing is tough on the body. I really thought I was going to throw up. I couldn't even look at my gels and energy bars. Nothing in the fridge appealed. I knew I was running a serious calorie deficit, but ugh. I just couldn't. Every cell of my body throbbed and ached. I drew a bath, dumped in a bag of epsom salts and soaked until I pickled. I crawled into bed and finally dozed off around midnight, the aforementioned exceedingly handsome and flirtatious man in his own room on the other side of the hotel.
At 3:00 am, after mostly not sleeping due to nausea and pain, I decided there was no way in hell I was doing this again. Why on earth would I put my body through this? I am old and smart. This is foolish and brutal. I ate a couple protein bars and fell asleep until 5:00, when the aches woke me again and I decided that moving around might feel better.
The Ironman store puts their finisher gear out at 7:00 am the day after the race. You can buy general Ironman T-shirts, towels, jackets, shorts, water bottles, you name it--and Lake Placid gear too--before the race, but if you want something that says "finisher" on it, you have to wait until afterward. Which is fine, because what would suck more than spending $150 on a "finisher" softshell and then not finishing? But it's also brutally clever marketing, because the unavailability breeds incredible demand. And believe you me, if you finish that race, you want everyone in the whole world to know it, and you will pay through the teeth. It's a total racket.
"Be there early," I was warned. "And don't drink coffee first, because you have to stand in line." So, tired as I was, I went over to the store right at 7:00 to see if I could pick up something cool. When I arrived, it was pouring rain and 55 degrees, and there were 200 people waiting to get in to the store. It was like the city's hottest nightclub: two people came out, two were let in. A daytime nightclub of misery and out-of-control capitalism.
I decided very quickly that there are limits to how much I am willing to suffer in order to give this company my money, and that my 14-hour-28-minute contribution the day before was sufficient. I decided my time was far better spent with my cousin Heather over a decent breakfast.
But I had some business to attend to first. Registration for 2015 started at 8 and would probably sell out by the end of the day. I really was conflicted. I talked to some friends and strangers, and the consensus was clear: "In two days you'll want to do it again."
Oh, shit.
So I did it, signed over another huge bundle of cash to the Ironman corp and started to consider how to improve my time next year. And my advisors were absolutely right--by Tuesday I was feeling ready to start planning my off-season training.
I hobbled around Lake Placid in kind of a blur for the day. Athletes all wore their finisher gear, but it wasn't necessary: everyone who had raced was walking around like C3Po from Star Wars. We all knew each other on sight. It was a big limping street party of felicitations.
I had an outstanding massage from Tim at Balanced Bodywork, then stopped at the Rite Aid for more epsom salts, where I saw the race on the cover of one of the local papers. I took a look and started to open it up to the inside, absently thinking, wouldn't it be funny to be in the paper in a strange town? I caught myself--don't be ridiculous. This article is about the people who won, not the middle aged women who came in 1672nd. I had lunch and was pulling in to the hotel lot when I got a text:
Hi, it's Tim from Balanced Bodywork. Hope you picked up the local paper with you on the cover!
It was in the other local paper. I zipped back to the Rite Aid, where I let out a squeal, showed everyone in line and the checkout guy and and bought an extra copy for my parents. I know I already posted this twice, so I am sorry, but it makes me giggle so hard I just--
(Uh, I am not the one on the right.)
I just loved the ride home with my finisher shirt on and my sexy bike on top of my car and my new 140.6 sticker on the back, and my medal hanging from the rear view mirror where I could pet it like Gollum and his ring. Myyyyy PRECIOUS! Been a long time since I achieved something I'm this proud of.
My body hurt like hell on Monday and Tuesday, but I soaked for 15 minutes in the Belfast Y's hot tub when I rolled into town on Tuesday night, and woke up on Wednesday morning with no pain. None. I literally felt better than I felt before the race. It's some kind of crazy miracle, right? These bodies of ours are so resilient. My gratitude keeps growing.
I do feel the effects of the calorie deficit and the nutrient deficit. My overall energy level is low. The first few days I was back, I woke up in the middle of the night and had to eat. My belly has just come back to normal. My fluids are all screwy--my feet swell like Grandma's during the day, my eyes puff up at night.
Yesterday was my first day of exercise, a short and easy bike ride. I felt like doing something earlier in the week, but I just could not get out of bed. Today I swam the length of the Rockland breakwater with friends and marveled at my good fortune--even though I'm a little tired, my body felt strong enough to swim almost 2 miles with ease (okay, yes, I've been in bed all afternoon since, but still.)
I'm still a big puddle about the whole thing. People outside the bike shop today noticed my shirt and treated me like a rock star. I shook their hands and burst into tears. The hero's welcome I received coming back into town has been absolutely wonderful and totally embarrassing.
I do feel proud of my accomplishment, and so incredibly grateful for my good health and for all the love I'm feeling from friends and strangers alike. But something is missing, a small part that feels unfulfilled...and people are asking what's next. I have a solution in mind that I'm putting the final touches on. If it interests you, then please stay tuned for the final report and what lies ahead.
And you guys? Thank you so much for reading this. I hope it makes you happy. You sure make me happy.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
I have loved your writing and hearing your phenomenal story! Thank you for sharing it! Hugs, always!
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