No point in
burying the lead: I did it!
In what was
without question one of the longest and hardest days of my life, I managed to
cross the finish line in Boulder and hear Mike Reilly call my name announcing
that I was an Ironman! The
satisfaction (as well as relief) I feel at having accomplished this is
difficult to put into words.
It was a long
journey leading up to a long weekend. The best place to start all of this is
probably at the start of that weekend.
Days Leading Up
Friday
I took Friday
off and began the day by getting a haircut so that I had comfortably short hair
for race day. The same man has been cutting my hair since I was fourteen so
that means trips up to my hometown of Greeley about every three or four weeks.
A lot of people find that absurd but I like his work and on some things, I am
loyal to a fault.
With that task
complete, it was about an hour to Boulder to park near Boulder High School and
walk over to the exposition area that is referred to by the organizers as
Ironman Village. In addition to vendors demonstrating their various wares, the
logistics of the race are there and it’s at this location where on checks in.
That process
was straight forward and I completed the requisite medical forms and releases
and within a few minutes was in possession of a very nice back-back and some
other swag as well as the things I would need for race day; timing chip, bib,
bike stickers and gear bag stickers. Somehow my swim cap didn’t get in the bag
but I was able to pick up a replacement the next day.
During the
process, I realized I had forgotten to attach my bento box to my bike and had
no practical way to carrying the nutrition I would need. As it happened, there
was a very extensive bike shop in a tent at the village selling everything
except actual bikes. I was able to get a very nice X-Lab box and solve that
problem. I had also forgotten to pack a pair of bike shorts to pull on over my
triathlon shorts during the ride but I decided to forgo that and just wear the
kit like everyone else.
The rest of the
day was just to get some food, relax, see a movie and get a decent night’s
sleep.
Saturday
I was up a
little after 7:30 Saturday morning to do an easy 30 minute run. My coach
typically puts this on the schedule the day before any race. The idea is
neuromuscular activation, not to go out and set any world records.
Since my hotel
was adjacent to part of the run course, I headed west to see some of it in
person. It was clear after reaching Eben G. Fine Park that there was going to
be at least one big hill leading to the west turn around. I was feeling fresh
and strong so climbing it on Saturday morning proved to be no problem. The run
was over soon enough and soon my wife and I were having a nice brunch at a place
across the street from our hotel.
Once the meal
was complete, it was time to start preparing in earnest. I had printed up
checklists for everything I needed to pack and step-by-step she and I went
through the items one by one until both the bike and run gear bags were ready.
The hotel we
had chosen is one of the nicer ones in town and even with the Ironman discount
it was expensive. However, it was incredibly convenient and the walk back to
the village and the run bag drop off was short.
I arrived just
in time for the 11:00 athlete briefing and sat through most of it before the
weather started showing signs of rain. They had gotten to the run portion of
the brief at that point and I knew that while there might be some surprises, I
did not expect anything major.
Dropping off my
bag at the track was much like last year. Volunteers had them all aligned in
sections grouped by bib number. The threat of rain overnight had prompted me to
put my shoes in their own plastic bag just to ensure that they and the socks tucked
inside them would stay dry. I also cinched the bag up fairly tight.
The next step
was to go back to the hotel, get my bike and load it up into the car for a
drive out to Boulder Reservoir. The weather was holding off for the moment, but
the clouds were thick and it really felt like we were going to see some
moisture at some point.
Parking was in
the main lot near the swim beach which meant a much shorter walk from there to
the bike racks which were my first stop. After a picture at the entrance (which
I’m sure is for insurance purposes) I found my spot and proceeded to rack in.
Ironman races
are known for their high level of service. The backpack I got at check-in is a
tangible example of this. The plethora of food and beverages along the course
and the generous meal voucher for $25 at several downtown restaurants are also
good examples. Unfortunately, the bike racks are cheap and largely inadequate.
My bike has a
stand-over height of slightly less than three feet. Factor in the seat post
height and the two bottles that go in back and it clears that height and then
some. Bottom line was that there was no way to hang my bike by the seat without
tipping it to the side first. While that’s no problem when there’s no bike on
one side, it can get pretty tricky when the rack is full. There are times when
a business, like WTC, needs to invest some money into capital improvements.
This is one of those times.
Since there’s
not much I could do about it, I just racked in and then covered my saddle with
a plastic laundry bag from the hotel. I saw others had covered their cranks and
handle bars but I was mostly concerned about keeping my but dry since I figured
the saddle had the greatest ability to absorb and hold water.
Normally, I
would be letting air out of my tires to prevent a tube burst that was the
result of the afternoon heat. However, on this afternoon it was barely breaking
70* and having checked a few tires around me, no one else was deflating theirs
either. I decided to keep them full which was around 110 to 115 psi.
Satisfied that
I had positioned everything correctly, I moved on to the bike gear bag drop-off
which sits just outside the change tents and very near the swim exit. Here
again, volunteers were making efforts to line the bags up in order. I got mine
situated and figured it was best to cinch the draw string tight to try and keep
moisture out.
I spent a
little time walking around the area and observed the buoys positioned way out
on the lake. But there was really nothing else to do out there and I didn’t
want to exert too much energy strolling around.
I headed back
into town, stopping off at a grocery store for my special needs nutrition and
then went back to the hotel to pack those bags.
We had an early
dinner with my brother and his wife and soon I was back to my room and ready to
call it a night. I was in bed by just after 8:00 and I think asleep by 9:30 or
so. I slept restlessly but I probably got a little over five hours which was
not bad.
Race Day
Pre-Race
I was kind of already
awake when my 3:00 am alarm went off. Despite the obscene hour of the day,
getting up was really no problem and I proceeded to consume my usual pre-race
meal of a bagel and cream cheese, a bottled smoothie, a banana and a cup of
coffee from the in-room machine. I then dressed and found that I still had
nearly an hour before I needed to head out the door.
My nerves were
starting to work-up a bit but I remained mostly calm as I thumbed through
social media on my tablet and willed the minutes to go by. They did and soon I
was kissing my wife goodbye and hauling my gear bags downstairs.
Not long after
dropping everything except my morning clothes bag, I hooked up with my brother
who had generously and graciously offered to come out to the reservoir with me
and hang out prior to the swim start. We soon boarded a Boulder County school
bus and were there in just a few minutes.
It was dry but
overcast and a bit foggy when we arrived. Of course, it was also still dark so
that did not matter. I noticed right away that the transition area was better
lit than it had been last year. Nevertheless, my headlamp was helpful as I set
about filling my bottles with water and Gatorade and otherwise preparing the
bike.
The seat cover
proved to be a good choice because it had indeed rained the previous evening
and while not bone-dry, at least it was not drenched either. Both tires were at
the right pressure and it looked like there would be enough room to tip to the
side when it came time to un-rack.
I was satisfied
with my set up and then went to check on the status of my bag. Everything
inside it was dry much to my relief and I knew I’d be ready to go. With that
done, all that was left was to wait.
My brother had
brought stadium seats for us to sit on which beats the asphalt parking lot. We
chilled while he made a couple of Facebook posts and in what seemed like really
no time at all, it was time for me to don my wetsuit and get going.
My energy
levels were up and I was feeling pretty anxious at this point. I had cut it close
enough that I was having to make my way through the crowd to get to the front
of the swim corrals but I finally got there with a few minutes to spare. It was
time to race.
SWIM
I waded in to
about waist deep and then took a big dive forward and was underway. This year’s
field was considerably smaller than last year’s and that made for less of a
washing machine. Indeed, for the first few minutes, I wasn’t really
encountering anybody and getting a nice steady rhythm proved to be no problem
at all.
However, after
I started to sight, I noticed that I had gone pretty far to the right of the
buoys and had to make my way back in. I can’t say why, but all through the
swim, I found myself pulling right. Nevertheless, I was feeling pretty good and
fatigue was never really a factor.
It’s a long way
to the first turn but it still felt like it came up fairly soon and I was
pleased to discover that the pushing and shoving match from last year was not
present. The buoys turn from yellow to orange about halfway through the back
stretch and I mistakenly thought the first of these was the turn. As I got
closer it was apparent no one was turning however and as I went by, I recalled
that the number on the side started over. I was not let down, though. As I
glanced at my watch, it showed about 35 minutes had passed so I knew I was on
target for my goal pace.
Another
uneventful left turn had me heading in and this section seemed to go by
quickly. The sky remained overcast but visibility was good and I could see the
various tents and finish arch. Not long after that, I could hear the PA system
announcing swimmers as they came out of the water.
When my hand
touched the bottom near the exit, I remembered that we were on a boat ramp
rather than a beach so I accepted the hand that was helping me out and moved
cautiously until I was on the carpeted runway and making my way to the change
tent. Volunteers stripped me out of my wetsuit quickly and then my number was
called out ahead and a volunteer handed me my bag.
Time: 1:09:19
T1
I was pleased
to find a change tent that was not crowded at all. Unlike last year when I was
wedged in between groups of naked men, I found a chair with no one around, sat
down and began the process of getting my bike gear on.
Because things
were less crowded, volunteers were able to offer individual attention and I had
a nice gentleman packing my suit in my bag as I pulled on shoes and helmet.
There was a table with water and I downed a glass before running out. My coach
was one of the volunteers in transition and I said hi on my way out. I think he
was surprised because as it would turn out, my time was far faster than
expected.
Sunscreen was
applied generously and then it was on to my bike. As I ran, I felt something in
my shoe and then realized that I had failed to apply chamois cream. This was no
time to be bashful so when I arrived at my bike, I opened the packet, applied
it to my hand and shoved my hand down my shorts and rubbed it on. Not
particularly polite behavior in most circumstances but this was not most circumstances.
Time: 0:07:53
BIKE
I jogged the
bike out of transition and got to the top of the hill and turned left instead
of right like last year. Once on the mount line I was rolling down a hill and
ready to start. I had to struggle a little bit to get my wife’s Scoshe to pair
with my Garmin but I figured it out after a few minutes.
It was still
overcast and fairly cool as we rode southwest on the diagonal highway and the
shoulder had been black-topped the day before making for pleasant riding. I had
some concerns about the under the highway but when I arrived traffic was light
and getting through was really no problem.
My initial plan
had been to stay in the small ring as I rode northeast in the direction of
Longmont figuring I would need to save some energy. However, the decline was
such that shifting up and pedaling just a little harder was really not taking a
toll and giving me some additional speed. I kept that up most of the way down
the stretch until reaching Highway 52.
That climb
really felt like nothing this year. I did not flat and it was not hot. There
were also very few people along this section and that’s where the lower overall
registration again showed itself. No complaints from me, though. After
cresting, I was able to cruise down to Highway 287 at around 30 MPH.
Climbing back
up on Lookout Road was not easy but neither was it devastating. I just kept
spinning my lowest gear and taking each section one at a time until being
rewarded with a fairly steep downhill to 75th Street. The sun had
come out of the cloud cover by now but the temperature remained mild. Going by
the spot where I dropped out last year gave me a bit of a psychological boost
and I felt good heading into the two big laps.
I was getting
dropped a lot on the initial sections and really didn’t mind. I was determined
to do my own, fairly conservative race and just make sure I left enough matches
in the book to complete the run. The section from Jay Road and 28th
Street all the way up until the right turn at Neva Road is one of the more
difficult on the course. The shoulder is tight, there can be high wind and
there’s a fair amount of climbing. I managed to stay focused and fairly
positive throughout and the reward is some speed as you head back east. Then
it’s a nice easy stretch all the way until 63rd Street. The rollers on that street were fine and I
continued to make good progress and anticipate the truly most challenging
section: the climb up Nelson Road.
While it’s said
that familiarity breeds contempt, in my case, it made that section seem a lot
shorter. Twice on last year’s ride and twice more on training rides this year
made me mostly familiar with the stretch. That’s not to say I went up it with
blazing speed—because I didn’t. However, I did see the distinct sections more
clearly and on the very brief downhill sections, I got to recover some.
Rolling north
on Highway 36 to its intersection with Highway 66 near the town of Lyons is the
most rewarding part of the course. With only minimal pedaling, I was still
making great time as I tucked into aero position and relaxed the legs. Things
got a little more difficult as I headed east on 66 end route to Hygiene but I
think that was just because I had gotten so used to the free speed. My Training
Peaks analysis says I managed to go almost 20MPH through this section while
only expending about 123 watts of power so it actually was going a little
better than planned.
I took my first
actual rest on St. Vrain Road and it was quick. A volunteer had cold water and
bananas so I ate one and washed it down with the water before using another
bottle to refill my torpedo. I was off in less than a minute and still feeling
good as I got into some of the flatter sections of the course.
I hit special
needs and only stayed long enough to collect a pouch of peanut butter cookies,
my extra nutrition and some Gatorade mix for my nutrition bottle. There was no
water there so I rode on to the next aid station and stopped again at the next
aid station where I filled my nutrition bottle with water.
I had been
doing a fairly good job of consuming a CLIF shot near the top of each hour and
taking several large drinks from my bottle at the bottom. I did not feel hungry
or week but as time went by, I did feel a little queasy. My guess is that all
of the sugar was just a bit too much for my system. The problem was relatively
minor, however and I kept going.
There’s no
denying that fatigue was starting to set in as I began the second and final lap
but the fact that I only had to run it one more time provided good motivation.
After clearing Jay Road, I once again made the climb up 28th Street
for Broadway where I knew relief would come in the form of a downhill.
As I neared
Broadway, I could see a police vehicle blocking the left turn lane but since it
was to the left, I didn’t think it was anything other than a minor traffic
accident. Then I started to cruise downhill and I saw several vehicles and it
was clear something was wrong. A volunteer was making the universal slow down
signal (both arms extended, palms down and waving arms at the ground) and I
heeded the warning. A brief glance to my right and I saw a couple of bikes on
the side of the road. That there was an accident was obvious, but I didn’t see
an ambulance or paramedic’s motorcycle so I had no idea how bad. What I learned
later was very upsetting.
For the time
being, I took it easy and stayed to the right of the shoulder. This is a tough
section of course because the paved shoulder drops off a couple of inches to
the unpaved side of the road. I’ve gone off it a couple of times in races and
it is disconcerting. I was trying to avoid that while also letting folks pass
me on the left.
Once again a
Neva Road, the cruising downhill was enjoyable and while just a little slower
than the first lap, I still felt good. I was also slower on 63rd
Street but not noticeably and the time was passing by fast. Sure I wanted off
the bike, but I wasn’t miserable and I’m not sure I could have said the same at
that point in the race a year earlier.
I made a stop
at the Nelson Road aid station and poured cold water on myself which felt great
if a bit shocking. That shock was what told me it was working. The day had not
become overly hot, but the sun was out and I was sweating a bit more than I had
at the start of the day.
As I headed
down the steeper section of US 36 back toward Lyons, I figured I could pour on
a bit more speed by shifting up into the big ring. I was completely spun out in
the small ring and figured since I still felt reasonably well, this would be a
good spot. Then my chain dropped.
It’s
frustrating after two tune ups and a couple hundred dollars spent that a shop
can’t adjust the front derailleur so that it doesn’t happen but it did and I
found myself on the side of the road putting the chain back on. Fortunately,
that was easy and soon I was rolling again, albeit with much less momentum.
The flatter
roll along Highway 66 to 75th Street did not seem as bad this time
and part of that may have been that I was looking at hitting the 90-mile mark.
That’s not really where you see the barn but it does mean a fairly short and
not overly difficult portion remains.
I had planned
on making a second stop at the St. Vrain aid station again but went through
before I could determine whether or not there was cold water available. Turns
out it was, but I was already cruising away and I figured I could just hit the
next station at 63rd Street and the Diagonal Highway.
That’s what I
did once again dousing myself with the chilly liquid including my face this
time and feeling better for it. I had not passed the 100-mile mark which was
symbolically important in that it was further than I made it last year.
The sick feeling
was persisting a little bit but I was also absolutely determined to get off the
bike and onto the run. There’s no cycling equivalent of walking. If you are
going up a big hill, you have to push down on the pedals and go. Once on foot,
I knew I could ease the pace regardless of terrain.
As I approached
the intersection of Jay Road and 28th Street for the last time, I
saw my brother and two of his in-laws who had all come out to cheer me. I would
have done this race if not a soul in the world knew about it, but it was
terrific to see them there and I was feeling like I was having a good ride.
The roll down
Folsom Street to the finish was even easier than I imagined it might be. The
one hill at Valmont Road was really nothing more than a bump and after that I
just kept cruising right up to the finish.
Time: 6:36:25
T2
I’m usually
pretty good about getting of the bike and jogging it in, but when I saw others
around me walking in, it kind of made sense. Sure, I could save a minute or two
but it was hot and I was tired.
I walked at a
moderate pace until crossing the pedestrian bridge before entering the football
stadium. I had the presence of mind to get what I needed off the bike (sodium
tablets and my Garmin) and then let the catcher take it away.
Getting my bag
from the track was easy but now I was really feeling the warmth of the
afternoon. I didn’t worry about it but I knew it could be a factor later on. I
continued on to the tent. It’s a long transition at nearly a quarter mile from
dismount to the tent.
Once inside the
tent, I was again pleased to see it mostly empty and found a chair right away.
Changing out items was easy and I found myself on my way in short order, albeit
with a stop at the porta-potties to relive some of the copious amounts of water
I had been drinking on the bike.
Sun screen
reapplied, I looked down the start to the run, hit the lap button on my Garmin
and began the last, long stage of the event.
RUN
I had switched
from my wife’s Scoshe to my own in T2 and I decided to wait until my first walk
break to pair it with my Garmin. As I had planned, I ran for five minutes at a
fairly easy pace and was under no illusions about setting any marathon PR’s.
Pairing the HR
monitor with the watch took a bit longer than I expected and the scheduled one-minute
walk break actually took ninety seconds. I felt okay about that and after
another five minutes, I took 1 ½ minutes again.
All of the
water was giving me a bit of an abdominal cramp right below the center of my
rib cage. It wasn’t debilitating but it did hurt. I was also still feeling a
bit queasy still. I think I may never be able to consume another CLIF shot
again!
After about
five of the intervals, I was feeling especially tired. My HR was not especially
high, but I felt gassed and my legs were complaining. I did one more section
near the turnaround at Baseline Road and the Foothills Parkway and then took an
extended walk break. It was clear that my running race plan was going to have
to be changed on the fly.
For roughly the
next half hour, I walked at my best possible pace (around 15:35 per mile) and
let the cramps subside and my stomach settled down a bit. I was taking water
but nothing else sounded good so I avoided it.
There’s an aid
station near the northeastern turn around and not long after passing it, I
managed to talk myself back into running some more. I had initially thought
about just going a minute at a time but I felt strong enough to make it two
minutes. Then I walked for five. Part of me wondered if I was being too
conservative, but a bigger part said that finishing the race was all that
mattered.
As the course
approached the underpass at 55th Street, I was anticipating a
turnaround, but the course made a sharp left and paralleled the street. It made
sense. Unlike the first two years of this race when the finish was near the
Pearl Street Mall, they had moved it south this year to avoid closing the busy
streets of Canyon and Walnut. The distance had to be made up somewhere so this
little stretch was it. It may have felt psychologically worse than it was.
As I approached
the turnaround, my brother was there to cheer me on. After returning from the
swim venue, he had seen me on the bike and now I was seeing him for the first
of several times during the run.
I was just
hitting a walk break so he walked along side to see how I was doing and give me
encouragement. I let him know about some of the difficulty I was having but
also that I still felt okay.
He caught me
again when I passed back by the aid station and he suggested that if my stomach
was still upset, I should try having a cola. That made sense and I made a
mental note to look for it.
Ted also told
me that our wives were a few miles ahead which I knew meant near the high
school which not the true center of the course but is its main focal point. I
continued my progression of running for two minutes and walking for five and
while I was not exactly setting the course on fire, I did find it sustainable
and faster than 100% walking. When I found an aid station with cola, it wasn’t
flat so I took but a sip and then dumped it.
There were only
a few empty sections of the run course though they became more plentiful as the
day went on and became a night. I struggled on with my 2 minute run, 5 minute
walk pace until I was at roughly mile 16. I took a longer walk break and the
decided it was best to change to one minute runs and keep the same walk
interval. I knew it was going to be a slow run and that I was probably going to
miss my soft goal of a fourteen hour race, but I was more concerned with
finishing than anything else.
I had seen
others going by the wayside and I wanted to keep moving, even if it was only at
walking pace. Several others around me seemed to have the same idea.
Truthfully, it was more about mental discipline at this point. My legs ached,
my heartrate shot up into the 90’s even when walking and I was hot. But I was
not discouraged. I knew that the challenge of finishing would be difficult, but
with each step, I felt better.
Around mile 23
I encountered my coach who asked how I was doing and encouraged me to keep
going. I knew he had been in the same situation himself and he was keenly aware
of how difficult things get at this point.
As I climbed up
into the canyon for the last time, I was astonished by how warm it was. The sun
was down and I was walking along a swift creek that had been snow melt not long
before yet the wind coming at me was not just warm but hot! It was crazy but I
shook it off.
Going around
the last turnaround was a huge relief. I had all but given up on running at
this point but I was able to make a decent walking pace and was relishing the
thought of being done.
Coming back
under Broadway my coach was still there and told me I had to jog the finish. I
was too tired to argue so I gently picked up the pace and only walked up the
steep slope you encounter after you go under Arapahoe Avenue. Now making a
right turn like a freeway onramp, I was in the chute and I knew when I made the
final turn, I would see the finish line.
I could hear
Mike Reilly making his finishing announcements and I could see bright lights
framed by the black finish arch. I was not going fast, but I was going to be an
Ironman.
It was noisy
but through the din I heard it:
“Paul Johnson,
Parker Colorado, you are an Ironman”
Time: 6:14:26
Total Time: 14:18:31
Post-Race and Some Observations
My coach was
the first person to greet me in the finish area. After introducing him to my
family, I made my way out of the area away from some of the heat and toward
some refreshment. A volunteer asked me if I needed any medical attention and I
politely but emphatically declined. If I never enter another medical tent, it
will be too soon.
Ted met me just
outside the finisher area and I sat down on one of the benches that faces the
giant band shell in Boulder’s Central Park. Soon the rest of the family joined
me and after finishing the coke I had been drinking, we headed over to Reuben’s
for a late meal.
It was a long
walk back to get my bike and gear bags from the stadium, but I really didn’t
mind and soon my wife and I were back at the hotel where I took a much needed
shower and did my best to scrape away the hours of sweat, salt, sunscreen and
who knows what else that had accumulated. My legs hurt and I had profound
saddle sores but I was still in good spirits. Although poor sleep can be a risk
after these races, I actually slept pretty soundly.
I learned at
this point the bike crash aftermath I had seen had been fatal. A young woman named
Michelle Walters from McCook, Nebraska had been hit by a vehicle. I’ve since
heard she may have veered out of the shoulder on a section where I warned in
this very blog that things can get dicey. I am absolutely heartbroken at the
news and feel terrible for her friends and family. My day was one of
celebration while theirs was…well I just can’t find the words. I don’t know who
was at fault and I really don’t care. I’m just sorry it happened and I hope it’s
the last time we hear of such a thing even though I know it won’t be.
Like all USAT
sanctioned events, an Ironman is a non-drafting race. I understand and agree
with that. However, the distance has gone from three bike lengths a few years
ago to four and now to six. Short of Andre the Giant riding ahead of me, I’m
not at all clear how I am getting any kind of a wind shadow from that far back.
As we climbed
up Highway 52, an official’s motorcycle was clocking people to see if they were
drafting. My own pace up this section was under 10 MPH. No one is getting any
drafting benefits here. I think Ironman needs to revisit this rule, especially
as it is applied to those of us in the middle and back of the pack.
The Boulder
Creek path is a public, multi-use path. It is not closed to public access
during the race and I think some folks out there had a genuine need to be on
it. I’m not a parent, but if I were, I think Ironman Sunday is an absolutely
horrible day to take your young child on a bike ride along it. Other folks just
walking along or bringing their tubes up to the top of the creek seemed less
intrusive.
In spite of all
of my gripes, however, I have to say that an Ironman branded race is a good
one. That’s not to say that I don’t have a few problems with some of the ways
they conduct business (equal numbers of professional men and women to Kona is a
major one) but from an age-group athlete perspective, it’s a good race.
For the tragedy
that happened, I hope some smart people can figure out a way to make the course
safer. I really don’t know how you avoid U.S. 36 as it makes its way out of
town. It might be advisable to send the traffic up Olde Stage Road and down
Lefthand Canyon at least for the portion that is headed north. It might mean
metering the traffic the way it is when you get on a freeway during rush hour.
Truthfully, I don’t know.
I don’t want to
end this post on a down note however. I am proud that I can now call myself an
Ironman. I am grateful to everyone that helped me along. That means my coach
and his diligence to get me ready for this, my brother for his moral support
and encouragement, my wife for her patience, for every stranger that read my
name off my bib and cheered me on, to all of the distant friends and family
that gave me encouragement on Facebook even though I was not aware of it at the
time.
Two days after
the event, I’m still very stiff and sore. My left big toe is a shade of light
purple that does not look normal and I have two big red arcs where I sunscreen
did not get fully applied and I’m still happy about it all.
Thanks for
reading about this race and about everything that happened on the journey.
The quest for
an Ironman finish is complete, but the blog will continue!
