The Recovery Is Kind Of A Big Deal.

Someone I love just told me that she is pregnant.  I am so happy for her.  As we talked she asked questions like, "what's been the hardest part about having a baby?"  I told her, "the emotional recovery" and described how that 'time of the month' you just feel kinda 'off'.  Take that and times it by 50.  Then I talked about some of the joys because I felt the need to balance out that comment with some of the good stuff....because there's sure a lot of good stuff too.  I think it's hard to know how much to talk about the hard parts.  I mean really, I don't want to freak anyone out, make them feel afraid of having kids.

What I really thought about answering to her question was, "well, it's actually going to rock your freaking world."  But I didn't know if that would be terribly helpful.

A couple years ago a friend asked me,  "which one is harder, having a baby or doing an ironman?"  I thought about that question here and there while I was pregnant, still not sure what the answer to that was.  Now I have my answer, "the ironman was harder but the recovery is harder from having a baby."  

Keep in mind, that I am comparing a 16 hour ironman where I got extremely sick on the marathon and finished much slower than hoped to an uncomplicated labour that progressed beautifully and was full of support and joy, resulting in a healthy baby and momma.  Certainly every ironman is not harder than every labour and delivery.  This is just my experience.

My little Ivy Grace was born at 11:25 in my bath tub.  A planned home birth.  It was better than I ever imagined a home birth would be.  I had been resistant to the idea of a home birth for the first half of my pregnancy but my views shifted when we spent a day in the hospital around Christmas time for Kyla to have ear surgery.  I realized that I didn't really like hospitals after all.  Certainly they serve an important purpose but I was confident that my birth would go well and felt that a hospital wasn't necessary for me and my baby.
The birth did go incredibly well.  So has the recovery but it's a major ordeal to recover from having a baby.  As I've shared bits and pieces of my recovery with other women, some of them have been surprised and maybe even comforted to know that they aren't the only one who finds this stage hard.  So that got me thinking that I wanted to write a post about the recovery...

There I lay at 3 am on Feb 28th, in a maxi pad that might as well be called a diaper, pondering on the incredible events of the past 16 hours.  It was hard to believe that now I had a baby in my house.  My baby.  That I had finally delivered her. That I was no longer pregnant.  An incredible cocktail of relief, joy, awe and love mixed in with some nervousness about the next stage of life to come.

I remembered reading that newborns usually get a really long stretch of sleep after the delivery.  That it was important for mom to sleep during this time, to also recover.  But I felt like I had just come off of one of the most incredible experiences of my life. An endorphin high.  My uterus was cramping, my back was aching, my bottom was tender, my hormones were undergoing a major shift and I had just met my little baby girl, my daughter.  How on earth was I supposed to just relax and go to sleep?  I knew I was going to need time to heal, recover and adjust to this new stage of life.

It's been quite a ride so far.  Having a baby and caring for a baby is an extremely spiritual experience for me.  Heaven feels closer, God feels closer, angels seem to be watching over me and my little girl.  It's a time filled with simple sweetness.  I love those moments of feeding and snuggling my little baby.  I love how life seems to just slow down.  There are funny moments too, like at dinner when Riley points to me and says, "mom, your breasts are leaking."

There are also hard moments.  Like last night at 2:15 when Ivy woke up crying.  I had been up until midnight, crying and talking to Adam. At times, I cry for no reason, but this time I cried because it was only a few days until Adam went back to work and I felt nervous about 'doing it all alone.'  I also felt this deep ache to be taken care of.  To be held by someone, looked after.  Strange the things we crave emotionally after having babies, isn't it?  The care of my midwives had been so amazing.  I ached for more of that care, as I gave so much in caring for my baby.  I pictured myself laying on the couch, being held by my midwife and that image brought me to tears.  Then for the first time since Ivy had been born, she threw us a curve ball and every time we set her down, she woke up crying 15 min later.  We racked our brains, "was it the lasagna I ate bothering her tummy, is she growing, is it gas....".  Finally at 5:30 she went to sleep for reals.  Had to reach deeper into my reserves of patience and optimism to get through that night.

This raw emotion has washed over me many times since delivery.  Sometimes coming without warning and sometimes for no apparent reason, other than a strong feeling that I just need to cry and let it all out.  Apparently day 3 is a common day for strong emotions.  It sure was for me.  I sat on my couch, feeding Ivy, while my family was at church and the tears flowed.  This time, it had a lot to do with feeling so loved.  It spoke to the deep ache I felt.  The ache to be cared for.  I kept thinking about how one of the midwives was coming soon to visit and that I should really pull myself together so I wasn't a blubbering mess when she arrived.  But then I thought of her womanly care.  Full of compassion and wisdom and the tears would roll again.  I managed to stop the tears when she arrived but partway through the visit, they flowed again.  She was kind and understanding, not judgemental.  "Crying is a right of passage on the day three visit", she said.  "We are surprised if a mom doesn't cry when we visit on day three."

"I know this is normal for me", I explained.  "I remember this raw emotion after having my last two."

I have a good friend who checks in with me every day. On day three, I started dialing her number and cried as soon as I pressed the buttons.  After hearing my tears she responded, "it's one of those days, isn't it?"  I was crying because I knew she would love me, wouldn't judge.  Also, wouldn't worry about me.  Because she knows, as well as I know, that this will pass for me.  I've never had post partum depression but I certainly get the baby blues.

Another interesting part of the recovery has been the need to process my labour and delivery.  I have replayed it over and over in my head.  Sorting it through.  Longing to experience some of the amazing parts again.  Basking in the love and support I felt through it all. Feeling so proud of how I embraced and managed it. Coming down off a euphoric high and trying to find peace with the experience and move forward.

Having an "audience" to my birth was something new for me.  I loved the support of my mom, mother in law and especially the midwives but I was used to just having Adam as my support in the past and I felt somewhat vulnerable about how they perceived my "performance".  I know it's not a performance and I know I had nothing to prove but I still felt this need to be told by everyone that I had done a good job.  That I had coped well and maybe even impressed them.  Silly desire, but there it was anyways.  I thought this through and came to realize that I only needed to seek affirmations from myself and from God.  That their perception of the experience was not so important and I didn't need to crave their praise.  I also felt this need to connect with my caregiver.  My midwife had been amazing, especially in the final moments of pushing.  I suppose she had become a hero to me in those moments.  So I wrote her a letter, called it my 'creepy love letter' and she was kind and loving in reading it.  I remember after having Riley, going back to the hospital to see the nurse who had attended my birth.  I thought she would be thrilled to see us, that I had made such a lasting impression on her with my natural child birth, which she had said she rarely saw in the hospital anymore.  Not so.  It was a hilarious and awkward experience, as she pretended to know who we were and we pretended it was no biggie.

I know as I heal physically, I will also heal emotionally.  Engorged breasts, tender cracking nipples, blood flow, cramping uterus, aching back, as well as a host of unseen adjustments that my brain oversees, as hormones, organs and cells all heal from the pregnancy and adjust back to "normal".  These changes and adjustments take time.  I am more patient with this healing process, as a mom of three.  It's still hard but I have more maturity and patience with the process.  I respect it and understand that I am normal, that these challenges are normal, that it won't be like this forever, that it's ok if at moments I feel overwhelmed, overtired, and emotional.  These are steps and stages of healing.

To all moms reading this, you are amazing for what you do to bring life into the world.  
Ivy Grace Layton, I do this all for you.  I love you.  I am honored to be your mother.

Six year old maternity clothes should be burned.

Ok so I'm 22 weeks pregnant now and I FINALLY decided to go through my old maternity clothes.  I've had these boxes stowed away in a closet for a long time.  Over six years to be exact.

You may wonder, what have I been wearing all this time? 

Well, I have bought some new clothes, specifically skirts and dresses but I haven't bought any shirts or pants yet.  I have a lot of long shirts, so I've just been stretching those out.  I'm totally fine with letting them get stretched out and "wrecked" because then I can throw them away after and buy new clothes.  In terms of pants, I'm down now to black sweat pants and black leggings.  I tried on all my pairs of jeans one morning last week before I went out to volunteer in my daughter's class and not a single pair fit.  No, it wasn't fun trying them all on, in case you were wondering.  

So last night I finally bit the bullet and pulled out those boxes.  It was worse than I expected....much, much worse.  Keep in mind that I was a poor student back in my previous pregnancies and I think some of the clothes I wore had even been handed down to me when I was pregnant with Riley, making them like 10 years old.  It felt like such a time warp.  A tragic time warp into maternity nightmares.  Adam laid on our bed reading a book while I groaned, moaned and sometimes laughed as I sorted through the clothing.  At the end of the experience, I laid down feeling tired and annoyed with my lack of clothing options for the next 4 months.  It's just so hard to spend money on clothes I'm only going to wear for such a short period of time.  He said something like, "Kim, pregnancy is hard enough with the changes to your body,  Don't make it harder on yourself by wearing clothes that you feel ugly in.  Spend some money and buy yourself some clothes you like.  Just donate the rest."  

Ok so before I donate these beauties, I thought I would share a few of them for your enjoyment.
I tried to really show off the two-toned tummy pouch and I think you'll also appreciate my modeling skills.

I Choose To Be A Mother.

Two years ago I was training for Ironman Cozumel with Adam.  We spent an of average of about 15 hours/week training.  In crash weeks we were training upwards of 26 hours/week.  It was very demanding and fulfilling at the same time and required a lot of planning and teamwork for me and Adam.  After the race, we were both on this athletic high.  The experience had been beyond incredible. We were so eager to keep the dream alive so to speak and signed up for two half ironmans, one in Hawaii and one in Miami.  We ended up making the heart wrenching decision to forfeit our Miami registration because the race fell on a Sunday, which is a sacred day of rest in our religion.  We did race in Hawaii and had an incredible experience.

On the one hand, it seemed that we had come upon an incredible lifestyle.  Training, travelling and racing held such appeal.  We were both getting faster and faster.  Adam often mentioned how great it would be to get our pro card.  We were at a bit of a cross roads.  I felt like I had been a good mom through all this training and racing.  I mean, how does anyone really define what a "good mom" is.  It's so subjective but I felt in my heart that I had been giving my mothering enough time and attention for my kids to thrive....I just wasn't sure I could keep doing that going forward, if I pursued triathlon even more.  At this new stage, I wondered if a shift was required for our family.

Please keep in mind as you read this, that these are my own personal musings and in no way reflect what is right and good for each and every family.  We are all so different and we all have our own choices to make and our own roads to travel.

Two roads seemed to stretch out in front of me.  Both held their own unique appeal.  On the one road, I could continue to pursue triathlon to see how far I could take it.  With my kids growing older and in school full time, I would have plenty of time for training.  I foresaw on this road a lean body, amazing experiences travelling and competing with Adam, medals, building of character through training and competition.  But I also saw myself feeling a strain and pull on my energy and focus between mothering and triathlon.  Even if I got my training in while my kids were in school, I knew that the emotional and physical demands of the training would effect my mothering.  I know that some women pull off being a mother and an elite athlete but I know my limits and I know for myself that although excelling in sport would provide some inspiration to my children, it would also have a cost.

On the other road, I saw us continuing to try for a third baby.  Whether or not I actually got pregnant, I saw myself being devoted even more fully to being a mother.  Not just making it something I did out of duty but something I gave more of myself to.  Not a side job but my main job and focus in life.  When I looked down this road, I looked further into the future.  I saw myself when I was eighty years old.  Sitting in a chair with my husband next to me, talking about our lives....reminiscing.  I imagined us talking about our children.  Discussing the ups and downs, the funny moments, the sacrifices and most of all, the people they had become.  I felt a taste of that joy.  The joy of raising a child into an adult.  Of giving them such a huge piece of myself through time and sacrifice and seeing those things blossom.

I wanted that more than I wanted the medals.

I still do.

So, I chose anew to be a mother.  I had made this choice before and I imagine I'll make it again.

I love my kids, I always have.  Triathlon, sport and fitness have been a part of my life for many years and I hope they will continue to be for many more years.  I have no regrets with the races that Adam and I have been able to participate in.  I treasure those experiences deeply.  They are a part of who I am now.  I hope that the character development from Ironman will help me to be an even better person and to have a greater influence on the people in my life, including my children.

I plan to earn more medals to hang on my wall in the future and hope that I can strike that delicate balance between being the mother I want to be and pursuing those things in life that bring me joy and help me to be a better person.  It's not easy but I'm going to try.

Life Lessons From The Pool.

Today at swim club we did time trials.  This is my first time starting off the swim block in a timed event.  It's also my first time being timed at short distances (I'm used to longer distance swims in triathlons.)

On our last 50 m, my dad asked to move up into my heat, so that he could race against me.  He had that "Harding gleam" in his eye, excited for some family competition.  He dived out in front of me off the blocks but I made sure to beat him.  Our coach seemed to find our banter funny, as she was giggling when we finished up.  Beyond the friendly competition, I had some "aha" moments.

The pictures have little to nothing to do with my points...

 When I get tired, it's harder to keep good technique.  I often revert to old habits.
Those old habits are buried underneath layers of all the new things I've learned and as I get tired, the layers start to peel away.  I start entering the water across my body, it gets hard to keep my elbow high and I don't glide as much with each pull.  Basically I start swimming how I used to swim  In life when I either try to do too much or don't get enough sleep, my life skills revert and get ugly too.  I sometimes see this in friends as well, who with good intentions, want to give their children lots of good skills and experiences but get too busy and stressed in the process.

Do it for as long as you can do it well, then take a break and come back to it refreshed.

I used to only do long sets in the pool.  In Ironman training, I would often swim 3,000 km straight sets.  This meant that I was swimming about 400 m with good technique and 2,600 m with progressively sloppier technique.  In swim club, we do smaller sets and switch up the strokes.  For example today the main set was 4 x 200 IM (2 x 50 drill, 50 kick, 50 swim).  It is a shorter, more focused effort on a specific skill and then you switch to something else before you get tired and sloppy.  This principle of variety and shorter focused effort applies to life.  In fact, that is how I like to clean.  I don't like to clean for long periods of time. I like to do it in shorter "bursts" here and there.

Best to learn it right the first time.  Bad habits are hard to break...but they can be broken, there is hope.
I LOVE the dolphin kick.  It's seriously so fun!  I've never tried it before and I'm glad I haven't because I came to it with a clean slate.  My coach showed me the proper motion on the first day of swim club.  (Originates in the core, really roll the hips down to the toes in a fluid motion.)  I picked it up quickly.  One reason for this is I had no bad habits to break.  In fact, I'm progressing quickly in the breast and fly for the same reason.  Freestyle is a lot harder because my stroke is so ingrained in me.  It's like someone trying to teach you to walk differently, when you've been walking a certain way for years.  Not easy.  But not impossible either.  I am learning and changing, teaching my brain and body new habits.  I felt this principle in our first year of marriage.  I felt that the habits that Adam and I set that year were going to be important.  We had a clean slate back then.  Fortunately in life and in swimming, there is still hope to break bad habits, it's just harder than setting them right the first time.

To be fast in the water, you need to be relaxed and take advantage of the glide and recovery.  
Sometimes I forget that and I think that if I give more effort, I'll go faster.  Only effective effort makes you faster.  Slugging it out like a panicked, drowning person isn't fast and it isn't effective.  I know this because in the races where I'm calm and relaxed and smooth, I always have a faster time.  Whereas when I start forcing it and stroking too fast, I tire and end up being slower because of sloppy effort.  Trouble is, I keep forgetting this principle.  Like this morning in the pool, I wanted to be fast and forgot to be smooth and relaxed.  In life, I am at my best when my efforts are used at things that help me move closer to my goals and when I take advantage of the "recovery" phases.  In my life, this looks like making sure I have some "down time" each day so that when I need to be on, I'm on.

Improvement comes little by little...sometimes it feels so meticulous it's ridiculous!
 I catch myself doubting these little improvements.  Like when my coach says, "roll a little more in the water", I think sometimes, "can a little more roll really make a difference?"  It takes a certain amount of trust too, to believe that small changes here and there will really add up.  I sometimes think, "oh, the way I'm doing it has gotten me this far, no need to change."  But that's not the way to improvement.  I need to let go of old ways and trust in higher wisdom.
I only improve as a swimmer, when I'm willing to make these LITTLE CHANGES.

Some things I've learned about beauty.

This morning as I showered at the gym I cried.  I cried because I felt so sad for all the women who struggle with accepting and also caring for their bodies.  I cried for the woman who wants to be healthy but doesn’t know how, I cried for the woman who feels embarrassed/discouraged about her body, I cried for all the women I know who struggle with their bodies.  I know what it feels like to struggle.  You might be thinking, “oh sure, you’re an ironman or you’re tall and slim, you have no idea what the struggle feels like.”  But I do.  I’ve felt the struggle deeply, at times, and then chosen to change. I have felt times of deep frustration and discouragement about my body and then time and time again I try to choose to be healthy and beautiful in the way I know best.  Along the way I have learned some things that I wanted to share. 

When all you see is the external appearance, it’s easy to judge, assume things and feel either superior or inferior.  When you give someone the benefit of the doubt and get to know them, all those prideful assumptions start to melt away.

I’ve learned this lesson time and time again throughout my life.  Recently I met someone who is a walking resemblance of Barbie.  Seriously, I’ve never seen a closer resemblance to Barbie in a real human being.  I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed that she was kind and good and real and because of this, I now have a good friend.  I never would have become friends with her if I would have let my assumptions put a barrier between us.

This is the main reason I wanted to have the women from the photo shoot share a bit of themselves with you.  It reminds all of us that there is more to a person than what you see at first glance. I sometimes have a wave a jealousy, when I see a beautiful woman.  It has helped me so much to remember that they are real people with a story to tell.

Our beauty is not relative, it is inherent and completely our own.

When I saw the first pictures from the photo shoot of all the women, I felt critical of myself (funny looking nose, looks a bit cross eyed, hair looks kind of weird etc).  I also felt like the other women looked gorgeous, which intensified my own feelings.  For some reason, I just really started comparing myself to the other women, as if my own beauty was only valid relative to the beauty of others.  Of course this isn’t true.  I am beautiful because I am a beloved daughter of God, created in His image and loved by Him.  You are beautiful for the same reason.

What we sometimes view as our physical imperfections, can actually be part of our own unique beauty. 

I expressed to Liz (the amazing photographer) that in one of the close up pictures, I didn’t really like my big smile because I was showing too much of my gums.  Liz responded with this, “you might see ‘too much gums’ but I see ‘happy Kim’.  I can hear your laugh when I look at that picture, and that makes me smile!”  Perhaps when I am being critical about something in my body, I am criticizing the very thing that others might love about me. 

True beauty has more to do with who you are, than what you look like.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in person is Julie B Beck (a female leader in my church).  I listened to her speak and felt like I was in the presence of a queen.  She was regal, elegant, confident, radiant and her smile was full of warmth, experience and had something of divinity.  I was enthralled and came home and wrote in my journal that I wanted to have THAT kind of beauty someday. 

This quote is from one of my favorite talks on the body called, “Sanctity of the Body” by Susan Tanner. 

“I am troubled by the practice of extreme makeovers. Happiness comes from accepting the bodies we have been given as divine gifts and enhancing our natural attributes, not from remaking our bodies after the image of the world. The Lord wants us to be made over—but in His image, not in the image of the world, by receiving His image in our countenances.” 

Our bodies are instruments, not ornaments.

Our bodies are gifts from Him, to be used for His purposes.  About 10 years ago I decided that I wanted to use my full life on earth to do God’s will.  I knew I would be capable of doing so much more if I took care of my body from a young age.  This motivation has stuck with me since then.  I want to be healthy so that I can do more good in the world throughout my life.  (see 1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

The weigh scale is a tool.  It should only be used if it helps you to be healthier.

What a strange obsession our culture has with humans weighing ourselves.  What are we, livestock ready to be butchered, that we need to know our weight?  It’s a little ridiculous I think.  I do think the weigh scale can be a helpful tool but only if it helps you to make healthier choices in your life.  If it just leaves you feeling confused, discouraged, desperate or having unhealthy behaviors like extreme dieting, than I think you should just set aside the weigh scale and focus on getting healthier.  You don’t HAVE to know how much you weigh.  In fact, I have a good friend who set aside the weigh scale for her whole pregnancy and even asked her midwives not to weigh her.  She felt better emotionally as she did that and I was so proud of her.

Becoming healthier, stronger, lighter, leaner, faster, and fitter feels AMAZING!

This process is not just for an ‘elite’ group, it’s for everyone.  I love my job (as a personal trainer).  My favorite part is helping people discover their “inner athlete”.  Most people feel nervous when they start exercising but then I see this confidence and joy in their eyes as they realize that they can do more than they thought they could.  Each week they get stronger and healthier and I feel so proud of them.

Being skinny can mean you are healthy but not necessarily.

I feel strongly that in the quest for being “skinny” or “weighing less”, we can lose sight of being “healthy”.   I feel so much more peace when I make being healthy my number one physical priority.  I believe that God wants his beloved daughters to learn how to care for the bodies that He has blessed us with.  We will become so much more in this process of learning to care for our physical bodies, than we would if we look for quick fixes.  Caring for our physical bodies is, in part, about building character.  It’s not just about the external results.  It’s about who you are becoming in the process of being healthy.

Our bodies are amazing.

We are created by God Himself and our bodies are incredible.  I take so much joy in exploring what my body is capable of doing.  It’s the most incredible machine in the world.  I love the feeling of movement, strength, power, flexibility, balance, coordination and speed.  I love that I was able to train my body to complete an Ironman.  I love that my body bore children.  I am grateful for this body God has given me.

Yesterday at the gym I was stretching my hamstring and had one of my legs up in the air, as I lay on my back.  I looked at that leg and was overcome with gratitude for what it had done for me.  My leg had pushed a pedal for 7 hours in my ironman to carry me across 180 km on my bike, followed by a difficult marathon.  I was teary and tenderly touched my leg and expressed gratitude for it.  Then, so as not to play favorites, I did the same with my other leg J.

If you are waiting until your body is perfect to feel beautiful, then you’ll never feel beautiful. 

I think this can be particularly true for mothers, whose bodies undergo a lot of changes through pregnancy and nursing.  I try to view my pregnancy “scars” as marks of the miraculous privilege I have had of bearing children.  I am so grateful to be a mother and it is worth every varicose vein, stretch mark and other impacts it has had on my body.  I hope that these “marks” can somehow add to my beauty, as I see them and am reminded that I am a mother.

Also, I think if we are overly focused on external proof that we are of worth and value, we may lose sight of our true selves!

Acceptance is a step towards positive change.

I have come to believe that in order to change our selves, we first need to accept where we’re at.  That doesn’t mean we love everything about our bodies but it does mean that we love our selves as people and recognize our worth, goodness and beauty, even if it is buried underneath a few layers of fat.  I have seen people change their bodies without ever accepting themselves but it can be an ugly process, accomplished in unhealthy ways.  Health is not a “fair fight”.  We have each been given different genetics, habits and information.  It is left to each one of us to do the best we can with what we've been given.

Elder Holland gave a great talk called “To Young Women”, that addresses this idea of accepting our selves.

I plead with you young women to please be more accepting of yourselves, including your body shape and style, with a little less longing to look like someone else. We are all different. Some are tall, and some are short. Some are round, and some are thin. And almost everyone at some time or other wants to be something they are not! …We should all be as fit as we can be… That means eating right and exercising and helping our bodies function at their optimum strength. We could probably all do better in that regard. But I speak here of optimum health; there is no universal optimum size.

If you admire something about someone else, you can choose to go out there and get it for yourself.

There are limits to what each body is capable of doing or looking like but perhaps your body has less limits than you think.  I believe myself to have very few limits on what I can do with my body.  Doing an Ironman last year proved that to be true.  What false limits might you be placing on yourself??

If you want to set a goal, I encourage you to involve God in your process.  He will help you to refine that goal (if needed), strengthen you, guide you, comfort you and find joy in your journey.  I have experienced that.

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE GOD MADE YOU AND HE LOVES YOU VERY MUCH!!!

My Ironman Story....

THE DAYS LEADING UP

Travel to Cozumel went well considering we had to transport two big bike boxes, one big piece of luggage and three carry-on pieces on: a flight to Cancun, shuttle to the port, long walk to the port, ferry to Cozumel and taxi to our hotel.  The only hiccup was waiting while the ferry operators tried to figure out where they were going to store about 80 bike boxes.  They eventually decided that they  would have us each carry our bike boxes down to the ground level (extremely awkward to accomplish).  As I watched the other athletes efficiently and athletically move, store and then remove these numerous bike boxes I realized that we were in good company.  Preparing for an Ironman means leading a life of trained efficiency and this finesse was apparent to me in the other athletes.

We met a young couple with their 2 young kids who were also there to race.  He said he was back for redemption, as he had raced last year and gotten really sick from swallowing a lot of salt water because he seeded himself in the middle of the competitive commotion on the swim.  He puked his way through the rest of the race and for hours afterwards.  This confirmed my previous decision to seed myself cautiously on the swim.

The day after arriving we woke up early to cycle out to Chankanaab Park for a 40 min. practice swim at the event location.  That practice swim raised my confidence another level that my swim was going to go well.  I don't think I have ever seen water that is a more crystal clear incredible blue than this water.  It was surprisingly salty and we agreed that we needed to turn our heads that extra bit on the breath to avoid swallowing and getting sick.  There was a gentle current and we both easily found a rythym to match our strokes and breathing to the waves.  It came naturally to feel relaxed and excited, considering we were in a tropical paradise at a world renowned snorkeling destination, with beautiful coral and fish to admire.  Adam got bit by a couple jelly fish but I didn't notice any bites, which is surprising considering they were feasting on us on race day.

The pre-race meeting later that day was good, although we really stumped the presenters when we asked a few questions at the Q & A session afterwards, so we just took our questions directly to the race organizer:
                 - How many mlls. are in the aid station bottles?
                 - Can you pick up your special needs bags on any lap of the bike and run?
                 - Is the ice on course made from purified water (safe to eat?)

                 - Where is there sunscreen available on course?

I found some humor in the athlete "peacocking", as we all seemed to be sizing each other up and deciding whether we were faster than the next guy/girl.  Most athletes had packed all their Ironman paraphernalia from previous Ironman races and some people had on a visor, jacket, shirt, shorts etc all from races they had competed in.  I thought it odd, considering their current observers were least likely to be impressed that they had done an Ironman.

The athlete dinner that night was catered by Senior Frogs and was a tasty carb loading affair (mashed potatoes, fresh tomatoe pasta, rice and veggies, salad and fresh mozzarella cheese.  Coming from our carb-paranoid culture, it was wonderful to be a part of the Ironman culture, where food is viewed as fuel for the body.

The day before the race we had a 30 min. run scheduled in the morning. Amazing that a year ago a 30 min. run would have BEEN my workout but now it's what I do to stay warm and relaxed before a race.  Adam and I joked that a drug addict takes drugs to relax and feel good, whereas a triathlete goes for a jog.

For the most part I felt confident and excited as we prepared for the race but occasionally I would get a wave of nausea and nervousness, which I would counteract with soothing mental phrases like, "it's just a long a training day Kim", "you're ready, you've prepared well, now just go enjoy it", and "there's nothing to be afraid of" followed by some cleansing yoga breaths.

In the afternoon, we took our bikes to set up our transition area and get body marked.  We were so lucky to have the first two spots on the bike racks, so that our bikes would be easy to find in our delirious post-swim state.  That evening when we got back to our hotel the restaurant wasn't open yet so we found a Subway and split a tuna sub.  Then we shared a meat and tomatoe pasta and a potatoe soup at a local restaurant.  Of course we also shared a pint of ice cream, as this has become a tradition of mine to eat ice cream the night before a race.  It seems to give me great energy the following day. I figured since it was going to be a long race, I needed to eat A LOT of ice cream.

Back at the hotel we set our alarm and a back up alarm for 4:30am and went to bed around 10:30pm.  I joked about how tragic it would be to accidently sleep in and wake up at 8am or something.  We both slept well after letting a couple more waves of nervous nausea pass. Before falling asleep we both smiled and said that, "this time tomorrow we'll both have done an Ironman." Little did I know what a loooonnnnnnggg day I had ahead of me and that I wouldn't, in fact, be finished until 11pm.

RACE DAY

We woke up at 4am, anxious to get going on the day.  We filled concentrate bottles with water, topped them up with ice (so we wouldn't have to drink hot tea on course), ate some cereal with yogurt and banana and then got in line to wait for the athlete shuttle, which TOOK FOREVER TO COME.  The transition area is open from 5:30 to 6:30, which time is supposed to be used to fill tires, put bottles and other nutrition on the bike, put on sunscreen, hand in the special needs bags etc.  At 6:30 the athletes are supposed to make their way down to the swim start where the almost 2,400 participants walk to the dock to get in the water and then swim a couple hundred meters to their chosen starting location.

Our shuttle bus didn't even come until 5:15 and then due to bad traffic it didn't arrive at the swim start until 6am.  We tried to remain calm on the drive. Adam, my always steady supporter just said, "don't worry Kimmy, I'll take care of everything with the bikes and you just get yourself ready."  So after handing in our special needs bags to the correct bus, off I went to stand in the 30 min long bathroom line.  It's the only time I've seen a much SHORTER line for the women than for the men.  I guess that's one advantage of only 25% of the field being female.

It was actually fun to chat with the other ladies in line around me.  They were all in their 40's, had two kids each and were from various places in South America.  They had all raced this course before and told me that I was going to love it for my first Ironman race.  They said the wind is incredibly strong on the east side of the island and that you have to sit up on the bike because aero position would be too unstable.  I thought to myself, "hmmm, we'll see....I've done a lot of training in the wind."  The bathroom had no toilet paper, which was an indication of things to come.

After a quick final check on the bike and locking in the satellite on my GPS watch, we made the walk to the swim docks.  The announcer over the loudspeaker kept encouraging people to get in the water.  She'd say things like, "some of you are in the water warming up by now and some of you are sitting hesitantly on the docks...we need ALL of you to GET IN THE WATER.  We have almost 2,400 athletes here and we need to get all of you in the water."

They were handing out Gatorade Primes, which we quickly drank and made our way to the rear docks because we wanted to start near the back of the pack.  There were cheering crowds lining the walkway and then we spotted a Canada flag and my parents cheering for us.  My dad had tears in his eyes and they both looked so proud and excited for us.  It was fun to see familiar faces and feel their support.  The crowd support throughout the race was great.  Mexican people know how to cheer!!  Lots of loud music and dancing all over the course.

THE SWIM

As we walked down the stairs near the end of the dock, I heard the announcer say, "eight minutes 'til start time."  I thought, "great, that's plenty of time to get in position."  Then, "wow I can't believe this race is finally here, this is so great."  In swimming out to position, I realized that my french braids were going to whack me in the face and I needed to tuck them into my swim cap, so I took a quick minute to do that.  We started casually breaststroking out to position when unexpectedly, we heard a loud bell chiming.  "Is it started?" I called to Adam and he just looked stunned and didn't respond.  We treaded water while looking around and trying to figure out if that was, in fact, the start of the race.  I started laughing because Adam looked so confused and it all seemed pretty funny, not knowing if we were supposed to start or not.  Then we heard a horn and I yelled, "I think it's started", while swimming up to where Adam was.  He waited until I was close and then began because he had agreed to "clear the way" for me for the first 2 minutes of the race.  We had 200 m. to swim before we even got to the buoys that marked the starting line.  I followed his feet and smiled ear to ear because that was such a funny start and because I WAS ACTUALLY RACING NOW and I LOVE TO RACE!

Because we started so far back, we had a lot of slower swimmers to pass through.  It was actually kind of fun to weave through a tonne of people and know that we were faster than you and you and you and you..... I had a nice rythym, stayed relaxed and kept the salt water out of my mouth.  The great thing about racing in an ironman, is the race pace is a nice comfortable aerobic pace, just like I had been doing for 6 months of training.  So different from racing in a shorter triathlon. During the swim, I kept thinking, "wow, this thing is taking forever."  Time really slows down for me when I swim, even in training.  After rounding the first turn, I must have swung out too far to the right because I kept noticing that all the swimmers were on my left.  I'd re-check my sighting and it seemed like I was on track so I'd think, "well, carry on."

The jelly fish bites were a constant nuisance, ranging in pain intensity from a mosquito bite to a bee sting.  The ones on my feet and my lip hurt the most and I probably got bit about 60 times in total.  My swim fitness was perfect, as nothing felt tired....thank you coach Florian and thank you endless training hours in the Gold's Gym pool.

As I found my sweet spot in the crowd among similar swimmers, I was able to relax even more and admire the crystal clear water, the coral and the tropical fish, of which there were only a few because I think the throngs of people probably scared them away.  Rounding the last turn, it was really exciting to be on the home stretch and then at the swim finish there was a set of stairs to climb up.  A couple of people seemed like they were pretty messed up and were sitting on the stairs in the way.  Running next to the crowds to the change tents, I felt so proud and happy and had fun cheering with them and giving a few high fives.

Next was a quick rinse in the shower to get the salt water off.  Then pick up the bike bag and into the female change tent.  It was so odd in there because there were a couple groups of Spanish women who were laughing and talking loudly and it kind of felt like a little party.  I was thinking, "isn't this a race?  What is going on here?"  There was no volunteer help and I was distracted by the party atmosphere but  I tried to focus and dry off, put on bike shirt, socks, shoes, helmet and sunglasses.  I ran out of the change tent, grabbed my bike from the rack and was glad to see that Adam's bike was gone and he was on his way.

THE BIKE

I LOVE THAT FEELING of starting the bike segment in triathlon; you're still damp from the swim, the breeze feels cool and refreshing, the speed is invigorating after crawling through water and it's one sport down, two to go.  My plan was to take it easy on the bike, stay in the low end of my heart rate zone (around 135) and save my legs for the run.  I accomplished this perfectly and kept my speed around 30km/hr on the normal stretches and between 20-25km/hr on the windy segment.  I knew pacing was really important in the beginning when my legs felt fresh and it would be easy to go faster.  I felt amazing and I also felt hungry so I took a gel right away but that didn't settle well in my stomach.  There were so many athletes close together in the beginning, so breaking the drafting rule was inevitable.  I was easily going over 30km/hr and kept reminding myself to "take it easy."  


I chatted with other athletes, particularly those from Canada who noticed my bike jersey.  At that point, I was getting passed a lot more than I was passing but I just said to myself as my coach had suggested, "see you in a lap or two."  On the southern tip of the island, the highway takes a quick turn north to head up the windy east side of the island, right next to the coast.  The view took my breath away, it was SO GORGEOUS!  It's been left just as God created it, with big crashing waves, crystal clear blue water, white sand, devoid of people or buildings.  I loved it and wanted to let out a big scream of joy but was a little embarrassed because of the athletes nearby so I tempered it down to a quiet scream of joy.  But that didn't seem like quite enough so I let out another moderately loud, "WOOO-HOOOOO!"

The aid stations were an adventure in and of themselves.  Based on Adam's experience at Ironman St George and the description online, I was expecting great aid stations with lots of people passing out waters, gatorades, bananas, bars, gels, oranges, ice and cookies.  In reality, there was always a few people handing out water and gatorade and if you were lucky a banana but that was it.  If you wanted anything else you would have to literally stop and wait while someone found what you were looking for.  It was fun figuring out how to efficiently pass through those stations....I had to open the top on my aero bottle beforehand, slow down to about 15 km/hr (depends how many other athletes were arriving simultaneously), shout "AGUA!" and grab one off their flat held hand, dump the water into my aero bottle, toss it in the 'drop spot' and sometimes try for a banana grab as well but that made things even more tricky.  If I had extra water is was nice to splash myself with it to cool off (by mid afternoon the sun was SCORCHING.  The forecast had said a high of 27 but it felt hotter.)


For me, the incredible view and sound of the crashing waves made up entirely for the gusting winds on that 20 km stretch....plus I've had plenty of rides out 22X east so I was perfectly comfortable in aero position.  My CO2 cartridge fell off unexpectedly and went clanging on the ground between me and another rider.  "Was that yours?" he asked.  It took me a minute to figure out that it was mine and I responded, "Yeah, I think it was.  I'll just pick up a spare in my special needs bag."  I wasn't planning on stopping to get my ham and cheese sandwich and delicious chocolate muffin out of my special needs bag until the second lap, but I figured I better stop this lap to get that spare cartridge.


I pulled into the special needs bag area and after several Mexican teenagers had disappeared looking for my bag, I decided to go look for it myself, only to discover that THEY HAD LOST MY BAG.  So, I made a quick decision to grab a few things from Adam's special need's bag, which was hanging next to where mine should have been.  I took his cartridge and his sandwich, leaving him his bars.  It was so funny to talk to him after the race because I asked if he had stopped for his bag on the bike and he responded, "yeah and you wouldn't believe it but the Mexicans stole my stuff!"  I laughed and explained what happened and he said it was good I took the sandwich because he wouldn't have eaten it anyways.


I felt amazing on the second lap of the island and started passing a tonne of people.  By the third lap I started to get a little tired but still maintained a decent speed and passed a lot on the windy side.  I remember passing this Spanish guy who was about my age and he said something in Spanish and when I looked confused for not understanding he said, "you look good."  Meaning I think that I looked fresh, considering we were on our third lap of the windy side.  A few people commented as I passed, "this wind is killing me!"  All in all, I am extremely happy with how the bike went.  My avg speed was 26 km/hr and if you take into account the 5 min. I stopped at special needs and slowing down for an aid station every 10 km. then my average speed was closer to 28 km/hr.


With about 8 km left on the bike, a HUGE RAINSTORM came through....I'm talking like monsoon style.  It was so funny!  The streets flooded instantly and in some sections the water was halfway up my tire.  I really didn't know how fast was safe to go in deep water so I told the lady in front of me, "I'll go as fast as you go."  Unfortunately the sewers were also backed up so this was NASTY WATER in some spots.  It was actually really nice to cool down before the run and it was good timing because the rain stopped while I was in the transition tent and I was able to change into a dry shirt and socks.


THE CALORIE COUNT
CALORIES BURNED:
Swim: 1,000
Bike: 5,500
Run: 3,500
TOTAL: 10,000

CALORIES CONSUMED:
Swim: 150 (Gatorade Prime and EFS drink)
Bike: 2,500 (One gel, 3 Hammer bars, one small sandwich, some fruit gummies, a banana, 3/4 of my concentrate drink and one gatorade)
Run:  1,300 (6 gels, 2 bananas, 5 orange slices, cola, gatorade, mona vie, and EFS electrolyte drink)
TOTAL: 3,950

THE RUN

WARNING: SKIP THIS SECTION IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH HEARING DETAILS OF OTHER PEOPLE'S BODILY FUNCTIONS.  
I know that probably makes most of you even more curious to keep reading.  I'm going to try to explain this experience while not being too gross, which is very tricky.  

I felt great starting my run.  My legs felt kind of heavy and my hip flexors were really tight and tired but considering I had just biked 180 km, I felt great.  After about 1 km. I heard someone from behind me say, "hey good lookin." I turned and there was Adam starting his second lap.  "No way!" I said, so happy and surprised to see him.  He fell into my pace at the time, which was about 5:20 min/km and he commented that I was going pretty fast and it had taken him a bit to catch up to me.  We had a great time running for a couple kms. together but then I had to stop and use the port o' potty so we split up at that point.  It seems that running has somewhat of a laxative effect on my body sometimes and the immodium I had taken on the last leg of the bike wasn't helping that.  I had a good first lap, stopping just one other time for the port o' potty.  Due to the rainstorm, there was a spot on the run that was flooded with backed up sewage water.  Apparently some athletes got bad infections from that putrid water infesting a cut on their feet.

My memory is kind of hazy on that second lap probably because my cognitive function literally ground to almost a halt.  I know that at one point I realized that I needed more calories and so I started taking gels.  I had been avoiding the gels up until then because they had upset my stomach on the bike but that was a mistake.  I was so focused on grabbing ice and water that I didn't focus enough on getting proper calories. (The ice down my sports bra and shorts helped a tonne because even after the storm it was still HOT).  I also decided to start taking caffeine, thinking that might help boost my energy.  I had to stop more and more at the port o' potties which was sucking up my time.  None of them had toilet paper, so I learned to take in a couple baggies of water to clean off.  As I sat in one of them, a lady asked from outside, "how is this one?"  "I looked around at the feces on the floor and on the walls and answered, "not too bad actually, I've seen worse" because I was thinking of my previous stop when there were feces all over the toilet seat.  

I did finish half the marathon in just over 2.5 hrs, which was good considering all the stops.  As I sat in one of the port o'potties on the way back from the second lap, I thought I might pass out in there, I was starting to get so light headed.  This was kind of scary because no one would know I was in there.  Shortly after that I started to walk because I was getting too lightheaded to run anymore.  If you've never done it, it is really hard to fathom how long a marathon feels after swimming 4 km and biking 180 km but let me tell you, it feels even longer when you are sick.  As I walked, I went through a checklist in my head, trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  I knew I wasn't dehydrated because I was peeing constantly.  I knew I hadn't taken in enough calories but I also decided that I had hyponatremia, which is when you take in too much water without replacing the electrolytes in proper ratio.  Along with being light headed, I felt disoriented, confused and foggy.  This was a lot to deal with, considering the stomach/bowel issues I was already dealing with.  I only had a few salt tablets left, so when I passed my parents, as I finished that second lap, I asked in desperation for them to try to find Adam and get me more tablets.  My mom said that the people coming in were starting to look pretty rough and many of them had this real vacant look in their eyes.  She was worried that I would come around looking like that because I was taking so long and unfortunately I did look and feel SICK!

That third lap loomed as one of the most overwhelming things I have ever faced.  My body was falling apart on me, I didn't know when I was going to faint or crap myself or both and I had zero energy left.  I gave my mom a hug and she said, "you have plenty of time (about 5 hours until the cutoff at midnight), you can finish this."  She said she felt like crying but knew that wasn't what I needed at the time.  I had felt SO overwhelmed but then I started to think, "ok I can do this!"  One step at a time.  I can do this.  I told her that I was going to start walking and that dad could come catch up to me if he was able to get pills.  Off I went to walk14 km when I was more fit for a hospital than for a marathon. I realized that the hardest part was in approaching that daunting task, knowing it would be so hard and deciding whether to do it or not.  Once I started, it felt more manageable because I was eating away at my elephant, metre by metre, km by km, rather than just standing there staring at the elephant.

In my desperate state, I decided to start asking other athletes if they had any extra salt tablets and that's when I became the crazy on-course salt begger.  I asked people who were coming the opposite direction finishing up their third lap, I asked people going to the same way I was and I even asked people on the streets who had either finished their race or were cheering...I pretty much asked everyone.  I'd say things like, "I'm really sick.  I think I have hyponatremia, do you have any extra salt tabs?"  Lots of people were really nice and gave me what they could.  A few people offered encouragement.  One nice guy about my age gave me a rice krispie square, which actually went down well.  An older man walked with me for a bit and told me about his calf muscle that was hurting him badly.  He told me that he knew I would finish it.  He knew exactly the pace we were walking and how long it would take us to finish and told me I had plenty of time. I told him "I don't know if I can do it, I'm so sick" and he responded, "I know you'll do it."  Thank you so much random stranger, you have no idea how much your words of encouragement meant to me! When I asked him if he thought I'd feel better once I got my salt levels up, he said, "oh yeah, you'll feel better....you'll feel better when you're done the race."

I had no idea how many salt tabs to take but I asked a few people and they said that I really couldn't take too many, so I took that pretty literally and took over 20 tabs in an hour (it could have been over 30, I really don't know.)  I had quite a collection going when my dad finally discovered me.  He said, "I brought you some tabs."  I responded, "oh that's great" and pulled out my baggies full of tabs to proudly add them to my collection.  I was officially a crazy lady.  My dad had begged some salt tabs off some other athlete and had hitched a ride with a random Mexican man on a scooter to catch me.  I asked, "are you going to walk with me?"  He said, "yeah, I think so."  Such a relief, especially with the ever present possibility of fainting.  At this point I was not just walking, I was walking SSSLLLOOOOW and I was stopping at every port o' potty and sometimes the bushes in between.  My bowels were messed up.  So there we were, walking along holding hands and when I asked him to sing to me he chose, "I am A Child of God" (A child's song from church).  Certainly not the experience I had expected for my race but memorable and special in it's own way.  I had prayed beforehand that this race would go well but had the feeling that I would finish and that God would be with me, whatever that meant.  He was with me and even though the race didn't go as hoped, He sent me an angel in the form of my dad to hold my hand and sing to me.

There were moments here and there where my mind would clear a little and it was really exciting to be able to grasp, even briefly, at feeling 'normal'.  I'd squeeze my dad's hand and say, "I'm feeling a bit better" but then the haze would settle back in and my mind would sink into fog again.  It was unlike anything I have ever experienced.  My dad became the salt pill regulator and gave me about 4 pills/hour from my extravagent stash.  I tried to put together coherent thoughts and tell him stories about the race like the jelly fish bites and stealing from Adam's special needs bag.  I asked him for things to pass the time like, "tell me about when you were in the most pain in your life?" Or, "tell me how I could feel worse right now" because I wanted to know that it could, in fact, be worse.

I kept wondering, in my head and aloud, whether or not I would finish and it wasn't until I got to the edge of the city with about 4 km left that I felt sure I would finish.  Between aid stations and in need of a bathroom, I headed into a hotel and asked where the washroom was.  It was so nice to be warm because by that point I was shaking due to chills and my dad had given me his shirt and hat to keep warm.  I took a warm washcloth off the counter, put it on my forehead and sat there for a long time.  I had given myself a serious salt water cleanse that finally passed through.  My dad cracked the door and asked if I was ok because I had been in there for over ten minutes.  I prayed to Heavenly Father, telling him that I had just a few kms left and asked if it was possible for me to feel good for those last few kms.  I felt great after that and as we continued on our way I told my dad, "I feel like I could run now.  I'm not actually going to because I don't want to pass out but it's nice to feel like I could."  As we got within a km I gave my dad his shirt back and told him to run ahead to let mom and Adam know I was coming in.

Within 100 m of the finish line I started to run and it was amazing.  I yelled, "I did it!" to my mom and gave the crowd a bunch of high fives.  The announcer said, "let's give it up for that lovely lady Kim Layton.  Kim, you should be really pleased with yourself right now because you know what I'm going to say because, KIM... YOU... ARE.... AN.... IRONMAN!"

Adam was waiting at the finish line and put my medal around my neck and gave me a big hug.  Special moment!!

Here are Adam's splits:

ADAM LAYTON

BIB	AGE	STATE/COUNTRY	PROFESSION
1736	32	CANADA	SALES MANAGER

SWIM	BIKE	RUN	OVERALL	RANK	DIV.POS.
1:13:52	5:52:23	4:10:50	11:30:40	483	90

LEG	DISTANCE	PACE	RANK	DIV.POS.
TOTAL SWIM	3.8 km (1:13:52)	1:56/100m	944	142
BIKE SPLIT 1: 54 km	54 km (1:43:30)	31.30 km/h
BIKE SPLIT 2: 117 km	63 km (1:59:27)	31.65 km/h
BIKE SPLIT 3: 180 km	63 km (2:09:26)	29.20 km/h
TOTAL BIKE	180 km (5:52:23)	30.65 km/h	657	108
RUN SPLIT 1: 7.04 km	7.04 km (40:27)	5:44/km
RUN SPLIT 2: 20.96 km	13.92 km (1:22:36)	5:56/km
RUN SPLIT 3: 34.88 km	13.92 km (1:26:08)	6:11/km
RUN SPLIT 4: 42.4 km	7.52 km (41:39)	5:32/km
TOTAL RUN	42.4 km (4:10:50)	5:54/km	483	90
TRANSITION				TIME
T1: SWIM-TO-BIKE				8:51
T2: BIKE-TO-RUN				4:44

Here are my splits:

KIM LAYTON

BIB	AGE	STATE/COUNTRY	PROFESSION
1737	29	CANADA	WIFE, MOM, PERSONAL TRAINER

SWIM	BIKE	RUN	OVERALL	RANK	DIV.POS.
1:28:12	7:00:37	7:22:04	16:04:39	1674	49

LEG	DISTANCE	PACE	RANK	DIV.POS.
TOTAL SWIM	3.8 km (1:28:12)	2:19/100m	1633	47
BIKE SPLIT 1: 54 km	54 km (2:10:06)	24.90 km/h
BIKE SPLIT 2: 117 km	63 km (2:21:18)	26.75 km/h
BIKE SPLIT 3: 180 km	63 km (2:29:13)	25.33 km/h
TOTAL BIKE	180 km (7:00:37)	25.68 km/h	1444	36
RUN SPLIT 1: 7.04 km	7.04 km (44:14)	6:16/km
RUN SPLIT 2: 20.96 km	13.92 km (1:48:48)	7:48/km
RUN SPLIT 3: 34.88 km	13.92 km (3:09:43)	13:37/km
RUN SPLIT 4: 42.4 km	7.52 km (1:39:19)	13:12/km
TOTAL RUN	42.4 km (7:22:04)	10:25/km	1674	49
TRANSITION				TIME
T1: SWIM-TO-BIKE				7:00
T2: BIKE-TO-RUN				6:46

Numbers only tell a part of the story though, don't they??  My numbers on the swim and the bike look good but I am more proud of myself for what I did on the run because I overcame so much more.  I am disappointed that I couldn't do what I was capable of doing on the run and I am still coming to terms with this and mourning "the race that could have been" so to speak.  On the other hand, this race makes a much better story and I will always treasure this experience, as I conquered the island and did something hard.  This was my Ironman story.

Check back in a couple weeks and I'll post on life post-Ironman and let you know what our next big adventure will be.