Read Sandy`s Journal

 E-­‐Summary: I just returned from the 2015 Ironman World Championships in Kona, HI. Yes, hands down, it was the hardest thing I've EVER done, which made crossing the finish line that much more rewarding and earned. I am still overwhelmed with emotion! Thanks for being my iron-­‐spiration! If interested, read on and enjoy! Swim 2.4mi, Bike 112 mi, Run 26.2 mi in Kona, HI…become an Ironman World Championship Finisher for the rest of your life! Pre-­‐Race: My family and I arrived on the Big Island of Hawaii late Thursday evening, Oct. 1, well ahead of the 2015 Ironman World Championships. The extreme conditions of the Kona 140.6 mile course as well as a six-­‐hour time difference warrant time to acclimate, rest and adjust. The nine days leading up to the race included my final week of tapered training, i.e. two workouts a day, far less in duration with some intensity sprinkled in. I learned very quickly the island’s conditions were not normal nor were they ever consistent, such that I needed to respect and embrace them. My swims were in Kailua-­‐Kona Bay, crystal clear salt waters with massive corrals and varied sea life below the surface. Imagine swimming in an aquarium. My first swim was in very choppy waters, ultimately leaving me nauseous. I did see nine dolphins hanging out on the deeper ocean floor below me, with three choosing to swim with me. What a unique, natural experience! Saturday’s conditions were smoother, which left me quite confident after completing the race’s official 2.4-­‐mile training swim. However, that confidence was short lived as my subsequent daily early morning swims included significant swells, white caps, riptides and or under currents due to storms in the Pacific. I never panicked per se, but I also swam “in-­‐
place” for extremely long durations trying to catch air and or ultimately escape the currents. Although I have worked on it, swimming is still my weakest sport. Kona’s unpredictable conditions triggered some fear, uncertainty and doubt in my mind. Stay positive Sandy. Time to adapt and create a plan B. I watched several videos to further learn how to deal with the various and specific challenges I encountered in Kailua-­‐Kona Bay, anticipating I’d draw on them race day. My training rides were just as unpredictable given the varied terrain of the Big Island and its’ winds. The first couple of rides, I experienced lots of strong 45+ mph side gusts. I had to keep my core engaged and remain in aero position as much as possible to avoid being blown off the bike, like others I witnessed. Other days were 100% headwinds, where all of my leg strength and power stroke, resulted in measly 7-­‐8 mph, not fun. Just hearing the wind whirl around my helmet for hours had me questioning my strength to bear a difficult 112-­‐mile ride race day. Two other days, I experienced fabulous tailwinds that had me cruising 42+ mph; life was good and easy those days. They allotted me opportunities to appreciate the breath taking views of Hawaii’s coastline, cliffs, mountains ranges, volcanoes, and of course black lava fields. I was hopeful the wind gods would blow favorably on race day. My last longest run was a 10-­‐mile out and back on the famous Ali’i Drive, dotted with restaurants, ocean front homes and surfer beaches. My legs were well rested, so I focused on my technique and cruised along taking it all in. I even tried to imagine what the finish line would feel like as I finished at the soon to be constructed World Championship finishing chute, teasing my husband that I had practiced my finish line poses that same morning…not. My subsequent runs were relaxed, mostly checking out parts of the course: the famous Palani Hill, the Queen K rollers, and of course the Energy Lab, aka the sauna. I ran some after 5pm as well, to get a feel for running in complete darkness for miles. It was eerie and different, yet also reflective. As each day passed, more and more Ironman athletes, media, officials and volunteers filled the tiny Kona streets. Honestly, I had never seen so many perfectly fit people so concentrated, nor as much “expensive” triathlon bikes and gear in one place. The top 2% were gearing up for their specific race goals, or like me, the chance of a lifetime to experience the epic Kona World Championships. I very much wanted to also experience Hawaii and it’s culture, not just the race. So, we stayed a few miles north of town at the Honu Kai Bed & Breakfast. It was the best decision for us. We immediately felt at home with our hosts, Wendi and Dave. Sleeping uninterrupted for 7-­‐8 hours a night, enjoying fresh, cooked breakfasts, simply relaxing in their oasis, and taking short mini-­‐excursions, kept me relaxed, focused and ultimately race ready. We’d chill on the decks, sharing both life adventures and race stories (their nephew won M20-­‐24 IM Melbourne) with their extended family, while being entertained by birds, flowers, fountains and even packs of cute geckos. Being semi-­‐detached from the race’s hussle-­‐n-­‐bussle was refreshing. It wasn’t until I went to the Parade of Nations and the Athlete Welcoming Banquet that I grasped the full magnitude of what was in store for me and the other 2367 athletes from around the world. It was very emotional and motivational to see prior winners, to watch 1978-­‐2014 Championship highlights, to hear from the youngest and oldest participants, and to understand this year’s theme: Onipa’a – the strength to remain steadfast, resilient, and resolute, to remain unwavering in your quest for triumph. Ironically, instead of pre-­‐race nerves consuming me like in other races, I felt connected with the Big Island, at peace and remained calm taking in each experience. Although I was absolutely challenged by the constantly changing conditions while here, I learned, I adapted and I grew. Adaptation would be the key to a successful race. Friday morning, the day before race day, started with a quick swim, bike and run to confirm my gear was race ready. Yep, I am race ready, too. After a lovely B&B breakfast, I proceeded with formally checking in my bike, helmet, bike & run gear bags. By now, the course was fully set up, including stands, security, media, and reporters. It felt weird having so many cameras pointing at me and other athletes, but I went with the flow, taking it all in. My Mom cooked my final carb dinner. I reviewed my race plan, read many thoughtful cards and “find a way forward” quotes from Rod; lights were out by 8pm. To my delight, just like my prior 8 nights, I slept peacefully. Race Day: Finally, the Kona 2015 World Championships are here! It’s been my main goal for well over a year and I am humbled to be at its’ prestigious start line representing Team Challenge: Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America. I ate my standard banana, bagel and almond butter breakfast at 3:30am, and then I headed to the main event at 4:15am with my family, sipping on G2 to top off my electrolytes. No sharpie markers here, I was body marked with an official (temporary) #806 tattoo (sticker) on my arms, visited the medical tent for a pre-­‐evaluation weigh-­‐in (used as a baseline, if needed), stretched for a bit, then told my family I’d see them at the finish line after some photos, hugs and kisses. Rod told me to stay focused and to be extra aggressive during the ocean swim. He always puts me in the right zone. I did a quick warm-­‐up swim in a smaller bay, before heading to the official start queue on the pier. I took in one final gel and two salt tablets, 15 minutes prior to the start. There is no other Ironman start as intimidating yet as amazing as Kona’s, every inch of land and a significant portion of sea itself, is occupied by athletes, fans, volunteers, paddleboards, canoes and boats. Even the sky is circled with helicopters whirling their blades overhead. To ensure “better” safety and fairness, the athletes would start in 4 waves: Pro Men, Pro Women, Age Group Men, and Age Group Women. I would be going off in the final wave with 664 females. There is minimal sand at Kona, so the start line is floating about 60 yards out from shore. We were guided to swim out to it, 10 minutes ahead of our start time. I stayed at shore for a bit to conserve energy and then made my way out to the back half of the pack. I noticed the clock showing 7 minutes, so instead of dog paddling, I floated on my back, tried to remain calm, said another prayer, then took in the energy of the moment. At the one-­‐minute warning, they announced Paula Newby-­‐
Fraser, a 24xIronman winner, including 8xKona IMWC wins, would be shooting off our cannon. The female athletes excitedly erupted, trying to clap and wave to the “Queen of Kona”. Conversely, as soon as the cannon shot, it was complete pandemonium! Arms, bodies and legs were flying over each other. I was trying to keep position while vying for limited air. I got whacked, kicked, pulled-­‐down and swam over many, many times, especially in the first 500+ yards, yet stayed focused, composed and aggressive as well. Eventually, the bodies spread out and I tried my best to draft off faster swimmers as long as I could. Yes, this is legal. This was the most aggressive set of swimmers; they’d make contact even when I got too close. I noticed steady swells as well as some chop further out, so I then switched my focus to swimming and breathing like a dolphin, i.e. Altering my pool stroke to adapt and leverage the movement of the water and swells vs. fighting them. The 1.2-­‐mile turn around point included going around a Body Glove boat. It seemed to take forever to get there, but I stayed in the moment. The return route had more under currents wanting to pull me right, so I re-­‐adjusted my sighting and breathing to primarily left, to better keep the pier in view. It seemed to work. I don’t recall tiring on the swim as much as feeling as though it was taking a long time. Pre-­‐race I had decided I would not look at my watch today, as I didn’t want to know how fast (or slow) I’d be going. I would instead listen to my body. Eventually, I noticed I had caught up with the back of the AG Male wave, a very good sign that I may have surpassed my biggest race fear – the swim cut-­‐off time. Folks were hollering favorably when I came out of the water and up the carpeted steps, so I moved on, very excited to be done with the ocean! I hit the hanging hoses, trying to get the salt water off my body and out of my clothes. I would learn later that salt water promotes some weird chaffing spots! I grabbed my bike gear bag and headed into the change tent. During transition, I recalled being extra thirsty (from salt water?), so I downed two cups of water before running to my bike. Oops, I went back to get sunscreen applied. There was not a cloud in the sky, so I knew it was going to be a real scorcher and being burnt would not be good. I couldn’t believe I spotted my husband and my mom, amongst the thousand of fans, just after mounting my bike. “Hello, I love you guys!” The first six miles of the bike is through the town, always nice to see and hear the streets lined with fans screaming their support. I could feel their energy. I spotted my husband again, aka my photo/video-­‐grapher, as I turned on the Queen K highway. I blew him a kiss. Shortly there after however, it was nearly complete silence riding through the black lava fields and dessert. Occasionally some fans came outside of the resorts to cheer us on. We encountered a mixture of heavy and steady head and side winds while on the Queen K. I kept a consistent and efficient pedal stroke, knowing there were many miles still ahead of me. I also focused on staying ahead on my calories, liquids and electrolytes in anticipation of the long day ahead. The first 40 miles of the bike ran parallel to the coastline, a rare and occasional glimpse reminded me to enjoy the ride, even under harsh conditions. The pro men and pro women leaders blurred by me around my mile 45, returning to Kona. It’s so unique to participate with them in this epic event! I then started the nine-­‐mile climb to Hawi, winds shifted to a head wind, lovely, and then an unexpected storm blew in. For the next 14 miles, the rain and winds reeked havoc on us, I paid extra attention to be smart on the now drenched road, especially on the already dangerous descent. I did notice a slight tailwind when the rain stopped and the humidity jumped up, only lasting for about 2 miles before we were slapped with more cross winds. I kept telling myself to get back to the Queen K where I had previously experienced ‘helpful’ tailwinds. Unfortunately, the remaining 35 miles on the Queen K ended up being the MOST forceful headwinds of the day. My legs and lower back were screaming the last 2 hours, just to keep the bike moving forward. This was a dig deep moment for a very long time – I had to be “Coop Strong”. Thank goodness I had kept up with my nutrition to have the energy and stamina to persevere; unlike others I saw losing their battle. The race vans passed with bikes in tow for those ending early. The bike aid stations were every seven miles. Although I elected to carry my own nutrition, I took advantage of the cold water bottles to hose down my body while riding through each station, this helped to keep my core temperatures and heart rate as low as feasible, especially as the temps increased hourly. With six miles to go on the bike, the bike and run courses overlap. I saw athletes already struggling on the run; it was a wake-­‐up call that I still had a marathon ahead of me with no idea if my legs would hold up after encountering the prevalent head winds the last few hours. I started upping my mental game, going through my list of words taped on my bike and reflecting on the final stages of this journey. Rod snapped a few shots of me during the last mile of the bike. Once again, he was just the spark I needed at that particular point. I cleanly dismounted my bike, started to run into the transition area and immediately confirmed my legs felt like running through Jell-­‐O. I’m sure I looked quite funny for a minute trying to find my land legs. Into the change tent, more lube, more sunscreen, and another energy gel with water. It’s time to run 26.2 miles! There was no wind and no cloud cover on the run course, making the air extra thick and the asphalt hotter than the 90-­‐degree air temperature. Immediately, I noticed significant hot spots on the bottom balls of BOTH feet. What’s that?!?! I had never encountered these before and the pain increased with each step, to the point of being nearly unbearable. My original goal was to fully run the marathon, no excuses. I knew my mental strength would have to pull me through this pain. So, I set a goal to get to mile 1, then mile 3, and then mile 5. On several occasions, I questioned if I would have to pause momentarily or even stop completely as the pain continued to increase. Mile 9 became my “reassess” point. I saw Rod at mile 6, yea! And my Mom at mile 8, yea! Just the boost I needed. Yes, the pain remained at mile 9, as did the Palani hill, so I shifted my focus to run to its top, unlike the others who decided to walk. Replaying my race words as well as “my why”, helped me breakthrough the painful hotspots. Mile 10 put me back on the Queen K. Per my training runs, I knew what lied ahead. So, I broke the course into larger segment goals. First up, rollers through the hot lava fields. Given the heat and humidity were still brutal, I zoned in on my form and technique, cruising along. Each aid station, I’d dip my cooling hat in ice water and drench my skin cooler (long sleeve top) with cups of ice water, this became a pleasant routine and kept me from focusing too much on the Kona-­‐tough conditions. Next up, an out and back loop through the famous Energy Lab, the same spot we had seen fabulous sun sets throughout the week. Though now, it was completely dark. Having kept ahead of my calories, liquid and electrolytes, I was feeling good. I put on my lid light to ensure safer steps; other athletes appreciated my light (and humor). Amazingly, I saw Rod twice at the energy lab. It was my BEST surprise of the race to see his smile, his wink and his encouragement! He always makes me smile. I told him once again I’d see him at the finish line. At the mile 20 aid station, I dipped my hat and again reached for two water cups to pour on my sleeves, however the liquid was hot. Odd, uh-­‐oh! A lady apologized that it was actually chicken broth (many athletes drink it for additional sodium late in the race), not water, so she showered me down. I was thankful it wasn’t boiling. I laughed it off, wondering what it’d do to my already unpleasant aroma, and moved on. I stuck to my nutrition and cooling off plan the last 6 miles, trying to stay in the moment and not let my emotions of this journey get ahead of me. Five miles out I caught two more guys running, I said “let’s go get the final 5”, one agreed and one conveyed, I’ll run with you until I puke. Well that eventually happened and they both faded. I kept moving forward. Two miles out, I could hear the finish line. Fans began to re-­‐line the streets cheering for me, (I’m not that popular J, my name is on my bib number), so they’d shout out accolade after accolade. For the first time, I finally told myself, “you’ve got this Sandy, you’ve earned it, be sure to enjoy yourself”. I gave my glow light (required due to darkness) to a small girl who told me I was a “Kona Ironman” and high fived the outstretched arms of other Iron Kids. I thanked complete strangers for their kind words; their efforts and support make a significant difference, many may not even realize their impact. I ran down the Palani hill, finally some free speed, took my last salt tablet at mile 25 and said to myself, “let’s enjoy this”. Running on pure adrenaline, I picked up my pace. Every fan would say you’re almost there, you’ve got this, and it’s just around the corner! Yet, three corners later, I still couldn’t see the finish line! The crowds grew, the music was blaring, the cheers exploded and the street narrowed. At that point, I saw a road-­‐closed sign so I screamed, where do I go? The crowd opened up a small pathway, and then I saw the Ironman carpeted chute. This was it! This was the moment I had worked so hard for! This was the moment I dreamed about! And yes, it was bigger, louder, and far more emotional than I ever imagined! It is too extraordinary to even describe. I put my arms out, glided from left to right through the finishing chute of all finishing chutes, slapping several 100s of hands amongst a boisterous crowd. The bright lights lit up the colorful flags of the countries represented in the race and then I finally saw the finish line arch, just like on TV. Wait for it, wait for it…the voice of Ironman, Tim Reilly, then said “Sandy Thompson, from Raleigh NC, you are an Ironman”. My arms collapsed around my shaking head, then I pumped them several times looking to the starlit sky. My raw emotion overwhelmed me. Yes, anything is possible! I had finally conquered my most audacious goal, to successfully race the iconic Ironman World Championships – under some of the world’s toughest conditions. This particular journey, both training and racing, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and the sweetest reward I’ve ever earned. Mentally, physically, nutritionally, and spiritually, this was the ultimate test. I put my best race together while giving it everything I had, under the hottest (in eight years) Kona conditions. I am so blessed to have the opportunity to be on the starting line with the best of the best and to also cross its elite finish line on a world stage. Less than 2% of tri-­‐athletes worldwide get such an opportunity. At the finish line, I was greeted by two volunteers, then draped in a towel and awarded a kukui nut and shell lei around my neck. I was interviewed and assessed to determine if I needed medical assistance. “Nope, I’m good, where’s my medal?” Now, I’m off to get it as well as a finisher’s hat and t-­‐shirt; aka bragging rights. I walked to the transition pier one final time, picked up my gear bags and bike and passed back through security. I finally exited the secure area and was reunited with my family. I downed a protein shake and bar for recovery, shared some stories from the day, took some family photos then started the journey back to the B&B where Rod and I watched the final hours of the race via live streaming. It was still a surreal day and moment, one I will forever cherish. I proudly wore fresh leis the next day and celebrated with my family over a nice dinner. Post Race
My family and I really enjoyed exploring the Big Island and it’s many adventures,
including: Royal Kona’s Hawaiian Luau, the Akaka Falls, the Hawaiian Botanical
Gardens, snorkeling at Mauna Lani Bay, Kai Lea South Point cliffs and coastline,
Hawaii’s National Volcanoes Park, and Horseback riding in Waipio Valley. Rod
and I also made a day trip to Oahu, visiting Pearl Harbor and seeing Waikiki
Beach and Diamond Head. We also enjoyed a variety of restaurants, appreciated
the Hawaiian culture as well as visiting with the diverse guests at Honu Kai’s B&B. I would highly recommend them if you make it to the Big Island, Wendi and Dave are world-­‐class hosts! I am thankful they too are now part of my Kona story. As always, I could never do such Endurance events without the love and support of my family, friends, and co-­‐workers as well as the many volunteers (5000+ for Kona) who support our race needs. Some additional call-­‐outs follow, thank you: Susan Kitchen – my Kona nutritionist (racesmart.com) UNC Wellness Performance Center – Swim, Bike, and Run Analysis Inside Out Sports & TLC Bikes – Mechanics, gear, group rides, tri-­‐knowledge Rod, Mom, Dave, Wendi, Aaron and Family – my Kona, hands-­‐on support crew Team Challenge Iron Team – esp. Kat Gunsur, our team manager Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation of America – my awesome charity, we will beat it! Crohn’s & Colitis: Team Sandy – my team of donators & Cisco’s matching gifts Bikram Hot Yoga Raleigh – Cindy & John – heat/humidity acclimation & recovery “My Iron” – Family, friends, co-­‐workers, fellow athletes, fans, coaches, spectators, and everyone who inspires me to be my best, I am grateful for your support. What would I do differently for Kona? I wish I could’ve avoided the “hot spots” on my feet. Guessing they were either from walking barefoot on hot pavement earlier in the week, or pushing too hard on my pedals during the high winds, or running on the long cement pier in my bike cleat shoes during both transitions. Given the location of bruises on my soles, I’m guessing it was the latter or a combination. If interested, here are my race stats as well as my 2015 Triathlon Ironman season rankings. 2015 was an amazing year for me, one I will forever cherish. No regrets! Kona IMWC Results: 2015 Season: Ironman World Athlete Rankings: Swim 01:37:05 Division: W50-­‐54 (3147) My Rank Transition1 00:07:45 Overall Position 171 (Top 5% World) Bike 06:48:30 Overall Country Position 84 (Top 2.6% USA) Transition2 00:06:54 Run 04:59:19 Total 13:39:33 I hope you are inspired to make a bigger impact in life. Find your passions and pursue them, life’s too short. Let’s keep raising our goals and most importantly, playing it forward by helping others! Thanks again for being my “IRON”! Kona is “not normal” nor I’m I! I actually enjoy taking the path less chosen as it creates new paths and new experiences. My journey to get to Kona and experience the Ironman World Championships simply tickles my heart. Anything is possible! PS – If you are curious, here’s my Kona Race Motivation List, yes, I used all seven: My Why: CCFA Find a way forward Adapt Onipa’a Stay in the moment Coop Strong “I can and I will” Mindset