Race Review -- Run and Finish
Once on Main Street, I messed with my Garmin a bit to get it going. I was wearing it for no other reason than to not be stupid; that is, I wanted to keep a careful eye on my pace for the first few miles, as I have a tendency to let my adrenaline get the best of me and go out way too fast. I looked down and saw that I was right on track at about 9 minute miles. At this pace, my legs felt surprisingly fresh. The crowd support on Main Street was phenomenal -- blasting music and cheering like crazy for all of us who had just started our long journey towards completing the marathon.
Not too long after exiting transition, I saw my dad and Colby waving wildly. I blew them a kiss and tried to take everything in -- the roar of the fans, the history of the Olympic Center (where The Miracle happened in 1980), and the feel of running the marathon leg of an actual Ironman, which I had been dreaming about for so long.
Not quite a mile out of town, the crowds began to thin out quite a bit, and to my horror, my iffy stomach turned into a major problem. My original plan and goal was to only walk through the aid stations on the run, just enough to grab some sort of hydration and nutrition at each one. When I reached the first aid station just before the mile marker, my rebellious stomach wouldn't let me reach for anything but water. I didn't walk, but ran right through, taking only a couple of sips of water before pitching the entire thing into the nearest garbage can. I started to really get concerned and prayed specifically that my stomach would feel better -- and soon.
By the time I reached a mile and a half, I was really hurting. I felt like throwing up might be a real possibility. It was decision time. Still praying that my stomach would feel better, I reached for a small Ziploc bag that I was carrying that contained 20 salt pills and a wallet-sized picture of my kids -- the same one taped to my handlebars during the bike. Seeing those kids, I started to cry -- but just for a second. I made the decision right then and there that nothing was going to stop me from finishing this.
When I reached the second aid station, I slowed down and reached for a glass of Perform (which is Ironman's version of Gatorade). I forced it down, then immediately grabbed for some water too. I took two salt pills out of the baggie and tried not to gag as I swallowed. As soon as I cleared the aid station, I began to run again. But, I was feeling dizzy and cold -- I was in big trouble.
God answers prayers. You know that, right? I had been praying for so long that God would make my stomach feel better. This is how I envisioned it happening: miraculously, all of my stomach problems would disappear and I would finish the race gobbling down fruit, chicken noodle soup, and whatever else they offered on the course. I would eat three pieces of pizza at the finish line and talk about how God cured me on the marathon course.
God's plan was to make me puke my guts out. Right there on the course, about mile 2.
I bolted to the side of the road and threw up everything I had worked so hard to put in my stomach during the bike. My sides heaved and I hunched over shaking and hurling for a good long time right there on the side of the road, wondering when it would ever end. I even soaked my right running shoe in puke.
When I thought I had nothing left inside of me, I uncurled myself and walked back to the road. My first thought was to be embarrassed. Then, I realized that nobody had the slightest clue what I had just done -- they were all too caught up in their own misery to notice me.
My second thought was to realize that I felt better -- a LOT better. I actually laughed out loud as it dawned on me that God had decided to help me, although not at all in the way I had imagined. I broke out into a run with tears streaming down my face. I pulled out my Ziploc bag and kissed my kids. It was at that moment that I knew I was going to finish. If I could make it this far, there wasn't anything that was going to stop me now. I held that picture in my hand for the rest of the race.
Just a ways down the road, I saw Tara Costa from the Biggest Loser on the side of the road, cheering us on. Tara completed the Ironman in Kona last year, and I found her whole journey so inspiring. I also loved Tara on the show because of her tenacious competitive fire, so it was totally awesome to see her in person. I was so surprised to see her there within a few feet of me that I couldn't even say anything to her -- and as you can see from these posts, I am not exactly a girl of few words! Plus, I was totally terrified that I smelled like puke and I didn't want to gross her out.
I made it to a group of people around mile 3 who had dragged out some giant speakers out to the road and were blasting Andy Grammer's "Keep Your Head Up", which is like one of my favorite songs ever. I couldn't help myself -- I took a second to dance around with them and got a lot of cheers and high fives.
I stuck to the plan of walking the aid stations, but my stomach was still only allowing water at this point. I wondered if I would be okay, calorie-wise, but I told myself just to go easy and stay hydrated. I hit the first timing mat and in my head said "hi" to Colby, who I could picture hunched over his iPod, anxiously awaiting for my split time to show up. I was sure that with the unexpected pit stop he would be worried about me.
Before I knew it, I was at the last aid station before the turn around. I was surprised that we were turning around before mile 6, but just tried to think positively. The shorter the distance out here in the middle of nowhere, the longer the distance in town along the second turn around -- and the more opportunities to let the cheers and support of the crowd carry me along. At this aid station, I decided to try some pretzels. My stomach agreed with the pretzels and for the rest of the race I had a plan -- pretzels and water at every aid station.
On the way back into town, I found myself getting stronger with every step and had to resist the urge to take off. I relaxed into a steady, easy pace and took some time to look around an enjoy the scenery. I had a mile or so to gawk at the ski jumps again:
Then, I made the turn onto a really cool bridge over a river. After crossing the bridge, there was a huge hill that everyone was walking up. I didn't go too nuts, but I did run up that hill, talking crap to it the whole time: "You call yourself a hill? You are a pitiful excuse for a hill!" Hey, I've never been very good a talking trash, but it felt good.
At the top were two very drunk younger guys with no shirts and clown wigs. When they saw me running up the hill, they went absolutely ape-crazy! They made me turn my number so they could shout it out and gave me lots of high fives and pats on the back as I ran through. I was laughing so hard that I almost couldn't answer them when they asked if they'd be seeing me again (on the second lap). But I yelled out "Yep!" before they were out of earshot. Their reply was to cheer and say "All right, see you soon, 483!"
I was nearing town and the second turn around. At this point, the crowd was really gearing up for full party mode. Restaurants were blaring out music -- everything from the Rocky theme song to Guns 'N Roses "Welcome to the Jungle". It was fun and I flashed the biggest smile I had to every one I could see.
Before reach Main Street, there's a huge hill before turning left for the second out and back. I saw my dad and Colby going bonkers and gave them a huge grin while powering up that hill. After turning left, the hill just kept going, but I wasn't going to stop, not with all those people cheering for me. Turns out, all I had to do was not walk up the hill to impress people. I got wild cheers from everyone lining the chute through town and comments like, "Looking good, girl!" and "You look so strong!" I even had a guy run beside me on the other side of the chute, yelling to everyone, "WE'VE GOT A RUNNER HERE FOLKS! LOOK AT HER GO! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THIS ONE!" There were lots of people who wanted to get high fives and I stuck out my hand for anyone I could find. It was amazing.
I looked out to my left after the crowds thinned out a little bit and saw Mirror Lake, looking all calm and totally recovered from the mass of swimmers who churned the water up earlier that morning. I couldn't believe that just that day I had been in that lake swimming the 2.4 miles. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
I got to the turn around and headed back into town flying high. I once again saw the evil signs: one pointing left saying "SECOND LAP" and the second saying "FINISH". But this time I didn't let it get me down. I knew in a short time I'd be right back here. The next stop was the finish line! I was getting so close! I made the turn and was officially half-way through.
On my way back through town, a huge group sitting near a pub decided that my new nickname was "Crazy Pants" (I had on my zebra-striped Under Armor compression capri-pants). For a couple of minutes, all I could hear was "GO CRAZY PANTS!" and I just laughed and high-fived all of them as I ran through.
I saw my dad and Colby again who ran next to me for a minute, asking anxiously how I was doing. I told them that I was doing great and told Colby that I puked a lot at the second mile. He laughed loudly. Then, he told me it was only 7 and that I had plenty of time and to BE CAREFUL. I assured him that I would, then left them to tackle the rest of the lap. I welled up because they looked so darn proud of me. The whole day was pretty emotional, but the second lap of the run course I was pretty much fighting back happy tears the whole time.
I stuck to my plan of pretzels and water all the way out to the first turn around. I started ignoring my Garmin completely and just ran however it felt good to run. On the second lap, I had the opportunity to fully appreciate some of the volunteers at the aid stations. A couple of them had decided to "theme" their stations. One of the ones on the first out-and-back was a Red Neck Trailer Park, where most of the volunteers were wearing flannel shirts and telling Red Neck jokes. Another was the North Pole and I got to give Santa a high five after he handed me a glass of water.
I was passing people left and right and feeling good about the work I was doing on the run. I went up the giant hill again and got some good cheers from the guys in the clown wigs, who I'm fairly convinced had no recollection of the spectacle they made of me the first time through. Especially since after all of the high-fiving and back-slapping they asked if they would see me again. With a grin, I told them I was on my last lap.
The sun was starting to go down, so I took of my sunglasses and put them on top of my visor. I started to countdown the miles. Only 6 miles between me and my dream. Only 5 miles between me and my dream. Only 4 miles between me and my dream. The realization that I was so close helped me pick up the pace despite the growing stiffness and soreness in my legs. By the time I got into town, I felt like I was flying.
The party in downtown Lake Placid was in full swing when I arrived, and I couldn't stop smiling. With just over 2 miles to go, I decided to bypass the aid stations and just get done as soon as I could. I got a lot of comments on my smile and how strong I looked, and I think this is the thing I am the most proud of about the whole day. I was the girl who looked happy and strong out there. I was the girl who ran up the hills everyone walked. I was that girl.
When I got to the final massive hill before the out and back I got to see my dad and Colby one more time. This time, they ran up the whole hill with me, encouraging me and telling me how close I was. With a hug, they told me they'd see me at the finish line.
One more time, I made the turn to the second out and back, knowing it was short and sweet. I was greeted with cheers of "GO CRAZYPANTS!" and gave out high fives to anyone who wanted them. I made the turn around flying high, laughing, crying, and smiling all at once. This time when I saw those signs, I blew through them and found myself in a chute -- the finish chute! I rounded the curve, and was blinded by the bright lights of the finish line. In a daze, I threw up my hands as I heard Mike Reilly shout, "Alaina Sharp from Albion, Michigan... YOU. ARE. AN IRONMAN!"
I was smiling and crying even more as I RAN across the finish line and was greeted by -- you guessed it -- an awesome volunteer who gave me a hug and placed the hugest medal I've ever seen around my neck. She asked how I was feeling. I said "Unbelievable!" She laughed and asked if I needed anything. I told her I was all set and she offered to walk with me for a little while just to be sure I was okay. When I made it all the way to the end of the finish line area, she congratulated me and left me to find Colby.
I pushed my way through tons of athletes and families until I saw Colby, who was standing by the fence looking for me. I called out, "Colby!" He turned around and gave me the most unforgettable smile. Then he and my dad ran over and we all hugged each other, crying happy tears.
I have never felt anything like crossing the finish line that night. I was so happy, so proud, so thankful, so blessed. I chased my dream and at 9:01 on July 22, 2012, I captured it.
It was the best day.
IRONMAN FINISH: 14:01:09
Not too long after exiting transition, I saw my dad and Colby waving wildly. I blew them a kiss and tried to take everything in -- the roar of the fans, the history of the Olympic Center (where The Miracle happened in 1980), and the feel of running the marathon leg of an actual Ironman, which I had been dreaming about for so long.
Not quite a mile out of town, the crowds began to thin out quite a bit, and to my horror, my iffy stomach turned into a major problem. My original plan and goal was to only walk through the aid stations on the run, just enough to grab some sort of hydration and nutrition at each one. When I reached the first aid station just before the mile marker, my rebellious stomach wouldn't let me reach for anything but water. I didn't walk, but ran right through, taking only a couple of sips of water before pitching the entire thing into the nearest garbage can. I started to really get concerned and prayed specifically that my stomach would feel better -- and soon.
By the time I reached a mile and a half, I was really hurting. I felt like throwing up might be a real possibility. It was decision time. Still praying that my stomach would feel better, I reached for a small Ziploc bag that I was carrying that contained 20 salt pills and a wallet-sized picture of my kids -- the same one taped to my handlebars during the bike. Seeing those kids, I started to cry -- but just for a second. I made the decision right then and there that nothing was going to stop me from finishing this.
When I reached the second aid station, I slowed down and reached for a glass of Perform (which is Ironman's version of Gatorade). I forced it down, then immediately grabbed for some water too. I took two salt pills out of the baggie and tried not to gag as I swallowed. As soon as I cleared the aid station, I began to run again. But, I was feeling dizzy and cold -- I was in big trouble.
God answers prayers. You know that, right? I had been praying for so long that God would make my stomach feel better. This is how I envisioned it happening: miraculously, all of my stomach problems would disappear and I would finish the race gobbling down fruit, chicken noodle soup, and whatever else they offered on the course. I would eat three pieces of pizza at the finish line and talk about how God cured me on the marathon course.
God's plan was to make me puke my guts out. Right there on the course, about mile 2.
I bolted to the side of the road and threw up everything I had worked so hard to put in my stomach during the bike. My sides heaved and I hunched over shaking and hurling for a good long time right there on the side of the road, wondering when it would ever end. I even soaked my right running shoe in puke.
When I thought I had nothing left inside of me, I uncurled myself and walked back to the road. My first thought was to be embarrassed. Then, I realized that nobody had the slightest clue what I had just done -- they were all too caught up in their own misery to notice me.
My second thought was to realize that I felt better -- a LOT better. I actually laughed out loud as it dawned on me that God had decided to help me, although not at all in the way I had imagined. I broke out into a run with tears streaming down my face. I pulled out my Ziploc bag and kissed my kids. It was at that moment that I knew I was going to finish. If I could make it this far, there wasn't anything that was going to stop me now. I held that picture in my hand for the rest of the race.
Just a ways down the road, I saw Tara Costa from the Biggest Loser on the side of the road, cheering us on. Tara completed the Ironman in Kona last year, and I found her whole journey so inspiring. I also loved Tara on the show because of her tenacious competitive fire, so it was totally awesome to see her in person. I was so surprised to see her there within a few feet of me that I couldn't even say anything to her -- and as you can see from these posts, I am not exactly a girl of few words! Plus, I was totally terrified that I smelled like puke and I didn't want to gross her out.
I made it to a group of people around mile 3 who had dragged out some giant speakers out to the road and were blasting Andy Grammer's "Keep Your Head Up", which is like one of my favorite songs ever. I couldn't help myself -- I took a second to dance around with them and got a lot of cheers and high fives.
I stuck to the plan of walking the aid stations, but my stomach was still only allowing water at this point. I wondered if I would be okay, calorie-wise, but I told myself just to go easy and stay hydrated. I hit the first timing mat and in my head said "hi" to Colby, who I could picture hunched over his iPod, anxiously awaiting for my split time to show up. I was sure that with the unexpected pit stop he would be worried about me.
Before I knew it, I was at the last aid station before the turn around. I was surprised that we were turning around before mile 6, but just tried to think positively. The shorter the distance out here in the middle of nowhere, the longer the distance in town along the second turn around -- and the more opportunities to let the cheers and support of the crowd carry me along. At this aid station, I decided to try some pretzels. My stomach agreed with the pretzels and for the rest of the race I had a plan -- pretzels and water at every aid station.
On the way back into town, I found myself getting stronger with every step and had to resist the urge to take off. I relaxed into a steady, easy pace and took some time to look around an enjoy the scenery. I had a mile or so to gawk at the ski jumps again:
Then, I made the turn onto a really cool bridge over a river. After crossing the bridge, there was a huge hill that everyone was walking up. I didn't go too nuts, but I did run up that hill, talking crap to it the whole time: "You call yourself a hill? You are a pitiful excuse for a hill!" Hey, I've never been very good a talking trash, but it felt good.
At the top were two very drunk younger guys with no shirts and clown wigs. When they saw me running up the hill, they went absolutely ape-crazy! They made me turn my number so they could shout it out and gave me lots of high fives and pats on the back as I ran through. I was laughing so hard that I almost couldn't answer them when they asked if they'd be seeing me again (on the second lap). But I yelled out "Yep!" before they were out of earshot. Their reply was to cheer and say "All right, see you soon, 483!"
I was nearing town and the second turn around. At this point, the crowd was really gearing up for full party mode. Restaurants were blaring out music -- everything from the Rocky theme song to Guns 'N Roses "Welcome to the Jungle". It was fun and I flashed the biggest smile I had to every one I could see.
Before reach Main Street, there's a huge hill before turning left for the second out and back. I saw my dad and Colby going bonkers and gave them a huge grin while powering up that hill. After turning left, the hill just kept going, but I wasn't going to stop, not with all those people cheering for me. Turns out, all I had to do was not walk up the hill to impress people. I got wild cheers from everyone lining the chute through town and comments like, "Looking good, girl!" and "You look so strong!" I even had a guy run beside me on the other side of the chute, yelling to everyone, "WE'VE GOT A RUNNER HERE FOLKS! LOOK AT HER GO! MAKE SOME NOISE FOR THIS ONE!" There were lots of people who wanted to get high fives and I stuck out my hand for anyone I could find. It was amazing.
I looked out to my left after the crowds thinned out a little bit and saw Mirror Lake, looking all calm and totally recovered from the mass of swimmers who churned the water up earlier that morning. I couldn't believe that just that day I had been in that lake swimming the 2.4 miles. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
I got to the turn around and headed back into town flying high. I once again saw the evil signs: one pointing left saying "SECOND LAP" and the second saying "FINISH". But this time I didn't let it get me down. I knew in a short time I'd be right back here. The next stop was the finish line! I was getting so close! I made the turn and was officially half-way through.
On my way back through town, a huge group sitting near a pub decided that my new nickname was "Crazy Pants" (I had on my zebra-striped Under Armor compression capri-pants). For a couple of minutes, all I could hear was "GO CRAZY PANTS!" and I just laughed and high-fived all of them as I ran through.
I saw my dad and Colby again who ran next to me for a minute, asking anxiously how I was doing. I told them that I was doing great and told Colby that I puked a lot at the second mile. He laughed loudly. Then, he told me it was only 7 and that I had plenty of time and to BE CAREFUL. I assured him that I would, then left them to tackle the rest of the lap. I welled up because they looked so darn proud of me. The whole day was pretty emotional, but the second lap of the run course I was pretty much fighting back happy tears the whole time.
I stuck to my plan of pretzels and water all the way out to the first turn around. I started ignoring my Garmin completely and just ran however it felt good to run. On the second lap, I had the opportunity to fully appreciate some of the volunteers at the aid stations. A couple of them had decided to "theme" their stations. One of the ones on the first out-and-back was a Red Neck Trailer Park, where most of the volunteers were wearing flannel shirts and telling Red Neck jokes. Another was the North Pole and I got to give Santa a high five after he handed me a glass of water.
I was passing people left and right and feeling good about the work I was doing on the run. I went up the giant hill again and got some good cheers from the guys in the clown wigs, who I'm fairly convinced had no recollection of the spectacle they made of me the first time through. Especially since after all of the high-fiving and back-slapping they asked if they would see me again. With a grin, I told them I was on my last lap.
The sun was starting to go down, so I took of my sunglasses and put them on top of my visor. I started to countdown the miles. Only 6 miles between me and my dream. Only 5 miles between me and my dream. Only 4 miles between me and my dream. The realization that I was so close helped me pick up the pace despite the growing stiffness and soreness in my legs. By the time I got into town, I felt like I was flying.
The party in downtown Lake Placid was in full swing when I arrived, and I couldn't stop smiling. With just over 2 miles to go, I decided to bypass the aid stations and just get done as soon as I could. I got a lot of comments on my smile and how strong I looked, and I think this is the thing I am the most proud of about the whole day. I was the girl who looked happy and strong out there. I was the girl who ran up the hills everyone walked. I was that girl.
When I got to the final massive hill before the out and back I got to see my dad and Colby one more time. This time, they ran up the whole hill with me, encouraging me and telling me how close I was. With a hug, they told me they'd see me at the finish line.
One more time, I made the turn to the second out and back, knowing it was short and sweet. I was greeted with cheers of "GO CRAZYPANTS!" and gave out high fives to anyone who wanted them. I made the turn around flying high, laughing, crying, and smiling all at once. This time when I saw those signs, I blew through them and found myself in a chute -- the finish chute! I rounded the curve, and was blinded by the bright lights of the finish line. In a daze, I threw up my hands as I heard Mike Reilly shout, "Alaina Sharp from Albion, Michigan... YOU. ARE. AN IRONMAN!"
 |
| Crossing the finish line in my crazy pants -- still have the baggie with the kids' picture in my left hand too. |
I was smiling and crying even more as I RAN across the finish line and was greeted by -- you guessed it -- an awesome volunteer who gave me a hug and placed the hugest medal I've ever seen around my neck. She asked how I was feeling. I said "Unbelievable!" She laughed and asked if I needed anything. I told her I was all set and she offered to walk with me for a little while just to be sure I was okay. When I made it all the way to the end of the finish line area, she congratulated me and left me to find Colby.
I pushed my way through tons of athletes and families until I saw Colby, who was standing by the fence looking for me. I called out, "Colby!" He turned around and gave me the most unforgettable smile. Then he and my dad ran over and we all hugged each other, crying happy tears.
I have never felt anything like crossing the finish line that night. I was so happy, so proud, so thankful, so blessed. I chased my dream and at 9:01 on July 22, 2012, I captured it.
It was the best day.
IRONMAN FINISH: 14:01:09
Comments
love you & am SO proud of you sister!