YOU ARE READY! - PART 2
Denise Santos Ford
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You will walk into the water with 2500 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY long is finally here.
You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.
The helicopters will roar overhead.
The splashing will surround you.
You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.
The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the shoreline grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what happening, then you’ll head for the bike.
The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff can't wipe the smile off your face.
You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.
You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?
You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like hours. You reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.
By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today.
You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for every inch of road. The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.
Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon! You'll roll back - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise
will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back, with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.
You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike. You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts.
You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've worked for all year long.
That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good.
That's
okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just
like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the
leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't.
You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic
- this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be
sure it won't last.
You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking.
You'll keep eating. Maybe you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If
you're ahead of schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't
panic - roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for
Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning
for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By
remote control. Blindfolded.
How you react to the changes in your
plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying about things -
just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating.
Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.
You'll
make it to the halfway point. You'll load up on special needs. Some of
what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss
the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for
people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be
where
you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people
headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.
Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.
The
miles will drag on. The brilliant sunshine will yawn. You'll be coming
up to those aid stations fully alive with people, music, and chicken
soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.
You'll soon only have a few
miles to go. You'll start to believe that you're going to make it.
You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there.
Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don't want to move
anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches
you…and puts a medal over your head... all you have to do is get there.
You'll
start to hear the people in town. People you can't see in the twilight
will cheer for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them.
They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, and
when you left on the run, and now when you've come back.
You'll
enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over. You'll
be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're
lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?" You'll be
standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop, and
the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as
possible.
You'll hit mile 25. Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.
You'll
run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but you
will run. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon
you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps.
Soon
they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You'll run towards the
lights, between the fences, and into the night sun made just for you.
They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.
The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.
You'll break the tape at the finish line, 140.6 miles after starting your journey. The flash will go off.
You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly...be capable of nothing more.
Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.
It will suddenly hit you.
YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!
You are ready.
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