Monthly Archives: October 2015

Epilogue to Ironman

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Are you tired of hearing about my Ironman experience yet? No worries! We’re almost done.

People ask me  questions like: WHY I did it, WHAT  I learned, How did I feel the next day, and,  Now what? That’s the most popular one.

Before I tackle those questions, I want to tell you a secret about what happened after the race. That big, glorious smile I sported while crossing the finish line and posing for pictures with my family didn’t last very long.

One more finish photo, with Jeff. He got to place my medal around my neck.

One more finish photo, with Jeff. He got to place my medal around my neck.

Immediately after crossing the finish line, I found myself extremely thirsty, and had to keep moving. Standing still made the nausea and dizziness worse. So I paced, and laughed, and tried to burp and make myself feel better. Jeff, my kids, and SheriAnne all surrounded me and we celebrated. Mostly, I just kept repeating, “I can’t believe I did it.” After a half hour or so, we decided to round up my bike and transition bags and go back to the hotel to relax. On the walk over to the bike, it hit me. I HAD to sit down. Dede and Jeff went to get my bike, while I sat, more or less, on the sidewalk and faded…

The security is fantastic at Ironman, and I am thankful for that, and they won’t let anyone without the proper ID remove bikes from the corral. When they wouldn’t release it to Dede,  she came and helped me walk. We got the bike and started off toward the car. I couldn’t do it. I had nothing left in me, and had to sit down, and down I went-right on the concrete. I was oblivious to the throngs of people walking around me. Dede helped me over to a huge cement block and sat me on it, so I could put my head between my knees, and feel better. A volunteer tried to get me to go to the medical tent, but the concept that I would walk back there was laughable at this point. Dede is a nurse, so I figured she would know what to do. At one point, I caved and asked her to go get a wheelchair so I could get back to the medical tent, and she took off. A few minutes later, Jeff came back and said that he would help me to the car, and take care of me. I tried to stand up, and that’s when it happened.

Puke. Puke shot everywhere. Violent, wrenching, LOUD puke. (Oh, how I didn’t want to get it on my nice white running shoes.) Puke with the force that curled my toe nails. All the while, Jeff just stood there waiting for it to stop. His kind, loving words: “What did you eat that was SOLID?” LOL. What a guy.

FRITOS! That’s what did it. Fritos corn chips at mile 56 on the bike. Ice tea, too. What was I thinking? This stuff had stayed in my stomach for 60 miles on the bike, and 26.2 miles running. Not anymore!

Once I finished, Jeff helped to to the car, where Mike and Audrey had already loaded my bike and gear. THANK YOU! They asked me if I wanted to be alone and just meet up in the morning, but I didn’t want to miss any time with them.  Jeff and I got to the hotel first, and I crawled through the lobby, looking like a dying crack head. On my way to the shower, my body decided it wasn’t finished emptying itself, so I enjoyed another round of deep dry heaves. Lovely. I showered and got in my jammies, and my kids arrived with SOUP AND PEDIALYTE!!! Glorious recovery magic. After sipping both, I came back to life within minutes, and we ended the night celebrating until almost 2am.

4 hours later, I was up and getting ready to go back to the Expo to enjoy shopping at the Ironman finisher’s tent.

Yay, cool finisher's jacket.

Yay, cool finisher’s jacket.

Later that day, while Jeff worked, the kids and I went to lunch.

Oh, is that a DIFFERENT finisher's jacket?

Oh, is that a DIFFERENT finisher’s jacket?

What a weekend. I felt great. Ready for another day of fun!

I didn’t go on this Ironman journey just for fun. I had teamed up with Zero to raise funds and awareness for Prostate Cancer research. My boyfriend Jeff, is currently battling this disease. I had no idea that one in 6 men will be diagnosed in their lifetime. 33,000 will die this year in the US alone. Did you know that a simple blood test is all you need to determine if you have the disease? If caught early, it has a 100% chance of being cured. BUT, if caught late, there is no know cure. MEN: get tested!!! If you would like to make a donation of any amount, and help fight this horrific disease, please do so here: Zero the End of Prostate Cancer.

One more thing about Jeff. His cancer medication has side effects, one of which is a weakening of the bones. Recently, Jeff found out that he has a fracture in his pelvis. He has what he calls “Episodes”. These can come on slowly, and last up to 2 days, or quickly and last several hours. The pain can be overwhelming. He manages to survive these episodes and come out fighting.  He still kept training for this Ironman. He had a stellar swim and bike, but the run became too painful, and he made the decision to stop after the first 13 mile loop, and wait for me at the finish line. What a guy. I can’t say enough about his strong will to beat this disease. I know he will. Oh, and he’s doing another Ironman in Arizona in November! I’ll be there, volunteering, and cheering him on….which lead me to…

I’m signing up to do Ironman Arizona next November. YES! I HAVE to do this again. Now you know the answer to “What’s next?” Oh, I’m sure I’ll have moments of doubt again, but they won’t last, because I know I can do this, and I now know how much fun it can be.

I won’t bore you with the “What I learned about myself…” subject, because I’m still learning, and most of what I learned is for me alone to know.

I am ever grateful to my kids for surprising me. I am in awe over Jeff, for keeping the secret. I’m thrilled that my coach SheriAnne was present to see the fruits of her coaching. And in the end, I’m proud of my accomplishment….and my bravery, or stupidity, for doing this:

Yes I did

Yes I did

As always, thanks for joining me on my journeys. I love your feedback and comments. Did you know you can subscribe to my blog?

 

 

 

Ironman. It Happened. Part 4

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After grabbing my transition bag and running into the tent, I told myself that I had to take my time here, and not rush. Never mind that I had just completed a 116 mile bike ride, that was the PAST. Now it was time to carefully, expeditiously prepare for the marathon, and  earn my new, coveted title, IRONMAN.

So there I was, entering the tent to change into my running gear, suck on my Albuterol inhaler, and carefully prepare my feet and toes with moleskin, so that I could not only endure, but ENJOY the final 26.2 miles of this incredible day.

Dump out the bag, take off bike helmet, shoes and socks, take off all my clothes, put on new, dry clothes, dry my feet, apply 3 strips of moleskin, change my socks, put on running shoes, visor, sunglasses, and down a bottle of GenUcan. THEN run outside and use the porta potties. This took FOREVER! 9:13 and I was off. Just outside of the tent, before I hit the course, I saw my kids, waving and yelling my name. I ran over to them, and gave them all a huge hug and kiss. I was surging with adrenaline. I ran out the exit, down the path, turned around and started running the course…UPHILL. Yep, the mean people at Ironman love to throw hills at you when you least expect it. Just then, I saw Mike (my son) running down the grass, encouraging me, and smiling ear to ear. Nothing could have made me feel better! I knew I was in for a long afternoon, so I relaxed and just started running, with no stress on how fast I was going.

My “loose” plan, was to run to an aid station (one at every mile), walk through the station, then run to the next. The first few stations came and went more quickly than I imagined. Within what seemed like minutes, I was at the 3rd one. My body felt great, but my right foot didn’t. The blisters were already roaring at me. Knowing I had 22+ miles to go, I played it safe and stopped, took my shoes off, and inspected my feet. Sure enough, there were three ugly ones’s already forming. I asked a volunteer for some tissues so I could pop them quickly, clean them and get on with my run. I got up and headed out. I managed to rally for a while and enjoy the scenery.

Feeling great early on.

Feeling great early on.

I continued my plan of running to the next aid station, and started partaking in the “water, no ice” offerings. I had my nutrition loaded into my back pockets, so I never accepted any of the Gatorade, Gu’s, potato chips, fruit, coke or chicken broth, although I did have a few grapes along the way.

Coming up on mile 8 or 9, I had to stop again, to adjust my socks, and try to calm down my feet. It was starting to warm up considerably, so I also grabbed 2 ice-soaked sponges at each aid station-one to  tuck in the front of my shirt, and one to tuck in the back. These sponges were absolute life savers.

A few other things started happening about this time. I got my first wave of Nausea. Since I had my Base Salt vile tucked into the leg of my tri shorts, I started taking some, and this quelled the nausea. I also started to walk more often, since the running jostled my stomach too much. My spirits were still high, though and I never let a negative thought enter my head.

The scenery along the river was SWEET

The scenery along the river was SWEET

While crossing over the river to the hilly side of the course, I saw my coach, SheriAnne, on a bike. She rode next to me for a while and we talked about how I was doing so far. I told her about the blisters, and nausea, and that, despite these things, I still felt great and was enthusiastic about finishing strong. I think she was not prepared to hear that, based on some of my recent race challenges!

The miles on the other side, are pretty brutal. Up, down, long slow up, short down, rollers, and then Up up up, down, and across the river, to pass by the finish, and start the second loop all over again. They positioned the “Bike Special Needs” aid station just after you start the second loop. By now, I wasn’t feeling so great, so I only ate a small portion of the Fritos, and took some sips of GenUcan. I was a little unsteady on my feet at this point, and the volunteer cheerfully held me up, while I paced in circles around him.

Off I went for round 2. By now, the nausea was taking it’s toll. I tried to use the salts regularly, and it helped stave off the inevitable.

Where is that Salt vile?

Where is that Salt vile?

Oh there it is!

Oh there it is!

Walk, jog, walk, jog…just keep going. Faster. Take a break. Ask for band aids, drink water, walk, jog….at the second bridge crossing, I saw my kids again, and I was running! Seeing them motivated me to keep going! They repeatedly told me how proud they were, and that was enough to shove the pain back into the recesses of my head. Once I got into the hills again, I conserved my energy, and did a lot of power walking. I kept looking at my watch, however, because, while I had no reference point for really setting a hard time goal, I did hope to finish in under 14 hours.  I stopped at an aid station around mile 22 and asked for some mole skin. A runner shouted, “I have some!”, and gave me whatever I wanted. By now, I knew it was only a short time before I would hear my name at the finish.

I’d like to say that I rallied and ran my heart out at the end, but at mile 25, I was toast. I actually accepted a cup of coke, hoping to stop the desire to throw up all over the place. One sip told me that was not a good idea, so I just kept going. By this time in the race, I no longer had the energy, or ability to smile, thank people, or be in any way jovial. I stopped looking volunteers in the eye. A nod and a “thumbs up” was all I could muster. Heading across the last bridge was quite the experience of torture.

Ohm, it's getting ugly now

Oh, it’s getting ugly now

My emotions all surfaced on this bridge and I started crying. Spectators yelled my name, told me how awesome I was, called me “Ironman”, told me how strong I looked, and basically carried me the entire distance. I knew they had been out here for HOURS, doing the same for every athlete that passed. You have no idea how that felt. I still get chills!

Within minutes, I was rounding the last turn, and heading towards the finisher’s chute. Me, 56, late-blooming athlete, novice triathlete, a nobody, with asthma, bunions, GI issues, and a lot of self doubt, finishing an Ironman. 144.3 miles, to be exact! I can still hear the crowd. I can still see the blinding lights. I can still hear SheriAnne and my kids screaming my name,and I can still see Jeff standing at the finish line, waiting for me. Most of all, I can still remember hearing, “PATTY BROCKMAN, YOU. ARE, AN. IRONMAN”,

I can see the finish line

I can see the finish line

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My official time 13:37:55. 15th in my Age Group

My official time 13:37:55. 15th in my Age Group

Jeff  me my medal and  my kids and SheriAnn showed up and gave me all the love and happiness I could handle. what a day. What an experience. What an accomplishment. Pinch me.

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There are no words. There will never be words enough. However, there is more to the story, if you care to check back.

Thank you for taking this journey with me.

 

Ironman. It happened. Part 3

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To convey what went through my mind as I ran my bike out of transition, is as easy as it would be to  describe how someone would drink an ocean. One sip at a time? There was an urgency, yet there wasn’t. This was going to take HOURS, so how would I manage that urgency? For reasons mentioned in previous blogs, and more, I hadn’t ridden more than 75 miles in my training cycle. On my new bike, only 30. I didn’t know what was to come, other than the distance. Ironman bike distance is 112 miles. Chattanooga Ironman is 116. Maybe that makes this an “Ultra-Ironman”.

After mounting my bike, I hit the button on my Garmin, and it should have switched to the cycling mode, but it didn’t. I’m so OCD that it drove me crazy to think it wouldn’t track correctly, so for the first mile, I screwed around with the damned thing, ultimately deciding to close down the “triathlon” mode and switch to the “bike” mode. Sure, I lost some time, but at least I got it to work, and then I forgot about it. I put my head down and pedaled on. The first part of the race consisted of a few hills, and several turns, as we made our way out of the neighborhood, and out onto the open road. My bike felt good, and I settled in for a day of sight seeing. Several people gave me advice before I attempted this, my FIRST Ironman. Most of the advice went like this: “Relax and enjoy the experience. Take in every sight and sound, and don’t stress on your time. Just stay in the moment…” I thought I would do that exact thing…..until about mile 5. It was at that time that I sensed the “other Patty” come to life. You might know her. Fiercely competitive. Wickedly insane when she races. Is commonly seen yelling and singing at the top of her lungs while racing. Yeah, that’s the one.  “Sister, if you don’t leave it all out here, you will be ashamed of yourself, and beat yourself up for the rest of your life! Get your ass MOVING.” So I did. I didn’t give a crap if I dropped dead.

WOOHOO

WOOHOO

The course is  11 miles out, a 47 mile loop that you ride twice, and then 11 miles back into town. There is a 4400′ total elevation gain. My first 50 miles, I averaged 18.41 Mph. the first 30 were mostly uphill. I don’t know how I held that pace up some of those hills, but I did, and I was maniacally happy. I played leap frog with a few cyclists and got frustrated with a few more. At one point, I called out to a guy blocking the passing lane, and I think I scared him. I never saw him again.  I hated seeing people in front of me! The second half of the loop is all rollers. When I say rollers, I mean steep, out of your seat on the way up, and short not so steep on the way down. The downhills were never long enough to give you a good recovery. Her’s what it looked like:

bike.

Oh sure, the hills look small when spread out like this.

I remember as I  struggled up a long, relentless hill,  thinking, “Oh God, this is gonna suck the next time around.” I’m pretty sure I shouted that out to a few people as I powered passed them on the way up. I stuck with my nutrition plan, alternating between GenUcan and Cliff Bar Organic Energy food packets. I also had Base Performance Salt in a vial that I tucked into my cycling shorts, and took hits off of that periodically. I took in an average of 110 calories per hour. Everything worked like a charm.

The on-course support was over the top. Volunteers and spectators kept our spirits up, and while I didn’t partake in anything from the aid stations, I made sure to smile and thank everyone as I sped by.

The Special Needs stop was at around mile 56 in the historic town of  Chickamauga. People were EVERYWHERE, cheering us on. The efficiency of the volunteers, with calling out our numbers, and directing us to our bags, stunned me. Within seconds after entering the area, a volunteer handed me my bag. I had a brilliant idea of filling it with Fritos Corn Chips and ice tea. The crunch of the salty chips was Heavenly after only consuming liquid and gel-like food all day. The ice tea gave me a nice caffeine boost. I shoved as much as I could handle down my throat and tried not to stop for too long. In minutes I was off again, fueled and ready for another lap. As it turns out, I made a second stop at the next aid station, to use the porta potties. As much as I don’t object to peeing on the bike, I just didn’t want to and quite frankly, felt the need to get off the bike and stretch the legs a bit. There was a line, so I lost some time here. The athlete tracker shows that between mile 50 and 75, I had slowed to 14.86 mph. Stopping does make a difference! I got a little tired at this point too, as the hills were starting to hurt.

OK, this might just suck right about now.

OK, this might just suck right about now.

1155_024317

Why are you taking my picture?

I got a second wind and between miles 75 and 97, I averaged 20.12 mph. I did the second loop and never even noticed that big hill I was worried about! At mile 100, I started experiencing pain in my left knee. Deep, sharp pain. It came out of nowhere, but it had happened at Lake Stevens 70.3, and I was not looking forward to the next 16 miles. I made sure to press my knees in tight to the bike, to take pressure off of the IT band. “One more hour” I kept repeating to myself. OUCH! Oh man, at mile 110 the knee AND foot were now in terrible pain. I had to stop using the muscles in my left leg, and only pedal with my right leg several times, just to give it a break. “Where did this wind come from? Oh God, it’s hot. For Heaven’s sake, I don’t remember this road being so long on the way out!!! WHERE is the freaking finish?” I wasn’t really discouraged though, because I knew I was near the end of the course, and the pain would stop as soon as I got off the bike.

Coming into transition, I dismounted and handed my bike off to a volunteer. Let me tell you, there really is no sane reason to sit on a bike for 116 miles! Time 6:46:22.

As I ran through the transition area, I saw my kids!!! They were yelling and smiling, and jumping up and down. I was on top of the world again.

Heading into the tent to change for the run.

Heading into the tent to change for the run.

I only had a marathon to run, to earn the title “Ironman”, and nothing would stop me from doing that today!

To be continued…

Ironman. It Happened. Part 2

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Dede arrived at 4:20 am to drive us to the event. I don’t remember anything about the ride, except the part where we missed the exit and had to back track. I was numb; shell shocked to put it bluntly. As we approached the check in, the pre-dawn darkness couldn’t cloak the energy pulsating from the excitable crowd of athletes, spectators, and volunteers. I couldn’t see a thing, but managed to give my “Special needs” bags to the right volunteer, and then made my way over to my bike to make last minute inspections, and place my water bottles in the cages.

 

Where's my bike?

Where’s my bike?

Another stop to add a few items to my T1 and T2 bags, and there was nothing left to do but wait for the start.

I got in the porta potty line to “unload” some of my stress, and then headed to the shuttle buses. The buses took everybody up river to the swim start, 2.4 miles away. While most people excitedly chatted, I sat in my seat, looking out into the dark morning, and quietly wept. I was afraid. I was afraid of failing, of disappointing myself, my kids, my coach, my team, Jeff, and all of the people that follow and support me. Could I do this? By the time we arrived and entered the long line of competitors waiting for the swim start, I had calmed down a LOT. There was no turning back now.

I look a tad bit freaked out

I look a tad bit freaked out

Waiting sucked. I started to get impatient, and didn’t like standing around long. Once the race officially started, the line began to move. We were way in the back, so we started almost 30 minutes after the first people hit the water. As I was pulling up my wet suit approaching the dock, I broke out of my haze, and started really breathing for the first time all morning. I took a few quick pulls on my asthma inhaler, tucked it in the front of my suit, and moved forward. All of a sudden, I found myself walking down a plank and realized, “Holy shit, we have started!” Jeff and I smiled at each other one more time and then SPLASH- in we went. The water felt unbelievably perfect. All week long the current was the topic of conversation. This day the current wasn’t strong at all, but it was a down stream swim, so we definitely got some help. I had been worried about the swim all Summer. I never swam 2.4 miles before the race. This day, though, I had the most perfect swim of my life. Sure, some typical swim things happened-I got kicked by a breast stroker, got my goggles knocked off once, had to dodge a few zig zagging swimmers, and such, but I smiled the whole time. I swam most of the distance with only one eye open because my left goggle kept filling with water.  In no time at all, I was nearing the exit, and I never tired once. All systems a go!1155_006647

 

After I exited the water, I ran across some grass, where  there were volunteer “Wet suit strippers”. It’s hilarious. You run up to a stranger, throw yourself on the ground, and they pull your wet suit off of you. Royal treatment. Next I ran to grab my T1 bag and head into the women’s changing tent.

Wet suit in hand. On to the bike.

Wet suit in hand. On to the bike.

This is where things got gooey. Inside the bag was all of my bike needs: shoes, socks, cycling shorts, top, sunglasses, helmet, saddle cream, and my nutrition for the first half of the bike ride. I had 2 packets of Justin’s Nut Butters sitting inside my helmet. I dumped everything out of the bag, pulled off my wet clothes and got into my cycling clothes, put on my socks, and shoes, and then noticed something on the top of my shoe. It looked like  poop. WTH? I let it go. Then I grabbed my sunglasses and helmet and just before I put the helmet on, I always double check to make sure I don’t put it on backwards. (Yes, I have seen it happen) I looked inside it and was convinced someone had taken a dump in there! WHAT IS GOING ON?

It was then that I remembered that I had cut open a small slit in the nut butter packets, to make it easier to eat it on the bike-without having to bite it open while riding. Well, the chocolate hazelnut one somehow had exploded all over the place. There was no way I was going to put that oozing mess on my head and ride for 116 miles. Thankfully, the wonderful volunteers had a table with some baby wipes on it. A gracious lady grabbed the helmet from me and cleaned it out as quickly as she could, while she and I laughed our butts off. All of this took some time, and I had a very slow transition of over 12 minutes. I am sure my kids all thought I must be taking a nap or something.

Leaving the tent, I had to run to get my bike and then take it to the exit before mounting. I had had a stellar swim, and now I was off to ride 116 miles of Tennesee countryside and I had no idea what to expect. I heard there were some rollers…..

To be continued.

 

Ironman. It Happened. Part 1

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If you have been following my blog, you know that I have had some interesting hiccups leading up to Ironman Chattanooga. (Catch up here) The jinx continued as we prepared to ship our bikes. We contacted FedEx and made arrangements to have them pick up our boxes at the house in Montauk the day before we flew to Tennesee. We used my dad’s account number for convenience. When the driver hadn’t shown up in the given time frame, I got worried. Then my dad called and said he arrived at home, IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, to find a note from FedEx on his door, telling him that they had come by for a pick up. Oh boy! Now we were left with figuring out how to get the bikes shipped, and we were supposed to head into the city that night to stay with my daughter before going to LaGuardia early the next day. SCRAMBLE!!!

At the same time, I contacted the Jitney, to make reservations for an evening ride into Manhattan. I was told that there were no seats left on ANY of the buses that day. WHAT? Are you kidding me? Another reason to send me over the edge. The short answer to how we solved this last flurry of “oops’s” was this: We rescheduled FedEx, skipped the visit to my daughter’s, and reserved seats on the 4:15 am Jitney for the next morning. Oh, yeah, and there was a car that I also had to take to the local shop for repair to deal with as well. The day turned into a blur, but we managed to make it to the airport the next morning, with several hours to spare.

 

I found these at the airport. Thought about buying it for the race.

I found these at the airport. Thought about buying it for the race.

Arriving in Chattanooga, I was struck by how small the airport is. We quickly got our bags, and walked up to the Hertz counter, where the most delightful woman set us up with an SUV, gave up a free upgrade, and threw in a few other perks. The process was quick and easy, and we were on our way to the hotel. Jeff got us a room at a Residence Inn, so we could have a full kitchen. Eating the way you are used to is VERY important before a race, and we wanted to have full control over this detail. My bike was waiting for me when we arrived, and we piled everything into the room, and headed off to the Expo.

How much crap does one need?

How much crap does one need?

Athlete check in was quick because the bulk of racers hadn’t arrived yet. We got some great swag too.

This is really going to happen!

This is really going to happen!

My coach, SheriAnn was there, working a booth for NormaTech,, and I got to try the boots out for the first time. PURE HEAVEN. After checking out the vendors, we headed to the grocery store and then back to the hotel to unpack and settle in.

If you EVER get a chance to try these out, you will love them.

If you EVER get a chance to try these out, you will love them.

Friday we went back to the expo and it was raining. It was a soggy mess. Later we brought my bike to a shop to have them put it together and make sure everything was ready for the race. Jeff picked up the bike he was borrowing from a friend there, as well. Naturally, there had to be another “Uh oh”, as we discovered that the wedge that holds the bike seat in place was missing. As I got back in the car to drive back to the hotel, I was stunned. Kind of in a daze, actually, trying not to cry. Trying not to throw up. I hoped and prayed the entire drive that the wedge was somewhere in the bike box. To my extreme relief, it was. So, BACK to the shop I went, and within minutes, we wheeled our bikes out, and headed back to the hotel.

Saturday morning, the rain was pouring down, and while we intended to try out the river before Sunday’s race, I was not interested in doing so in the cool, crappy weather. I opted for a swim in the indoor hotel pool. We then drove to the Expo and checked our bikes and transition bags in,triple bagged because it was still raining. Mid day, we went to meet with the other athletes that also had partnered with Zero, the Prostate Cancer charity. We had a yummy lunch and shared our excitement and nerves, about the next day’s adventure. The rain had started to subside as we headed back to the hotel for the final preparations, and to rest.

It was inspiring to meet other athletes that raised money for the cause.

It was inspiring to meet other athletes that raised money for the cause.

Within seconds of entering our room, Jeff said, “There’s a knock at the door.” I didn’t hear it, but went to the door anyway. I opened it, and nobody was there. I think I was about to tell him he was hearing things, when the knock came again. So I opened the door, and to my absolute and complete shock, my son Mike was standing at the door. All 6’5″, 200+ pounds of him: grinning from ear to ear. Behind him, were BOTH of my daughters, Dede and Audrey, all sporting huge smiles. I can’t tell you how surprised and completely happy that moment was for me. they had flown in from Minnesota, New York, and California! THIS was the best and most precious moment. Of course, I cried, and laughed, and hugged them tightly. WOW, they came to support me. I was over the moon. Once the shock wore off, we hung out and had fun, just being together.

THIS is how I still see them sometimes...

THIS is how I still see them sometimes…

The "Kids" done growed up!

The “Kids” done growed up!

After the kids left, (LOL, kids. All adults, over 5’10”, with careers, and their own lives, and I still call them kids) we put the rest of our race nutrition together, and talked about our hopes for the next day. Mostly, I hoped it wouldn’t rain-at least until the run. When I went to bed that night, I felt nervous, scared, excited, and vulnerable, but most of all, I felt loved. We set the alarm for 3:15 and tried to get some sleep. Let’s just say that we didn’t need the alarm. Ironman Chattanooga, Patty’s coming to get you…..