Epilogue to Ironman

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

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.