I got up and went into the kitchen where I had laid out my bag and clothing for the day. I pulled on my heartrate monitor, my tri suit, my crocs. My bag was packed with everything except drinks. I put oatmeal to cook on the stove and prepared my eggs that would be part of my pre-race breakfast. Yummy. As it all cooked, I put ice-water in my bottle and prepared Accelerade for my Camelback. The Accelerade would be for the bike leg, the all important middle leg. It wasn't long before it was time to go and we loaded up the car with everything but the bike. The bike had been taken over on Saturday and was hanging on a rack in the transition area awaiting my arrival.

It was dark when we got to the parking lot at 5am. We grabbed my bags and headed over to the shuttle that would take us the mile to the park where we would do the majority of race. The shuttle line wasn't too bad but it was at this point that my chief supporter and I were separated. Supporters were being bussed separately. I ended up in the second bus full of athletes and Ted in the first bus of supporters. By the time these buses left the Expo center where we parked, the lines for the shuttles went as far as the eyes could see AND the line of lights of the incoming cars went even farther into the distance.

Arriving at the park at the same time as my triathlon-ing friends (who were dropped off via private vehicle), we entered the transition area to setup. 3000+ bikes filled the transition area. A few flashlights lit up different areas where athletes were setting things up. Carefully I counted ... one, two, three ... one, two, three, four ... *whew* I remembered where my bike was. I shifted things about and made room for my towel and laid out my cycling shoe, my running shoes, my helmet and gloves. Carefully I hung my camelback on my handlebars. Mentally I went through the two transitions in my head making sure I had put out everything I needed. Then I grabbed my goggles and baby blue swim cap and went to go find my chief supporter and friends.

As the sun came up on the park we waited. We walked down to the water and took a look at the buoys that would guide our swim. We walked up the hill to the place where the bodymarkers were marking the bodies of all the triathletes ... with black markers they wrote 741 on each bicep, across each thigh, and then my actual AGE on the back of my calf. I was marked! We sat and stretched and looked around. All around us ladies of all shapes and sizes were preparing for their own races. Some with local news cameras on them, some with young children attached to their hips, all with numbers written on their limbs and their ages written on their calves. There was no hiding now.

Then it was time to go line up. Ladies lined up in wave order. Each wave a little younger than the wave before. I made my way down to wave 7 after wishing everybody luck and getting my final good luck kiss from my chief supporter. I found other ladies of the right age and color swim cap (there were 6 colors caps out there) and figured I was in the right wave. Each wave consisted of about 100 women all of the same age and all with the same color swim cap (these alternated between baby blue, green, pink, red, yellow ... all fluorescent). Out in the water there were heads of different colors from the previous waves all around. You could see them all along the swim course. Kayaks and swim angels with noodles lined both edges. Before I knew it we were called to the start area and moved down into the water. We practiced repeating after the race announcer, "I am an INCREDIBLE swimmer, I am an INCREDIBLE biker, I am an INCREDIBLE runner, I am an INCREDIBLE TRIATHLETE" and the whistle blew and we were off!

Swimming in open water is one thing but this was pure chaos. There were arms and legs EVERYWHERE. You couldn't turn without hitting someone. The swimmer in front of you stopped for a moment and you ran into them, the one behind swam over you. Pure chaos. Slowly we thinned out and it became easier. Still I couldn't get into my grove. I was breast stroking more than I was free styling. I kept looking at the next buoy and heading straight to it. Girls were swimming in all directions. Than it got more crowded as we caught up with the slower swimmers from the previous wave. We turned the corner at the big yellow buoy and headed back to shore to see heads bopping in the water of all different colors ... blue, green, red, pink ... intermixed, some swimming on theirs fronts, some swimming on their sides, some swimming on their backs. Kayaks moved in and out of the swimmers giving relief to some as others swam by them. Then, all of a sudden, there was kayak right in front of me ... I paused and moved the kayak to have the paddle of the kayaker hit me in the head. A little startling but not fatal ... I kept swimming. And then the swim was over!

I crawled out of the water and into the same shore and headed up the hill. I heard my chief supporter yelling as well as other I knew in the crowd. I had survived the swim. I was dripping water and my legs felt like the noodles being used by the swim angels. Slowly I ran up the hill and into the transition area ... the counting started all over again. Then I was jogging with my bike ... out on to the road and past the orange line before we could mount. I almost fell over getting on my bike but I jumped on and waved to my chief supporter before heading off on the 12-mile course around the lake.

Biking I felt strong. We had done this course in training so I knew where I could push and where I had to slow down. I knew that the end would have all the hills and would be brutal before the run so I pushed hard in the beginning. Spinning the big ring on my bike, I spoke words of encouragement to all the ladies that I passed as well as to all those ladies that passed me. I huffed and puffed up the hills and thanked my spin class instructor for teaching me to get out of my saddle for the steepest parts of the hills. I sang to myself and out loud at one point because it had become the mantra in my head. Each hill was longer than I remembered but I continued to push. On the second to last hill, I passed my friend Gail and talked to her for a minute before pushing the rest of the way up the hill. The final hill took it's toll and I shifted down into my granny gear for the first time during the ride; I was making good time. Than turning the corner it was back into the park and back into transition where I quickly switched to my running shoes and left my biking gear behind.

As I left on the run, I looked at my watch and almost cried. I had only been going for 1:20 ... I could do this thing in less than 2 hours! "Breath ... you're not done yet", I told myself and took off on my run. Slowly the legs quit feeling like bricks and took on the feeling like they could run this course but unfortunately my chest felt tight. I couldn't breath. I kept trying to pick up the pace and kept struggling against the choking feeling in my chest. I was being strangled. I ran up the power-line hill and managed to wave and smile at my friends that were there yelling and taking pictures. I headed down the hill and into the woods where I figured I had to do something about the strangling feeling on my chest. I reached in and pulled my heartrate monitor down around my waist and then reached up and unhooked my bra. Okay ... strangling feeling better ... I walked for a while to recover. The hill came and there was a water spot. It was hot so I poured the water over my head ... felt better. Down more hill and more water over my head. Then I could see the dam hill that would make up the last mile of the run. I looked down at my watch ... I had 11 minutes to beat the 2 hour mark. Slowly I started to run. Then there was MY running angel. Another athlete walking up the hill with "43" written on her calf. As I ran up to her I said "43 rocks, come on if I can do this, you can do this" ... slowly we ran/walked up the hill. We would run together for a while and she would stop to walk, then I would stop to walk, then she would come up beside me and say "come on" and we would run together again.

At the top of the hill and half a mile to go ... 7 minutes. This was still possible. I said goodbye to my new friend as she stopped to walk to recover. It took all my resolve to keep running. The last mile was hell except for all the people standing along the course screaming for everybody. They inspired me. I kept running. I felt like I was dying but I kept running. Ah ... the finish line ... ah my friend Vera ... ah my chief supporter ... at long last, the mats that indicated that I had done it! I reached down and hit my watch ... 1:57!!! I had done it ... and I had done it in a time that I would never had thought possible when I decided to do this event 6 months previous. I burst into tears sobbing. Volunteers asked if I was okay ... I nodded weeping. I saw my chief supporter and called to him over the fence. There we stood in an embrace as I finally quick crying. Other friends came and patted me on the back. My angel on the run came by and we both hugged and cried. I don't even know her name! I had become a TRIATHLETE!!!

The rest of the day was filled with alternating feelings of joy and awe. My chief supporter bragging to anybody we talked to. Joy as I watched the friends that I had trained will for all these months finish the line. Joy as I saw old friends that I had not talked to in months, even years, finish. Hugs all around. Hugs and stories with other ladies that had faded numbers on their biceps at Shady Grove for our post-race feast. I don't know what the lasting effects of this will be ... but I'm sure there will be some just as finishing a marathon or completing the 3-Day have had. Only time will tell.

But this I can say ... if you've ever given it a thought ... IF I CAN DO IT, YOU CAN DO IT!

Picture links
Maria's photos on smugmug.com
Audra's photos on flickr