Ironman Arizona Part 3: Don't Stop Believin'

I headed out of transition, crossed the mount line and hopped on my trusty steed.

I thought about the ride, not as 112 miles, but as 6 segments. Three loops. An out and back each time. With a welcoming fanfare each loop as I passed back through town. I didn't pay any attention to the miles. I just allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts and the desert scenery and the myriad of vivid images that flooded my mind.

Molly had given me a preview of the bike course a few days prior, letting me know the best spots to drop into the small ring, where the false flats were, and where to watch for wind. It was comforting having these details in my back pocket, but at the same time I knew that no amount of information could really could justice for the exchange of first-hand experience.

I cycled out onto the main drag of town and received a hero's sendoff. Cowbells. Signs. Chalk drawings on the road by children wishing us well. Cheers and music filled the air. I smiled and got to work, dropping into aero and finding my sweet spot on the road.

I took off for my first loop. I knew I wanted to start out conservatively, so I rode the entire first segment up the Beeline in my middle chainring. I was a bit surprised to find myself greeted with a steady headwind all the way up--the forecast had said 3-4mph winds from the south (which would indicate a tailwind at this juncture). The winds were strong enough just to be annoying and drop you to a snails pace on the incline. As I reached the crest of the hill that first time, a woman passed me from behind and said "You must be one hell of a swimmer" (and I laughed at just how untrue that statement was--but thanks for the boost!).

Before I knew it, I was at the turnaround and simply flew back home. Back into the big ring, hammering down the hill, tucking tight into aero, I smiled as I watched my speed spike to the upper 20's and low 30's. It felt absolutely liberating. Like flying.

And suddenly, I was back at the start. Ready to start my second and third loops. Mike and the rest of my Iron Crew cheered me on as I went blazing through, and I'd give a holler to Molly's family and friends. I was tickled pink to find that Lisa, Duane, Melissa and Robyn had joined the party on the sidelines as well. It was a relief to see everyone. The winds changed, making the rest of the ride fairly challenging. Downhill into a headwind is always frustrating, especially when you don't reap the benefits on the uphill portion.

When Molly and I would cross paths, it became one of the highlights of that loop. We'd smile and cheer for each other...and at one point I remember her yelling something about me making it look easy. I scoffed. An Ironman is anything but easy.

The second loop wasn't so bad. A quick pit stop about halfway through and a moment at special needs to refuel on the world's best cookies (thank you, Leah!! This totally hit the spot!) provided all the energy I needed to get through that third and final loop. Although by this point, I was starting to mentally struggle. You can only handle so much brown and sand. All you can do is just keep moving forward. Mile by mile. Counting cacti as you pass them by. Picking off riders one by one, as you get picked off by more experienced cyclists in turn.

When you're riding 112 miles in the desert--at a speed as blistering as mine--you've got plenty of time to think. And think, you do. About everything. Family. Friends. Relationships. Friendships. People you see all the time. People you haven't spoken to in over a year. Things that weigh on your mind find clarity. Things that were black and white talk themselves into gray. Grayness becomes certainty. It's all very dizzying. And wonderful. And fosters growth of a different caliber. At least it did for me. I allowed myself to slip into a zone of focus I don't often visit...and it helped pass the time.

When I started that third loop, as bad as I was feeling, I was clearly ahead of schedule...and it worried me a bit. Did I go out too fast? Will I blow up on the run? Why is my right foot bothering me!? etc...etc... Then I thought about something I read before the race...

If you're ahead of schedule, don't worry -- believe. If you're behind, don't panic -- roll with it.

And with remembering these important words, Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" added itself to my internal playlist for the day...

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching in the niiiiight...

Streetlight people

Living just to find emotion

Hiding, somwhere in the niiiight...

Don't stop believin'...

Hold onto that feelin'...

Don't Stop Believin' - Journey

I did the math. Calculated all the possible roll-in times. I was okay. More than okay. I was going to post a surprising bike split for my capabilities.

It's no secret that biking is my achilles heel when it comes to triathlon. I figured, the ride of my life would be right around 7:30. A normal ride would bring me right around 8 hours. And if the ride unraveled, I'd be pulling in right around 8:30 with nothing but a prayer for the rest of the race. Ever since I signed up for Ironman Arizona, that 5:30pm bike cutoff has haunted me to the point of nightmares...

When I came back in from that third loop, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion and embraced the second of three moments I'd been envisioning for more than a year. Grinning from ear to ear, I rode back into town, weaved my way into T2. Dismounted. Handed Little Red Riding Hood to a complete stranger and simply said "You can have her..."

I had done it. I had a fantastic bike and was so relieved to be out of the saddle.

Bike Time: 7:41:02 (14.6 mph)

With a new found confidence and tears streaming down my cheeks, I grabbed my T2 bag and ran into the change tent. A volunteer was quick to my side and started asking if I was okay...if I needed medical...where was I experiencing pain...apparently tears were not a normal reaction for being off the bike.

I just smiled at her and told her I made the cutoff. With more than an hour to spare. I was simply overjoyed. I was going to be running...in DAYLIGHT. Something I had not anticipated this.

She emptied the contents of my transition bag...I looked at the second set of photos Mike had snuck into my bag and read the index card I wrote to myself.

I got this.

And I knew I did...pending any major tragic throw down on the run course...I was going to become an Ironman. I did a full costume change, slipping into my favorite running shorts and top, then tied my most comfortable long sleeve shirt around my waist for when the temperatures started to fall.

I reminded myself that it was only right foot in front of left foot...repeat. The rest of this race was up to me and my two legs...I just had to keep believing...

T2 Time: 7:53