“When you have completed 95 percent of your journey, you are only half way there.”

Part Two [more to come!]

It was time.

I said my final good-bye to my family and set off into the water, for what would be, a very long day of racing.
It may have been a mass swim start for two races, but I never thought about the number of athletes that were in the water with me. I placed myself up near the buoys, simply because I was one of the first people in the water. I didn't look back...  not literally, not figuratively. The race was about to start.

I'm just going for a swim....

I made my typical last minute adjustment to my goggles... safely. Since the water in the choptank is shallow enough to stand. there would be no drowning as I whipped away the fog today.
I eyed up the first buoy.

I had read that the first 200 yards are the most important in finding your place with the faster swimmers [although I would not consider myself one of them], and to give it your all. I figured I would give it a shot....

I glanced at my watch.

7:04.

We were a few minutes late to start... but just as quickly as I wondered when the buzzer would sound, we were off. The water tossed and turned as I was being kicked, punched and swam over from every direction. Ignoring them the best that I could, I gave it my all as I bee-lined to the first buoy.

"They don't call it the Choptank for nothing"

The current was stronger then it was yesterday during my practice swim.

My wetsuit felt tight, my neck felt constricted, and I didnt know how long I could breath that way.

... My large buttocks felt buoyant ... too buoyant... I thought an onlooker may have thought there was a water creature trailing me.

It took a good while for the crowd to break and to get into a good groove, but once I did, I felt good. I relaxed... and with that - so did my body... and my wetsuit [!!]

At times, the rising sun and the waters chop made spotting the next buoy difficult. I felt strong though. I felt strong in my stroke and I felt strong in my direction to staying on course... despite the current that never seemed to work in my favor. The chop was much greater then it had been during any other swim I completed in this water. It would crash into my face when I came up to breathe, and I was always pushing through it. I found comfort in the sudden drop in water temperature... we were nearing the starting point. Loop 1 of the 2 loop swim was done.

1.2 miles, finished.

"I had already decided that for this race, I would do it different.

I was going to smile."

When I got back to the buoys that marked the start of the second loop, I looked up on the shore as I took a breath. I saw a sea of neon yellow.... I saw my family and friends.

I paused.

I stood up.

I smiled.

I waved.
and I started to swim again.

I figured they hadn't see me, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't think it was me - they wouldn't expect it. But I thought one more wave wouldn't hurt.
I paused.

I stood up.

I smiled.

I waved.
Now it was time to race again.

I didn't look at my watch to see what my time was so far, I didn't look in front of me, I didn't look behind me. I looked at my family, and continued on.
[It wasn't until 2 days later that my dad admitted that he saw someone wave, but he didn't think it was me until I had mentioned it to them. He didn't expect it from me, but he also didn't expect me to be done the loop in the time that I did... and to be in the pack where I was].

At around mile 2 I had a slight shot of anxiety. The person that was cruising on my left for a good while ...the one who at least made me feel comfortable in knowing that if I was at the back of the pack and if I were to get DQ'd, that he would go down with me ... that person, was now in front of me. At this time, I tried to catch a glimpse of what was behind me so I could get an idea of where I was ... to know if I needed to pick up my pace or not this last .4 of a mile.

I didn't see anyone.

To be safe, I cranked it up. I got back to the guy and I caught up to a group.
Suddenly, I felt pain. The guy in front of me had given me a swift kick to the chest. The air blew out of me and I took in a big gulp of water. There was no time to drown and I quickly got my composure again.
Bodies started to swim over top of me, and the water was soon cold again. I was at the swim finish.

I had a smile on my face from the moment I stepped up from the water because I knew I had made the swim cut off [of 2:20] which, for some reason, had been my biggest worry. I had done the swim in 1:30 at the pool.. I knew I could do it.. but I still feared I wouldn't. Not making the swim would have been the most devastating situation.

Walking caustiously up the boat ramp so that I did not slip, I reached out for the hand of a volunteer. Once I was on steady feet I checked my watch.
My smile grew bigger.
I finished in 01:20.

It was at this moment that I knew the day was mine.

Crowds of people cheered as I stripped off my swim cap and goggles, and as I ran up to the tranisition area for my bag, out of the corner of my eye, I saw neon yellow.
My smile grew bigger still at the sight of my family.

Inside the changing tent I dried off and lubed up.. ;) .... and after slipping on some socks I was off and heading to my bike ... which was conveniently racked right next to the spectator fence. Everyone was right there, right next to me, and for once - I loved it.

Excitement filled the air and I tried my best to take it all in, but it was hard. I was on top of the world.
"I'll be back soon, I'm just going on a short bike ride"

... I wasn't cursing at my time, showing my frusteration to those around me or throwing food at my family.
I joked.
I was enjoying the moment.

I mounted my bike with a lot less trouble then I typically do in races.... and despite having some issues with my cleats recently, I didn't let it stress me out. I knew I would get it once I was on my way.

It was now me and the bike for the next 112 miles.

I'm just riding my bike....

I imagined myself just doing another century ... which was easy since I had done 3 in the last month [a great decision, I think].

... but I was cold. Goosebumps covered my body and I shivered from the inside out. I thought that I just needed to get moving, but the warmth never came. My feet went numb.
Perhaps I should have changed post swim afterall. I'm just so used to warmer air temperatures and the relief that the cold water brings that I decided not to.
I was hoping for the overcast to disappear and for the sun to come out - maybe that would help.

At mile 32 I stopped at the rest stop. After seeing someone fall at the first one while he tried to grab a bottle from a volunteer instead of stopping, I figured the risk wasn't worth the few seconds you would save ... besides, it was also time for my first port-a-pot stop. No peeing on my bike, at least not this early [and actually never].
I was also hoping that if I stood on my feet that I would get some feeling back in them.
There wasn't much time to diddle dally around though - there were still 80 miles to bike.
.... and 106.2 miles to the finish line.

At around the 40 mile mark, everything changed - the conditions got annoying.

I would say the the crosswords were horrendous, but that would be an understatement. Overtime, it became mentally defeating. You keep your head down and you push through, hoping that at every turn there will be a relief... one that never came.

I gripped a little tighter.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another though. For a few miles there was a really craptrastic stretch of road. It felt as if you were riding over a rumble strip that never wanted to end.

I gripped even tigher.

I looked forward to reaching the high school where all my friends and family were now waiting. Remembering to just make small goals, getting here was now my next one.

With my feet still numb I decided that at the high school I would stop to remove my socks and try to massage them warm. I felt losing this time was more beneficial then continuing on how I was. By now, as I wiggled my toes for each mile after mile trying to get feeling, I began to worry about how this would effect my run. I wondered how my calves, which are prone to cramping, would hold up if my didn't get my muscles warm as my toes were already cramping inside of my shoes.

... and you know... I might as well enjoy some cookies while I do.

The school should have been approaching, but it still seemed like I was riding in the middle of no where. It had to have been close... I knew it had to be.

Did I miss a turn?

Suddenly through the silence I heard the faint sound of music off in the distance. I was near.
The music grew louder and along with it, were cheers. Turning the bend I saw the flags, I saw the school.
I heard, the cowbell.
It was Jared.
He ran me into the special needs section and grabbed my bag for me... He was now an honorary volunteer without the official shirt :) I asked him where everyone was, but he told me that I wouldn't ask that once I got to the top of the hill.
Wishing they were there talk to [but probably better they weren't because it would have been harder to leave], I immediately sat down to remove my shoes. Jared kept me company as I sat there rubbing some feeling back into my [digusting and awful looking] feet.. or at least trying to. [Sorry you had to see them!] We discussed how brutal the wind was, and he comforted me by telling me that everyone was saying that. It wouldn't just be me being deflated by mother natures torture.

I finished up my packet of amazingly delicious Nutter Butters and slipped into the port-a-pot as Jared gave a quick call to my cheerleaders letting them know I would soon be there <3

Jared was correct. I wouldn't be asking where everyone was once I got to the top of the hill... for as I made my way out of the parking lot for the final 46 miles, I saw my mom..  and just past her, I saw everyone. It was nothing but yellow - and my support group had continued to grow!

They had signs, they had horns, they had cowbells.

They were the loudest spectators around... although I am sure it helped that by this hour they were three sheets to the wind after a morning of boozin' :)

If there is something bigger then I smile, I was now doing that.

I passed a volunteer on my way out. She said They must really love you. 

... They do [!!!]

Turning out onto the road I was trying to soak up everything I could.

Hold onto what you can and just pedal....
I have this.

I was expecting a break from the wind since it wasn't present during this section on the first go around - but there wasn't. The wind would be with me for a majority of this loop.
Too be honest, I didn't really think about much during the ride.
I thought about my feet, which were still numb ... I thought about my awesome new Adamo Time Trial bike seat that caused no pain to my lady bits... and I thought about the obnoxius wind that was up in my face in every sense of the way. But I wasn't seeking ways to pass the time like I did on my centuries.
I was never hurting... never miserable, I never had a desperate need or desire to get off my bike... and at no point on this ride did I talk to a fallen banana peel in an English accent.
I truly was enjoying what was.

I thought about everyone. I thanked everyone.
I thanked the supporters along the course who were there for other athletes, because whether they know is or not, they help me too. One person in particular was a husband who held a gigantic sign that pictured his three children. He was there for wife, their mother. He positioned himself along the bike course at 2 or 3 different locations, so by the end, I had passed him a handul of times [it made me think of the Subaru commercial Moral Support ]. I couldn't help but smile big every time I passed.

As athletes, we put a lot of hard work and dedication into a race - but we aren't the only ones. Those that come out to support us do too [and not just for a 140.6, but for any race]. This day in particular, though, I knew had to have been a long day for them. They not only take the time to make signs and shirts, and to buy anything and everything that makes a sound - but they sit there for 10.. 13.. 17 hours waiting to see you for 5 seconds as you pass by. They wake up just as early on their day off, and are out there all day, just to see you for 2 minutes.
That kind of love brings tears to my eyes.

That is what I thought about.

The silence was once again broken by the distant sounds of music and cheers. I eased up my gears and upped my cadence... it was time to get my legs ready to run.

Going around the curve there was a familar sound.

The cowbell.

I knew that Jared was there to run me in again :) 

My face lit up as I cruised into the bike finish ... surprised yet again, to see that my support team had continued to grow during my second loop. It was probably a good thing that I was on my bike because I would have been speechless. The amount of in-person support I received this day was astounding. I had hoped people would come, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would have as many people as I did with me on this day. I felt loved. I knew I was.

I could see a disaster forming, though, with the combination of whobby legs and numb feet trying to get off my bike without face planting myself into the cement.

Please don't fall....

I would like to be able to say that I was able to make a successful dismount before running into the changing tent ... and whereas I did manage to get off my bike without falling, I would not characterize the movement of my legs as running.... It was more like a waddle turned walk when I realized that anything quicker was out of the question.

I had estimated my bike time to be 7:00:00.

It was 6:53:06 - with my [self done] foot massage

Now, there was just a marathon to go...