Unless you've had your head in video games all your life, you have an idea that this is a hard thing to do. It's not kind of thing you get up and say to yourself, "I think I'll do an Ironman Triathlon today." Just to outline what qualifies as an Ironman: 3.8km swim, followed by 180.2km bike ride, and to finish, 42.2km; the distance of a full marathon. (And yes, the 0.2km and 0.8km tacked on each section make a difference!)
Being a runner, I know that as exciting as the race is it's not about the finish. Oh, the finish feels good. Especially when you cross that Ironman line and they say your name followed by, "you ARE an Ironman!" I'm sure that feels pretty damn awesome. The real work is getting to the start line. Getting up in the mornings knowing you have get a run in here, squeeze in a ride over lunch, and may be a quick swim before that bedtime. It's giving up dinner plans or bar nights because you have to be up early. Time away from family, partners, friends. That sacrifice on top of the dedication and work to get your body in shape to finish even one of the portions makes it an emotional journey as well as spiritual one. It's a commitment. Almost akin to a marriage, albeit a temporary one.
Now that being said, these people are crazy. The fastest record is 6 hours. That's an insane rate of speed for doing all this, especially when you consider how hard it is to get out of a wetsuit and remove the sand from your feet before you put your shoes on. I think the majority of competitors take the day. Not 24 hours, but all the daylight. Up at dawn, start in the morning and finish sometime around your normal bedtime.
 |
| She might get mad that I picked the sweaty post-race picture. |
I could gush about her history a little and get all sentimental. She's melted herself in half. From being very overweight (I don't think she'd get mad if I used the word obese) to getting off the couch and walking into the Running Room for her first walking clinic. She's swum, spun, run and rode. She quite literally worked her ass off. That's enough sentimental. Eva's squishy, but she'd rather I move on.
The funny and amazing thing about her running that race is that so many people were with her. She had her own little cheering squad that went, but there were others back home that tracked her online and updated each other on her progress as she went. (Ain't technology fucking awesome?) Every so often a text or message would pop up on a phone or online to say where she was and how she was doing and once in a while someone would post to ask where she was on the course. Happy and vicariously running through her, it was so frustrating when I had no one to high five. (Hubby wouldn't play along.)
Even though I did nothing but watch a black screen of numbers intermittently throughout the day, I was giddy when she finished.
Good job, Eves. We are all so proud.
(And for the record, she can get out of a wetsuit and clean her feet in 8 minutes and 41 seconds.)
