Running on empty...

I entered into transition feeling strong... to my great amazement. I had none of the back pain or tight muscles that I had experienced, or remembered experiencing, four years ago. I took off my bike shorts and put on my running tri-shorts. I also took the opportunity to empty out the back of my tri jersey of all the bike pieces- CO2 cartridges, empty wrappers, etc. - so I could start off as light as possible. I left T2 and grabbed some sunscreen and some Gatorade, and headed out on the road.

This year, the course was altered slightly at the beginning to include an out-and-back along Lakeshore Drive at the beginning AND at the end of the run. So, I was able to catch a glimpse at what finishing the race would look like in about four hours. Not only that, but Jasper Blake, the men's winner, was running down Lakeshore Drive just as I was. So, I had the lead vehicle in front of me and quite a crowd of people cheering on Jasper - that was enough to get me going, but also a little unnerving because he was finishing his run just as I was starting mine. This was, indeed, going to be a long night.

I reached the turnaround at Lakeshore and started back, catching glimpses of my mom and dad and uncle as I ran past. I was in good spirits at this point as I went up to Main Street and headed up the road towards Skaha Lake.

I had a pretty decent pace going for the first 2-3 miles, stopping at the aid stations for water and Gatorade and taking a quick sip of my Clif shots, which were mixed up in my Fuel Belt flask, which I was holding in my hand. I kept my arms moving and had about a 9 minute/mile pace for the first 3 miles. I was happy with that, as if I could keep it going I'd have about a 2 hour 1/st half.

I was becoming more aware of the heat and sun beating down on us. I hadn't noticed it as much before but it was definitely part of the race now. The wind had also picked up off of Skaha Lake and was blowing into us all, a fortunate circumstance IF that same wind would be at our backs coming home later.

I passed by Kerri, one of my Ironcops teammates, and she and I started running together a little. I was starting to feel a little of the fatigue of having rode a bike for the past 6 hours, but it didn't seem to be too much. We approached the 8-9 mile marker and I found myself walking a little more at the aid stations, maybe a little too long for comfort. As I started running again, my head got quite light, and I started to feel a little feint. I looked at my heart rate and it was not going up, but I also thought it was time to walk a little more, and run a little slower. By now my average pace was at about 11 minutes/mile.

Miles 1-5 had gone by fairly well, given all that had happened.

Miles 6-8 were starting to be a struggle. Around Mile 7 I saw Mark Shorter on his mountain bike, and said a quick hello. He rode up to me and gave me some good advice, told me to drop my arms a little and relax them, to shake out the lactic acid. And to keep my head up and looking forward. I wanted to keep my body straight. But I was definitely wasted. I couldn't walk, though, with Mark there. I had to be running with him around and that spurned me on another mile.

As I approached the 10 mile mark I was passed by Patty, and then by John F. They both were having good looking, strong days on the course. And I was excited to see them. I tried to run with John, and kept with him until the 13.1 mile mark, as we approached the OK Falls turnaround. My head was getting lighter and lighter, and I was starting to feel feint again. I stopped and walked a little. Then, when I tried to start running again, I felt that nauseous feeling, like a head rush.

Okay... Keep walking then. I thought this as I started back up the hill. I couldn't talk, really, as I was also completely out of breath. Bill, from Dean's coaching, passed by my while walking as well, and then Tavis. I was still walking. I walked by a girl named Helene, from New Brunswick, who started walking with me and told me she had actually told the race officials that she was done, but that was a while ago and, since nobody had come by, she had decided to start walking again.

We stayed together for miles 15-22. I could not talk much, and decided to abandon the Gatorade and Clif shots, and go instead for some real food. I picked out grapes, pretzels, chicken broth, etc. and just ate those at the aid stations. I needed something a little more sustainable, as I was still feeling quite out of it. One foot in front of the other, I told myself. Helene was talking and, at one point, thought my lack of response was because I wanted to be alone. Far from it, I just couldn't talk.

Ambulances and support vehicles kept passing by, and all I could think about was making sure I stuck with moving forward so that I would not become one of the many folks who would need to be picked up. And the carnage on the road, today, was massive. All told, about 400 athletes were pulled off the course. I was one of the lucky ones who kept going.

Dale, Kerry's 18 year old son, caught up to me and said he wanted to make sure he broke 14 hours. So, he sped ahead. I knew if we were going to break 14 hours we'd have to get running at some point as well. It was getting darker, and the setting sun was a blessing as it cooled the air a little, making it easier to breath and also allowing us to quicken our walking strides.

We approached the 20 mile mark and made the final decision to run from 22-26 miles. So, we gave ourselves about 2 miles to get ready for it. I was starting to feel a lot better, and the sun had gone down.

As we approached the 22nd mile, we were walking at 16 minute/mile pace. I was ready to get going, but Helene couldn't. The only thing I was worried about was passing out, but now it seemed like I would be okay, since the cooler air felt a lot better in my head and stomach. I started to jog, and mile 22 began with a slight incline. Well, it was slight if you hadn't already been out here for 12 hours. It was a little more than a slight hill for me. I picked up my arms and started taking quick running steps up the hill. My speed was increasing and I was leading a small breakaway group that had caught up to me while I was walking. I made it to the top of the hill and lost my breath again. I had to walk. So I started in, and saw my Brother, Steve, and Coach Dean, on the side of the road.

They both came up and started walking with me. Steve was on the left and Dean on the right. It was good to have them there. I kept walking as I didn't feel right enough to run yet. Then Steve ran ahead to find a phone, and Dean left to go see how others were doing. I was alone again. Helene caught up and I walked with her for a couple of minutes. Then I said "I want to run in... Can you?" She said she couldn't. Her body was falling apart. I decided I had to let her go and run the rest of the race, my way. I wasn't going to walk into town. I was going to come in running.

At mile 23, I started running again. I kept it slow and steady, and let my feeling determine my speed. But I was picking it up, and as I hit mile 24 I was in a full running stride. I was coming down Main Street and all the crowds, and those really started to pick me up again. I was running a 10k effort as I approached the left turn at Westminster Ave.

I passed people left and right, reminiscent of the bike ride, and found myself feeling incredible again. As if I had a new life. I ran down Westminster and was so excited I almost made a right turn on Martin instead of running one more block to Winnipeg. Then I saw the mass of crowds on Winnipeg Ave. I ran by and heard people shouting out my name. I don't know who was friend and who was a stranger, but I passed by the 25 mile marker with a burst of energy and speed, like no other. I ran out along Lakeshore Drive, anticipating the turnaround and longing for the event to be over. I was also looking for my family and friends on the side of the road. Last time, I had stopped to hug them.

This time, though, as I hit the turn, I saw the lights of the finish line about a kilometer away. I hadn't finished in the dark before, but I would this time. I ran down Lakeshore and saw Paul H., who started to run with me. I was in full stride and couldn't talk, so I just kept motoring towards the blue carpet. As we approached the finish I could see someone in front of me. I wanted to cross fast but I also realized I wouldn't get to finish by myself if I did, so I slowed down and let him cross, and waited for the kids to bring the ribbon across again for me. Then I walked through, and into the welcoming arms of the volunteers, there to help keep me from falling and also to make sure I was okay.

I was taken over to the finish area, where I thought for sure I'd need to lie down and get some IV's put in me. But amazingly they didn't hook me up. I did need to sit, though. I was given Gatorade and a sandwich. I was also given some cantelope. I saw "Bridge", one of the Edmonton Ironcops, sitting down on the grass and congratulated him. Then I saw a few more of the Edmonton Ironcops team. I really had felt a great bond with a lot of these guys from the Penticton weekend and the Edmonton camp, and to see them all around the finish area at the same time was special. We sat around for a few minutes and shared our war stories of the day. To be honest, a lot of it is still quite hazy for me.

But I had finished....

And I couldn't have been happier.

I came through strong in the end, but I definitely struggled for the better part of the run. I had a lot of dizziness and nausea along the way that I couldn't figure out, especially because of my burst at the final 3 miles. Something had gone wrong on my run that I would have to dissect and figure out.

But that was all for later. Now, it was time to celebrate, and to reunite with friends and family who had stuck by the entire day. I went into the transition area, grabbed my bags and bike, and headed out of transition to see my family.

And to celebrate the completion of Ironman #2.