| I finally turned onto the road that would take me back into the city of Clermont and the transition to the run. Pulling into the transition area was a wonderful feeling. The great volunteers were waiting, and one immediately took my bike while another went to grab the bag with my run gear. I slowly walked into the changing tent and took a seat. The final twenty miles on the bike were succinctly summarized by a fellow competitor in the changing tent, �All I could think of was getting off that damn bike!� When he uttered this he was greeted by a chorus of agreeing grunts from the bent forms lining the walls slowly changing into running clothes. By this time I had been competing for seven hours and forty-one minutes � almost as long as I spend at work. Although very sore, I was feeling pretty good. I�d been able to take in lots of calories on the bike � the nutrition plan for the run was to stick to liquids and an occasional gel � no more solids. I planned on consuming as many calories as I could for the first half of the run, and hopefully that would pull me through. Coming out of the transition area I saw Lisa, Byron, and Joseph. It was great to see a familiar face after over three hours of nothing but asphalt and triathletes� butts. We chatted for a bit, and then it was off for a marathon. Beginning the marathon of an Ironman is interesting. On the one hand, I was so glad to be off that bike, and over halfway done with the race. On the other hand, I was beginning a marathon after swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112. I�d run my first marathon, the Air Force marathon, last November and remembered how hard it was � and that was starting fresh! My plan was to start slow and taper off. I�d walk a minute at each aid station, located a mile apart. The run course began with a five mile winding route through residential roads and ended with three seven mile laps of Lake Minneola, site of the swim course. The first five miles were hilly; the three lake loops were relatively flat. It was a good course for spectators, as they could find a spot around the lake and see the runners pass by three times. The biggest hill came between miles two and three. It was very steep, and between a quarter and half a mile. Running up was out of the question, and even walking up was tough. An aid station was at the top, and here I received a big boost. It began normally enough, getting two cups of sports drink and a gel, and then getting a water to pour over my head. I said thanks to the volunteers, and then started walking on. All of a sudden I heard �Hey, where do you think you�re going.� I just walked on, first because my brain was working pretty slowly be this time, and secondly because I figured it must be some aid worker who was trying to sneak a break. A few seconds later I heard, much closer this time, �I�m talking to you!� I turned around and was surprised to see one of the aid station volunteers jogging towards me. I started going through possible reasons for this: had I dropped something? Am I going to right way? Do I look so exhausted they are going to make me rest for awhile? Turns out it was none of these. The volunteer, who incidentally was a very attractive young women, put her hand on my shoulder and said, �The women of this aid station just wanted to let you know that we rated you a five out of five among all the men we�ve seen today.� This caught me by surprise, and I didn�t know what to say. We just stared at each other for a few seconds. My brain was trying to process, but the blood was in my legs. I finally mumbled, �Uhhh, thanks.� She gave me a pat on the back, a beautiful smile, and said �Good luck,� before jogging back to her post. I was floating on cloud nine for the next two miles. The aid stations on the run were incredible. Many had themes, including �Marathon Key,� designed as a resort. The volunteers were in tropical garb, and tropical music was blaring from a stereo. One station had a gigantic sharks mouth to run through, another had a DJ playing dance music, complete with strobe lights. There was a patriotic aid station and one with a hippie theme. A local college sorority sponsored a station staffed by sorority members wearing only bikinis. Many stations had the race program and would look up my number and cheer me on by name, which was encouraging. The aid stations were all stocked with water, sports drink, pretzels, popcorn, trail mix, chicken broth, gels, and a few other goodies. I have never before seen such well-stocked aid stations staffed by such enthusiastic and professional volunteers. The run went well for the first ten miles. Stomach was okay, peeing a lot (good sign for hydration), sticking to the walk/run plan. At mile twelve I saw my cheering team and spent a few minutes chatting. They had written lots of encouraging messages in chalk on the trail, including a saying that jokingly referred to my Australian heritage, �Cooper, Australian for MAN.� All of these silly little things went a surprisingly long way in encouraging me. Also at mile twelve I got to access my special needs bag. I had a fresh pair of socks to change into, as mine were quite sweat-soaked. I also had stashed a little note of encouragement. The next lap was the lowest time of the race. I was physically beat, and hurting in numerous places. The sun was setting. There was still 14 miles to go. I wasn�t close enough to �smell the finish,� as they say. The walks were increasing in duration. At about mile 14 I started to consider walking most of the rest of the way. However, I�d heard that all Ironmen reach this point sometime during the run, and the advice was, as mentioned above, press on and you�ll feel better. I didn�t think this was possible, but just looked down and reduced running to its basic form, focusing my mind to �Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.� Miles 16-19 were the worst, an agonizing valley of despair along lonely, dark country roads with only with thoughts of self-doubt for company. I thought only about getting to the next aid station, just taking it one mile at a time. Mile 19 brought me back to my cheering squad, which put a smile on my face. After chatting for a few minutes, I got to my special needs bag for another sock change and my last note. As I sat in the chair, not wanting to get up, I read what I had written the day before, which was essentially a reminder of all the training and dreaming that had gone into the race, and how I was now seven miles from earning the title I�d proudly have for the rest of my live � Ironman. |