IMFL

I love this picture maybe the most of all of them

We finished.  I'll give a more complete report later, but thanks to everyone who tracked us online, watched the finish line camera, sent us these awesome screen shots, posted on FB, texted me, emailed, and prayed for us yesterday.  It might have been the toughest think I've ever done.  

I was so happy to get back to my hotel last night and get a hot shower.  My feet are covered with blisters...an awesome souvenir that will remind me of this race for probably another week.  But I'm glad I did it.  I'm glad it's over and that I don't have to worry about doing this anytime soon.

Here are a few more screen shots from the live finish cam last night.  Troy, Matthias, and Lance--I couldn't ask for better brothers!  You are so awesome for sending these so quickly!  I love them!  Ray Ray, thanks for your Instagram post.  I loved that one too!

Photographic evidence that I did finish the race!

World's Best Training Partner!

So glad it's over!

On Finishing...

Kailua Bay in Kailua-Kona

I've had a little extra time on my hands this week, so I went for a swim yesterday in Kailua Bay.  =o)  The picture shows where I started my swim.  This also happens to be the starting point for the Ironman World Championships.  I wanted to swim the course and I wanted "christen" my new tri shorts for the upcoming season.

As you can see the water is beautiful and clear.  You get out about 15 feet and you find yourself surrounded by fish and coral that are just spectacular.  I set my sights on a floating platform in the distance and swam.  To make sure that I swam in a straight line, I would line up the platform in the distance and then pick a spot out on the ocean floor that was in line with that distant spot.  I repeated this over and over and made steady progress out to the platform.

I later learned that the platform was about 3/4 of a mile out to sea.  The guy on the platform was a little surprised to see me so far out all by myself.  (He was also kind of a jerk since he wouldn't let me board the platform momentarily to clean and adjust my goggles due to what he called "liability reasons."  Whatever dude!)

On the way back to the pier, the strap on my swim goggles broke and the goggles came off my head.  There was no way I could fix them them in the open water, so I stowed them and kept working towards my landmark on the shore.

Without my goggles, however, I became essentially blind.   I could no longer spot landmarks on the floor of the bay and I couldn't really sight landmarks on the shore because my eyes were burning from the salt water.  I felt like I wasn't making the progress that I should have been making and a knot of panic began pushing its way up into the back of my mind.

I worried that I wasn't making progress because I was caught in a rip current and my insecurities about swimming made me worry whether I had the strength to make it to the shore.  The fact that I was nearly blind and alone in the water did not help.

My kids were waiting for me to finish

I managed a quick prayer and realized that I was strong enough--I just had to finish.  And I was determined to make that happen.  I picked out a closer, more achievable landmark on the shore and began to swim for that.  In short order, because my new landmark was closer, I realized that I was making progress.  I finished by swimming up to my kids who were busy snorkeling in the protected harbor.

I figure that my swim was probably a total of 1.5 miles and I did it in 1 hour and 10 minutes.  I have never swam that far or that long before.  I know that my time is slow, but to me the important thing was that I finished.  And I bet that the next time I do this swim (hopefully as an official participant?), I'll be faster than I was yesterday.

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Tonight, I went for a run along a portion of the Ironman course on the Queen K Highway.  I had mapped out a 10k course for myself.  What I hadn't mapped out were the seemingly gale-force winds that I ran into for the first half of the run.

A portion of the Queen K during daytime hours

It was late, dark, and I was all alone as I ran past the lava fields the line the sides of the Queen K Highway.  There were few cars and even fewer street lights.  The wind was so strong that for the first half of my run I had to strain to even hear the melody on my iPod.  Fortunately, there was nearly a full moon to guide me and a white stripe that marked the edge of the roadway.  There was actually enough moonlight for me to catch a glimpse of the massive, snow-capped peaks of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa.  (Mauna Kea is actually taller than Mt. Everest, if measured from the sea floor.)

I hit the turnaround a little behind the pace that I had set for myself--no doubt due, in part, to the strong headwind that I faced.  As soon as I turned around, however, I felt the tailwind pushing me.  Though I was tired, it was exhilarating to run with the wind--particularly after having fought it for the first part of the run.

I thought that if I ever do get to be a participant in Kona, I will likely be finishing the race late--after nightfall and I may have to face some of the same conditions (i.e. darkness, strong winds, etc.).  It may sound hokey, but it was inspiring to think about being able to finish that type of race.  If I am ever fortunate enough to participate in Kona, I know that I will not "win" the race.  But the important thing is that I will finish the race.

***********

Every Kona competitor wants to cross the finish line.

I've always considered myself a finisher.  Going for a swim workout or a run are not really all that important in the grand scheme of things in their own right.  But I like to think that if we practice at doing our best and finishing the little things, we will build up our confidence and increase our faith that we can finish the "big" things--the things that really matter in life.

I like what the Apostle Paul said: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:" (2 Timothy 4:7).  I thought about that scripture tonight as I ran (and a few others as well).

Finishing can be hard when it feels like you are blinded (whether by darkness, salt water or oncoming headlights), are not making any progress, are caught in a rip current, or are physically running into headwinds. But I believe that if we set worthy goals and have good landmarks to guide us (literally and metaphorically), we will be able to finish.  And finish strong.

If I Die Young...

I love this song by "The Band Perry"

Confronting one's mortality is not an easy task.  I still like to think of myself as being fairly young.  Heaven knows that I have a lot that I yet want to accomplish in life.  But sometimes I think about whether I'm prepared or ready to "move on"...I can't be the only one, can I?

I remember one year when I had to renew my driver's license agonizing over whether or not to check the organ donor's box.  Ultimately I didn't because I couldn't bring myself to think that I would ever "be" an organ donor.  But I felt ashamed for not checking it and I told my brother that I definitely did want to be an organ donor if I ever had the "opportunity."  (And now the blogosphere is also witness to my organ donor wishes...)

But sometimes I do think about what would happen if I had to check out unexpectedly.  In college, I would have to drive a lot between school (in Utah) and home (in California).  The drive was long.  It could be treacherous.  I often made it by myself, which can be boring, which can lead to potential disaster.  I heard enough stories of tragic mishaps to know that the drive could be dangerous.

The Famous Zzyzx Road...
This sign comes in really handy for those spirited "License Plate Games" on  family trips

One time, before I was married and had kids, I had to drive from Arizona to Utah for some reason.  I remember  thinking that I was worried about something happening, so I actually took the time to write out a handwritten will before I left.  I never told anyone about it (until now) and I have no idea where it is today.   It was a little silly because I really didn't have much in the way of earthly possessions to bequeath, but I felt like I should think about it anyway.

A few years ago, my brother wrote out some instructions, sealed it in an envelope, and gave it to me to hold--"just in case."  He asked me not to open it or read it.  I haven't.  But I still have it in my file.  S.,  I don't think you read my blog, but I hope I never have to open that letter.

While I should have a will (I don't) or better yet, a trust, I've thought about letters of my own that I should probably leave behind.  I definitely would leave a letter for each of my kids telling them what I love about them, what I hope they will accomplish, and letting them know what is important to me and my beliefs about the purpose of our life on earth.

Remember that annoying, yet addictive AOL  message?

There are other letters that I think I would regret NOT writing to friends, other family, and acquaintances.  I believe that it is important to let people know how you feel about them and I try and do that on a regular basis.

But what do you do when you can't tell them for various reasons?  And don't give me any of this "carpe diem" crap.  I know what that phrase means.  There are legitimate reasons for NOT saying things to people.  And there are some things that may be better left unsaid, even if true.  An example would be where such things, even if true, would hurt people.  And I'm not just talking about hurting people's feelings.

For example, there is someone I knew that I never really got along with when I was younger.  There was no reason for it and I wish I hadn't acted the way that I did.  But would making an apology years later really do any good?  Or would it only bring back bad feelings from the past that this person had long put behind him or her.

Another reason for not saying things to people is where telling somebody something or some piece of information would unfairly burden them.  We all have problems in our life.  Our problems are kind of like bags of trash that we have to carry around with us and it's not always that polite to go dump your trash all over someone else's porch where they have to deal with, clean it up, or otherwise be bothered with it.  Most people have enough trash/problems of their own to deal with.

"O Captain, My Captain..."

I have another letter that I've thought about writing for a while.  In my mind's eye, it is very articulate and probably too long.  But I know that it would feel good to write it.  Cathartic.  But even if I wrote it, I don't know if I could ever send it.  At least in this lifetime.

I think it might be possible to summarize the letter in a single sentence.  Coded, of course, because sometimes less is more and I think that the intended recipient would be able to figure it out.  And coded stuff is cool.  (think The Da Vinci Code or the 39 Clues series--a hit with my kids...)

Maybe I should at least get it started:

"Dear ____, I'll be..."

Anyway, let's hope that I never have worry about having it sent in the first place.  That way I won't have to regret the fact that I never finished it.  =o)

Where Are My Endorphins?

Earlier this month, I did my first marathon.  I've always wanted to do one, but had never gotten around to doing one before.  In fact, I had never even gotten close.  Now, after doing one, I may never do one again.

There are lots of reasons for runnning a marathon.  The cynics among us claim that some only do it so that they can brag about it.  Others claim they do it for the "runner's high" they experience.  Luckily, I didn't do it for either reason.  I don't feel like bragging about the experience and I'm still waiting for my endorphins to kick in!

So, in what was a not-so-closely guarded secret, I did the St. George Marathon on October 1, 2011.  Before I begin my race report, I just want to show a quick picture of what one of the winners looked like as she triumphantly crossed the finish line of our race:

It's Not Often That a Picture Captures Both the Thrill of Victory and the Agony of "The Feet!"

Honestly, it's a good thing that I didn't see this picture until after I finished.  When this was taken, I was actually probably at about Mile 18.  But more about that later.  Do people really think that this is fun?  I mean this woman actually won--the fastest female--and she looks like she is going to be "Medevac-ed" to the nearest hospital the minute she trips over the finish line!

So here's a quick summary of my first marathon:

I raced out of Salt Lake in a beater of a rental car on Friday afternoon.  With nothing but the open road and the radio to keep me company, I was looking forward to listening to the BYU-Utah State game on the radio as I traveled south.  Unfortunately, I missed all of the first half on a business call I had to make, and then I pulled into St. George on fumes as the race organizers were locking the doors to packet pick-up.  Fortunately for me, I was able to get my race packet, but sadly I managed to miss the exciting come-from-behind BYU football win!

By the time I got my "carbo-load" on and then managed to find my in-laws house where I was staying for the night it was late.  Very late.  I set about five alarm clocks before I went to bed and I needed every single one of them, as I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. West Coast time to make it to the buses for the race.

3:30 a.m. (at least in California)...It's "Go" Time...

That's not a gang sign--it's actually a secret signal I flash to my kids (a la Jeff Hornacek).  It's so secret that they may not even know about it yet.  But they will someday and when they go back and look at these race photos, they'll know that I was thinking about them.

Somehow I managed to drive to downtown St. George in the early morning and followed the masses to the buses.  While waiting for the bus, I made a few friends (most of whom were talking about the details of their last "Long Run" or marathon experience and then asked me about mine; wisely, I didn't bother to open my mouth to demonstrate my ignorance!).  Then we got to the start line and I tried to figure out how to beat the cold and kill about an hour until the race started.

Fortunately, there were lots of mylar blankets and I even managed to get some stretching in.  Then before I knew it, the gun went off.  As I made my way forward to the start line, I had my first (and only) celebrity sighting.  I looked up and there this massive presence next to me.  I was totally excited when I realized that it was former BYU football player and NFL All-Pro tight end Chad Lewis, one of my personal heroes!

I was so surprised that I said "Chad Lewis" out loud and he looked over at me.  I told him that my sister worked with him and he reminded me that I had two sisters that did.  Yay!  Chad is one of the class acts out there.

Then we hit the start line and there was no more time to worry about anything other than running.  It was still dark out and the road was packed!  I actually settled in and made really good time (for me).  I was on a solid 9:00 minute mile pace through the first 17 miles.  I felt great about that because the most I had ever run in my life before St. George had been 13.1 miles (and only 3 times).  I had visions of posting a sub-4 hour marathon time in my first time out, even though I had really done nowhere close to the amount of preparation that I should have done.

Then at Mile 17, the wheels started to come off.  I had to start walking a little, but I just kept moving.  I think my mind has blocked out how bad Miles 17-23 were.  But they were not easy.  At this point, the heat from the road was coming through my shoes and really bothering my feet.  There was also some accumulated pounding to my joints, but that was bearable by comparison.

Then I hit the last three miles.  There were definitely no endorphins to push me over this "Wall"!  It was really, really hard.  Those last three miles may have been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.  The temperature was hot (unseasonably hot according to anecdotal accounts from some race veterans) and it seemed like people were dropping like flies along the course.  I got to the last 300 yards and was in the finishing stretch when I actually started hyperventilating.  I could not get oxygen and I felt like things were starting to spin.

All I could think about was: "Don't Bonk!"  I remembered that the first marathon was so named because a Greek messenger ran from the battle on the plains of Marathon to report to the Athenian assembly of the Greek victory.  He blurted out: "We have won!" Then he collapsed and died.  I was determined to not pass out within sight of the finish line and somehow managed to get my breathing under control.

My gun time was 4:26, and I couldn't have been happier to get there!

I'm still not sure where I found the strength to raise my arms, but I felt like I should do something dramatic

Once I crossed the finish line, I collapsed on the first patch of bare, shaded grass that I could find.  I couldn't get up, despite trying a few times.  Once I did stand up, I thought maybe it would be nice to lie down on a nice bench in the medical tent.  No dice.  Apparently, having symptoms like severe nausea and having the room spinning around isn't enough to get medical attention at the St. George Marathon.  Luckily I didn't need it.

Somehow I got home and put some food on the counter to heat up in the microwave.  I thought I should sit down for a minute before heating it up.  Two hours later, I woke up--still on the couch; food still on the counter.  I guess I was a little more tired than I thought I would be!

Here are some random thoughts and insights about running the race:

• Next time I think I'll try to get more than 3 hours of sleep the night before the race.  Even worse was that I got about 4 hours the night before that.  No wonder I look so tired in all these photos!  I look like I have my eyes closed in all of them!
• My race "mentor" told me I was really dumb to get so little sleep the night before the race and even more dumb to get so little sleep two nights before.  Much as it pains me to say this, I think they were right.

• Bless the race volunteers who manned the aid stations along the way.  They were awesome!
• Bless the spectators who came out to cheer for us, ring cow bells, and encourage us.  I actually turned off my iPod a few times so that I could be inspired by their cheering.  I felt energized to give high fives to the kids along the route.  It was such a huge boost.

• There were some great, very creative signs.  On of my favorite was a series that was held up by a dad and some young kids.  I saw them at least three times in the race.  No, I was not delirious, I think that they would drive ahead, set up camp, cheer for their wife/mom, and then repeat the process.  The last time I saw them was at about Mile 22.  The husband/dad was holding a sign that said: "Now that you've done 26.2, can we work on our marriage?"  I just thought that was funny!
• Another great sign that I saw was: "Worst Parade Ever."
• No one was creative enough to come up with a sign that said: "Get the Piano Off Your Back!"

• I also learned what a "long run" is.  It's a run of about 20 miles that you are supposed to do to prepare for a marathon.  Most runners have done several of these to prepare for the actual marathon.  My longest run was 13.1 miles.  Not exactly textbook nor optimal!
• I learned that the aid stations have both vaseline (for anti-chafing) and Bengay (to help loosen up muscles).  It's good to know which is which because using the Bengay to help lube up is not a good idea!  ;)  

I believe that running a marathon can even be a spiritual experience.  It was humbling to have so many people willing to volunteer and to cheer us on.  I felt a strong sense of gratitude for their efforts.

Running a marathon can also be considered like an analogy of our time on earth.  As we dropped down into the town of St. George with about 4 miles to go, it seemed like most of the town came out to see us and cheer on friends and loved ones. As I was running, I remember hearing someone in the crowd gasp excitedly: "Oh, there he is!"  It was so spontaneous and so joyful that I got chills when I heard it.  It was also special because the voice sounded (to me) just like my Grandma D. who passed away while I was on my mission.

When I heard that woman's exclamation, I felt like I was getting a glimpse of what it will be like for us to finish our race here on this earth.  I can imagine that we will have friends and loved ones waiting to cheer us on as we near life's finish line.  They will be excited to see us returning to our heavenly home.  Just as excited as this spectator was.  I still get emotional to remember this experience and I hope that I can always finish strong--whether it be a real race or a figurative one.

At another point near the end, I saw a minivan that looked just like our minivan right along the course.  This was probably about a mile or two before the finish.  I got excited for a second thinking that maybe J. and the kids had come down to surprise me and I was looking around hoping to see or hear them.  As I got closer, I realized that the minivan looked exactly like ours, but it wasn't ours.  I was bummed.

In hindsight, I think the race went about how I expected.  Except that I couldn't anticipate the toll that running 26 miles takes on your body.  (I would definitely recommend a good post-race massage.  That helped a lot!)  The race was hard--harder than I expected, but I kept pushing forward and didn't stop.  While I may not have finished first and may have had to walk more than I liked, I'm proud that I didn't quit.  

And yes, I actually think I'll try it again next year.  I know I have plenty of room to improve!  :)

Totally Exhausted...

  (If you stayed through this "marathon" of a post to the end, you too probably deserve a medal!)