I would love to run through the whole race experience for you and walk you through all of my feelings and what was happening at any given time, but that is not why I was there, and that is not why you are here.
There was a craziness in the air for the whole week. We went to spend some extra time in Denver with family. It was fun, but all of my events were overshadowed by the looming uncertainty. I was distracted. I did my absolute best to be present for as much as I could, but it was nearly impossible. We did some touristy things and family things, we had fun, but as much as the race was a distraction, we were also missing one little boy who would have loved everything that was going on.
Missing Carson is no longer something new, but it was definitely magnified over race week. We all knew what drove me to be in Boulder. We knew what drove my training. We knew what was going to push me through 140.6 miles.
Over the day, I was feeling good. Up at 2:30ish and grabbing a coffee. Got everyone ready and transition opened up at 4:00 I think. Buses took us out to the lake. I was antsy, I was uncomfortable, I had to pee. I had been slamming water all week in an effort to at least start the race hydrated. I guess it worked!
I made it through the swim and transitioned to my bike. The transition took a little longer than planned, but it was a welcome sit. I got slathered with sunscreen, gave the family kisses and hopped on my trusty steed. I felt great and talked with Carson and prayed for a long time. There were big hills, there were little hills and there were false flats.
As I approached one intersection I saw firetrucks and an ambulance go across the road and stop shortly after that. Course attendants ushered us around what appeared to be a bike crash. Later in the day, I would find out that we lost an Ironman that day. Her name was Michelle and she was from a town near North Platte, NE, where I live. I will be running in her memorial triathlon this coming year.
About 70 miles into the bike, I started to feel awful, my body didn't want to put any food or water in, but I forced it. I knew that I was putting forth lots of energy and needed to reload calories as best I could. I think maybe I overdid it a little.
Coming into T-2 I was wasted. I saw my parents at the transition and I heard my mom say, "this isn't good." My dad also said, "Call Julie". I was a hurtin unit. I wasn't stopping. The volunteers at the transition tent basically dressed me and got me on my way. They were so encouraging and nice. I couldn't think.
As I left T-2, the only thing on my mind was not giving up, there is a little boy who is pushing me all the way to the end. I felt terrible, eating nothing but ice chips, until mile 18 of the run. A young man named Cassidy power walked with me. He pushed me and kept me moving. Nice fella!
At mile 18, I chatted with the medical professionals for a while since my vision was blurry and I felt drunk. They got me restocked on sugar and balanced back out before sending me on my way. Cassidy and I finished strong, but we were 9 minutes late. The finish line had closed.
I didn't care, I ran around the corral gate and chugged into the finish line. I ran down the carpet, I ran across the line, I went 140.6. I finished and Carson is why. There are many other children who are part of Team Crusher, but Carson is my why. Training and racing are my connection to a little boy who left me far too early in life.
I have promised to myself and to Carson to use his death as a motivator, as a way to bless other people. He did not lose his life in vain because I refuse to let his death be mine. I hope that other parents who feel this loss can find their own Ironman journey. I hope we can all find our own way to connect and way to honor our children. They deserve it.
Missing Carson is no longer something new, but it was definitely magnified over race week. We all knew what drove me to be in Boulder. We knew what drove my training. We knew what was going to push me through 140.6 miles.
Over the day, I was feeling good. Up at 2:30ish and grabbing a coffee. Got everyone ready and transition opened up at 4:00 I think. Buses took us out to the lake. I was antsy, I was uncomfortable, I had to pee. I had been slamming water all week in an effort to at least start the race hydrated. I guess it worked!
I made it through the swim and transitioned to my bike. The transition took a little longer than planned, but it was a welcome sit. I got slathered with sunscreen, gave the family kisses and hopped on my trusty steed. I felt great and talked with Carson and prayed for a long time. There were big hills, there were little hills and there were false flats.
As I approached one intersection I saw firetrucks and an ambulance go across the road and stop shortly after that. Course attendants ushered us around what appeared to be a bike crash. Later in the day, I would find out that we lost an Ironman that day. Her name was Michelle and she was from a town near North Platte, NE, where I live. I will be running in her memorial triathlon this coming year.
About 70 miles into the bike, I started to feel awful, my body didn't want to put any food or water in, but I forced it. I knew that I was putting forth lots of energy and needed to reload calories as best I could. I think maybe I overdid it a little.
Coming into T-2 I was wasted. I saw my parents at the transition and I heard my mom say, "this isn't good." My dad also said, "Call Julie". I was a hurtin unit. I wasn't stopping. The volunteers at the transition tent basically dressed me and got me on my way. They were so encouraging and nice. I couldn't think.
As I left T-2, the only thing on my mind was not giving up, there is a little boy who is pushing me all the way to the end. I felt terrible, eating nothing but ice chips, until mile 18 of the run. A young man named Cassidy power walked with me. He pushed me and kept me moving. Nice fella!
At mile 18, I chatted with the medical professionals for a while since my vision was blurry and I felt drunk. They got me restocked on sugar and balanced back out before sending me on my way. Cassidy and I finished strong, but we were 9 minutes late. The finish line had closed.
I didn't care, I ran around the corral gate and chugged into the finish line. I ran down the carpet, I ran across the line, I went 140.6. I finished and Carson is why. There are many other children who are part of Team Crusher, but Carson is my why. Training and racing are my connection to a little boy who left me far too early in life.
I have promised to myself and to Carson to use his death as a motivator, as a way to bless other people. He did not lose his life in vain because I refuse to let his death be mine. I hope that other parents who feel this loss can find their own Ironman journey. I hope we can all find our own way to connect and way to honor our children. They deserve it.
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