Remembering the Ironman . . . Part 4 of 1,000,000

MARATHON: –noun
1. a foot race over a course measuring 26 mi. 385 yd. (42 km 195 m).
2. any contest, event, or the like, of great, or greater than normal, length or duration or requiring exceptional endurance


"Exceptional endurance . . ." That, my friends, is no joke. In the Ironman, I completed my first marathon.

First some background: when I was sixteen I tore my MCL and after surgery, 2 months in a cast and 6 months of physical training was told that there were certain activities that I would never be able to do: skiing and running. To make a long, loooooong, story short, I tore my MCL twice since then and doctors have always said the same thing: don't run. And, although at the time I had never even thought about running, hearing the words "do not" simply made me say "why the hell not? What do you 'doctors' know anyway?" (yeah, I realize that attitude is very '15 year old, hormonal teenager' but, never fear, I'm getting more than my share of payback from my own 15 year old hormonal teenager!!) Anyway, really, you see those guys in the NFL blow an ACL or MCL and get back out there a few weeks later, so it clearly could be done. I was not satisified to accept this silly diagnosis of "do not run." At first I rebelliously ran -- but wore my mammoth, jointed knee brace just to be safe. But a brace was uncomfortable so a few years ago, I decided to throw away the brace and take my chances. Two years ago, my orthopaedist told me that I needed surgery. I was not willing to accept that in order to continue they lifestyle that I wanted that I would have be in and out of stupid knee surgeries and physical therapy. I told my doctor that I would take my chances and that I was not going to have another surgery, I was not going to do physical therapy and I was not going to stop running. What I WAS going to do was to learn how to run properly, to strengthen my legs to protect my joint and to learn to listen to my body. And, through the years, I think I have accomplished that(knock, knock, KNOCK on wood!!!!) Although, on every run, no matter how long or short, the words "do not run" sit in the back of my mind causing me to question whether I can accomplish my goals. And, I still have knee issues -- it slips out now and then, it swells and it gets sore. But, that's life. I've accepted that I will never be the fastest runner and I still refuse to wear a brace. Which may or may not be stupid. But, then again, I also refused to accept the idea that I couldn't run. And, that was not stupid because now, I am an Ironman. So, perhaps, that gives you an idea of why this portion of the Ironman meant so much to me -- and why I was so fearful as I headed out of T2.

As I took the first few steps onto the run course, I was surprised at how good my legs felt. They really felt fresh and I was actually happy to be running instead of on the bike. The crowd around the transition area is immense so you get a lot of encouragement as you begin. And, having your name on your bib really helps A LOT. Specatators call you by name and personalize their support. "Cyndi! Look at you! You look great!" "Oh, man, Cyndi! I can see it! You want this, girl! Go get it!" "You're looking so strong, Cyndi! You've got this!" All these comments (and many more!) were said by people I didn't even know. People who had been out there for hours upon hours simply to motivate and encourage all of the athletes. They weren't there simply to see the "show" that the pros would put on. They were there for us. The ordinary guys and girls working our asses off to cross that finish line. The people who live along the course had turned their homes into house parties, playing music, shouting, yelling and running along side a lot of the runners. It was truly unbelieveable.

















The IMFL run course consists of two loops and I was lucky to start my first loop in the daylight. Between mile 0-8, I felt really strong. Around mile 9, I started to waver. All I could think about was seeing the smiling faces of my kids at the turnaround that starts the second lap. As I counted down the miles that would take me to the 1/2 way point, I became more and more excited about seeing their faces. I needed a high five from my Booger. A smile and kiss from my Kelsey. A shoutout from Nick and some strong "girls' rock" mojo from my sweet Kyle. But as I headed down the chute toward the turnaround point I saw my husband standing there -- but not one of my kids. I ran by yelling "Where are my kids?" He shouted back that his parents had taken them to the expo. Um, what?? I headed into the run special needs area and tried to focus my mind on getting everything I would need for the run. But I couldn't. I was starting to cry -- and I don't cry. I wanted my kids. I ran out of the special needs area with 1/2 the amount of gel and food that I needed and stopped dead in my tracks to talk to my husband. I was beginning to cry and asking where my kids were, again. I told him how much I needed them and how hard this was and then I ran off with tears in my eyes.

For the next two miles I ran/walked while trying to hold back tears. I couldn't think of my nutrition or my hydration. I didn't think of pace. I simply -- well -- I simply pouted. Ridiculous, isn't it? I was doing a freakin' Ironman and throwing a tantrum!!! What the hell?!? Let's just say I was delirious. I mean, it wasn't my husband's fault. He explained to my inlaws that the only thing I wanted was to see my family every time I came through transition. But, his family overruled him because they thought I'd be tired -- too tired to even realize whether the kids were there or not so they took them to the museum, to dinner and then back to the hotel to chill out. UGH! Even writing that makes me mad all over again! All I asked for was their faces -- for 5 flippin' minutes. But, I also realize that his parents didn't do this on purpose. They have no idea what this ordeal entails and, despite my specific request to have the kids there, they thought they were helping. They never would have taken them back to the hotel if they had any idea of how much it would hurt me -- or how much it would affect my "mental" state during the race.

Anyway, at mile 16 or so, I finally got my head together and faced the fact that I could either finish this race pouting and angry or I could focus my energy into finishing this race strong and realizing that in the long run, this moment of sadness would mean nothing compared to the joy of finishing the Ironman. So, I began to run again. And I continued on, as it got dark, for the next few miles. I saw Karen again and got a hug as she was heading into the last few miles before the finish. She looked amazing! I saw Grandison, looking strong and beautiful as she glided along in the run. I missed Susie Q passing me but I'm sure she was in the "zone" -- uh, Susie, maybe a little too far into the "zone"! :D Lynn and Anna, Deanna L and Deanna B, and then, Carmen. Seeing her on the race course just makes me happy! She gave me the last hug that I got before I headed into the last few miles and it carried me all the way through the finish. Thanks, CH!

I should mention that I had a great running "buddy" from mile 20ish until the finish. I don't know his name but he was some guy who had done 2 Ironman's in the past. IMFL was the first one he'd ever done, as well. It was great having someone to talk to as I tried to take my mind off the last few miles. My legs were killing me. Every muscle in my legs hurt. My ankles, my achilles, my quads. Everything. My feet were so terribly blistered but I didn't want to stop because I knew that starting again would be so much worse. In the back of my mind I was worried about my knee. It was shifting a lot and I just tried to keep my form so that I wouldn't put it in a position that would cause it to go out from under me. But, being tired made keeping "good" form very difficult. As my "buddy" and I ran, he told me how good it would feel to cross that finish line and that is really what helped me through those last miles.

Right before we turned to make that last 1/4 mile stretch to the finish line, he stopped me. He said, "Make sure to go slow. Take it in. It goes too fast. Remember it. It's your first." Then we made the turn and saw the crowd that leads you into the finish. As we started down the finisher's chute, he let me go ahead and live the moment of my first Ironman. I remember this man reaching his hand out from the sidelines and screaming, "You did it! You did it, Cyndi! Yeah! You did it!!" I high fived his hand with a huge smile on my face and was taken aback by the emotional moment I was sharing with this stranger who at that moment seemed so much more like a friend. A few yards up, I heard my son's voice yell. Just a single voice in that huge crown yelling "YEAH!!! YEAH!!!! YOU DID IT!!" and I was able to turn right to him and find him within the crowd of people. His smile and the look of joy on his face will be in my heart forever. God, he looked so proud of me . . Before I could run to him to give him a hug, he took off running to let everyone else know I was coming into the finish.

As I came upon the finish line, a bunch of people were in front of me and one woman was smiling and almost crying with pride. In my head I thought, "Oh, what a nice lady!!" Then I realized it was my sister!!! She was in the finisher's chute and was going to run with me into the finish. We clasped hands as we ran toward the finish line. As she went on and on about how proud she was, I heard those words through the crowd . . . "Cyndi Dambacher, YOUR ARE AN IRONMAN!" And I was across the line and in the arms of my family and friends.

I was so happy when I crossed the line that my family said it was like I was drunk! I hugged the woman who gave me my medal. I hugged the man who gave me my tinfoil blanket. I hugged my in-laws, my nephews, my husband and my children. And then I saw Coach G. and I hugged her with all the appreciation, thanks and love in my heart -- for believing in me, inspiring me and allowing me to see that my dreams were within my reach.

I couldn't believe it. I was an Ironman. Wait, I AM an Ironman. This may not mean much to those who have never heard of this sport. But that's okay with me. It should be a secret. A secret gift that only those who are willing to fight for it can have. It is, indeed, a gift -- and the sacrifice, pain and dedication it took to get here was worth it just to experience every, wonderful, exhilerating moment on this journey.

Next up: Reflection . . . and the tattoo!

Remembering the Ironman, Part 3 of 1,000,000 . . . .

It's all about the bike . . .

First let me tell you that my memories of Ironman are already starting to fade. It's so sad that I cannot sit and relish all the moments of this adventure for just a little bit longer. But, alas, that thing called "life" seems to keep pulling me out of my Ironman-induced euphoria. I am actually a bit depressed -- I'm missing being on the journey toward my Ironman goal, missing my teammates and simply wondering how the time went by so damn fast. Bummer.

Anyway, back to the bike: I'll admit that the bike is where I live. I am the most comfortable there and I enjoy it more than any other discipline. I could cycle a century every weekend and be a happy, happy gal. So, I had one goal on the bike: don't enjoy myself too much so that I wouldn't have anything left for the run. I followed Blake's instructions to ride easy for the first hour to hour and a half so that I'd have the energy to really come through in the end. But, God, it was so hard to have people passing me right out of the chute while I put my faith into believing that they would lose steam as the ride progressed and I would be able to catch up or pass them in the end -- at least, I hoped that's what would happen!

I had one other goal for the bike. Learn to pee on the bike. I know that seems silly (or gross) but it's very common and a skill that actually takes practice! When I left transition I had to pee and I really didn't want to stop at the port-o-lets but despite my best effort, I just couldn't do it. I mean, how the hell do you pedal and pee at the same time??? So, at mile 20 I was forced to stop at the port-o-let -- that had a line of at least 10 people in front of me. Now, prior to the Ironman, the race organizers made sure that we understood that we could not pull to the side of the road and pee in the woods or bushes. If we did, and got caught, we would be arrested on the spot and DQ'd from the race. Well, I certainly wasn't going to have my IM dream go down the tubes just because I needed to pee so I thought I should play by the rules. I waited in line for almost 15 full minutes before I got my turn in the bathroom. I had time to eat, refill my bottles, talk to the volunteers, get a massage, take a nap . . . it seemed to take FOREVER!! I mean, if they're going to have a rule like that, they need to make sure to have more than 1-2 port-o-lets per water stop to accomodate over 2,000 athletes!! Anyway, throughout the race I had to stop 3 times!! Luckily the last two stops at mile 50 and 80ish had shorter lines. Either way, I figure it cost me about 25 minutes in bike time.

Throughout the entire bike I felt really good. I used the time to take in my food and hydrate and really just enjoyed the scenery. The field is pretty crowded out there so you have a lot of time to leapfrog with other bikers and talk a little. The one bad thing that happens with a field this crowded is that a lot of people totally break the drafting rule. I can't tell you how many people I saw purposely drafting off the bikers in front of them!! It was really kind of disappointing. But I figured, if that's the way they want to complete their Ironman, then fine. But, I'm coming through knowing that no one got me there but myself. And, then, I met Randy.

Randy was this red-headed overweight rider who was riding right on my ass. Hmmm. Perhaps he doesn't realize he's drafting. That's okay. I'll just drop him. I picked up my pace, passed a few people and figured I left Randy behind me. Until I looked back again. Randy was still right behind me. Okay, jerk, now I know you're drafting off me -- and it was purposeful. So now my goal was to drop cheater Randy. At one point we were going down a little hill and Randy's weight put him in front of me (which is when learned his name since Ironman puts your name on your bib -- until then, he was just red headed cheater guy). When we got to another little hill, I passed Randy again and he immediately jumped on my tail. I tried unsuccessfully to drop him one more time and then I was forced to use the best skill ever taught to any cyclist: the snot rocket. I quickly looked back, put myself in position and snotted right at my new pal Randy. Randy dropped back and I didn't see him again. :)


















When you pull into transition from the bike, they lead your through Ironman village. The chute toward transition is lined with spectators. When you go through, you feel the energy of the crowd. You see their faces, you hear people calling your name and you have no choice but to smile and take in the amazing experience. As I came through, it was like a roar. My family was jumping up and down, yelling and screaming my name. I could see the love and excitement in their eyes and I was blown away by how proud they were of me. Little me. Just an ordinary girl going after an extraordinary dream. Dear God, I love them.

When I entered transition, a volunteer ran up to me to take my bike and rack it for me. Nice! I took off my bike shoes and ran through transition to the tent that I hoped contained my Bike to Run bag. As I stepped into the changing tent, Kate O came running up to me with my bags. (By the way, I forgot to mention that Kate wrote "YES YOU CAN" in bright red marker on my left forearm before the race. I can't tell you how many times I looked at that message on my arm. Thank you, Kate -- you were amazing!) Anyway, Kate performed this magic act of getting me undressed and re-dressed into my running gear in a matter of seconds. I'm not even kidding. I put my arms in the air, there was a flurry of clothes and voila! I was in running clothes. It was awesome. Kate was able to give me an update on who she had seen and we had a quick minute to take a picture. After that, I was ready to go to face my biggest fear and what I anticipated to be my largest obstacle. The run . . .

Remembering the Ironman . . . Part 2 of 1,000,000

Okay, let's fast forward to packet pick-up. Coach G, TriGirls AnnaMac, Carmen and I went to pick up our packets together. First, let me say, that Ironman Village is incredible. There's just a lot of excitement and energy there. Now, Ironman packet pick up is not like your everyday triathlon packet pick-up. After you stand in line a volunteer gives you some forms to fill out and then you get weighed (ugh!). Then they invite you to sit with your very own volunteer. She warmly explained everything in my packet to me, made sure everything in my packet was in order, put a pretty little Ironman wristband on me and wished me luck on my special day.

Once back at the hotel I went through my packet and pulled out what seemed like a million bags I had to put my stuff in: Warm Clothes Bag, Special Needs Bike bag, Special Needs Run bag, Swim to Bike bag, Bike to Run Bag. Ahhh! I was feeling overwhelmed. I knew I would have bags but it didn't really hit me that it meant that I had to plan my entire race in advance. See, at an Ironman you have NO transition area by your bike. Everything you need must be packed in one of these bags -- fuel, hydration, bike shorts, helmet, shoes, bodyglide -- everything. This means if you need bodyglide before the swim and before the run, you better have two because one needs to go in each bag. The list I made at home about what I wanted in each bag REALLY came in handy at this time (that and my trusty husband sitting by my side helping me pack!) I just went through my checklist and started throwing things in bags. Then I tied them up, took them to transition and wished them luck. Note to self: tie bags in a way that is easy to untie when you're tired.

The night before the Ironman I had my staple dinner of pasta with salmon and set the three alarm clocks that I had with me. Now, I knew that I wouldn't need three alarm clocks but I read something that said you will sleep better just knowing that they're all there. And, it worked! I slept like a baby all night!


Derek and I headed off to the race with plans that my family would meet up with us so they could see the start of the swim. I have to admit I was pretty nervous -- excited, too -- but mainly feeling like I was going to puke.

As I entered transition, it was like a dream. The crowds of people, the music, the energy . . . it was amazing. I took a moment to just stand there and take it all in. I was here. I was going to do a flippin' Ironman. Me. As my mother told me the night before the race, "I can't believe my chubby girl is doing this . . " And, although I thought that was a screwed up way of saying she was proud of me, the truth is, I couldn't believe it either. Standing here at this great event was the girl who wouldn't even try out for drill team because she was too big. The girl who told her gym teacher that she had "female issues" every day that we were supposed to run around the track. The girl who always thought she was clumsy and un-athletic. The girl who always thought she'd be cheering on the sidelines instead of playing in the game. Again, it was simply amazing.


By the time we got to the swim start area all the TriGirls had managed to find eachother. We all looked anxious but ready to start the race. I has frantically looking for my kids who I knew had arrived but were having trouble finding me in the thousands of people. The clock was starting to tick down and soon I was going to have to enter the swim corral. I really needed a hug from my Booger and I was starting to get worried. Suddenly, out of the crowd, I heard "Mommy!!!" and there they all were -- wearing shirts that said "Proud Son/Daughter of an Ironman". Awwww, I love my family so much!! Now I was ready to start the race . . .

We entered the swim corral and I noticed that there was about 2 minutes until the starting gun went off. Holy flippin' crap!!! Okay, so my swim plan was this: swim. Period. Not on the inside, not on the ouside, not in the front or in the back. Just get in the water, find a spot and swim. Suddenly, the gun went off and all 2000+ swimmers starting running for the water. I walked into the water, took a moment to look at all the swimmers in front of me and really let it soak in. Here we go, I thought. And with that, I dove in and swam my little heart out.

The swim was everything you have heard. It's crowded, a washing machine of people. You get pulled, hit, kicked and shoved. But, with all that, it's really not that bad. I expected all these things to happen so I didn't stress when they did. I simply raised my head, adjusted my line, and kept swimming. Okay, around some guys, I'll admit, I did swim while throwing elbows -- but, I swear, they deserved it!

As I exited the water on the first lap, I saw my little Booger sitting on top of her Daddy's shoulders yelling her little heart out. I'm sure she was saying something like "Go, Mommy, Go!" although, with her sense of humor, she could very well have been yelling "Shark!!" Anyway, after the first loop in the water, I really felt I was in a rhythm. Not too slow and not too fast. I did get stuck in traffic around the first turn buoy which caused about 200 of us to tread water while trying to push our way around the buoy (by the way, it's hard to make forward progress when you're forced to remain vertical!) But, now the field was starting to open up and I felt the second lap would be even better than the first. And, it was. The time really seemed to fly by and when I exited the water for the second time, I felt great!

I jogged up the hill and while stripping down the top portion of my wetsuit. Then I took full advantage of the wetsuit strippers. You sit on the ground, lift your butt up and whoosh! off comes your wetsuit! It was very cool! Then we all made our way through the shower area to rinse off the saltwater. One bitch in the back kept shouting "keep it moving, keep it moving" as she pushed and shoved her way through everyone. Really, lady, you're not in front and you're not a pro so chill the f^%$ out!

When I got into the transition tent I was so happy to see Shelly! She was almost fully changed and ready to start on the bike leg. I stripped down in front of all my hundreds of new best friends and a volunteer quickly helped me change into my bike gear. On my way out, I saw TG Deanna B. and we gave eachother a quick hug (which, by the way, makes all the difference in a race. It's so great to see a friend and get a quick high-five or hug. It keeps you going with a smile on your face!) I also saw Grandison pumping away in the corner. What a rock star!! By the way, my mom told me that they mentioned on the internet broadcast that there was some amazing athlete who they heard was pumping in the transition tent. They had to be talking about our G!!


As I exited the tent, the volunteers shouted out my name and someone else quickly brought me my bike. One down, two to go. From my left I heard screaming and shouting and I looked to see my crew of 14 going nuts cheering for me. Good God, how lucky am I? And, what a great way to start the bike. I quickly raised my hand and did our family thing of saying "I love you" in sign language and I was off . . .

Next up: the bike.

Remembering the Ironman . . . Part 1 of 1,000,000

At first I didn't think I could blog about this race because SO much has happened. But then I remembered that I'm using this blog as my IM journal and I want to remember every detail about my fantastic adventure to becoming an official IRONMAN. So, if you'll bear with me, I'm going to start at the beginning . . .

At 6 a.m. on Halloween morning, Derek (aka Big Dog), Nick and Kyle dropped Kelsey, Rylee and me off at the airport. The plan was to have me fly down with the little ones and Derek and the older two would drive straight through and meet us there in the evening. That meant that my guy and the older kids would be in the car for at least 12 hours -- and, you know what? They never complained about it -- at least not to me! :)

Kelsey and Rylee are excellent airline travelers so the trip down to Panama City was pretty uneventful. Derek had arranged for a car to pick us up and take us to the hotel so that, too, was completely non-stressful. The only minor delay we had was when we were taking a little turbo-prop from Atlanta into Panama City. The plane was almost entirely atheletes competing in the IM and the plane was having a difficult time loading all of the bikes into the cargo hold. Everyone on the plane was talking about the IM and it seemed that they had all done at least one Ironman before. I felt very much like the new kid in class and was sure that they all thought I was just some girly-girl going down to Panama City with my kids for vacation. Clearly, I didn't look like these uber-athletic Ironman competitors!! I tried to push my doubts from my mind and settle into taking care of the girls on the plane.

Derek's sister, Kim, and my niece, Jade, were already at the hotel when I arrived and my in-laws were expected to get there around 5pm. They had reserved 2 beautiful, 2 bedroom condos for us and we had an amazing view of the beach. I was hoping that Derek would be there in time to go trick-or-treating with us and with Coach G & M and their kids. My little Booger was going to be a vampire (I finally talked her out of being "Jason" - don't ask) and Kelsey was going as some sort of zombie cheerleader (she actually thought she was too old to trick or treat but I finally talked her into being my nine year old little girl for one more year! Who stops trick-or-treating at nine???) Luckily Derek made it in time so we met up with Grandison and Mark at this townhome complex.

Let me first stay that Coach G's son, Matthew, and my Booger, became the best of buddies when they first met a few weeks ago. They have both been very excited about being able to spend Halloween together -- until poor Matthew saw his now spooky little friend! Rylee's face was white with blacked out eyes, she was wearing her vampire teeth the entire time and had the fake blood she insisted on dripping down her mouth. Needless to say, he stayed 3 feet away from her the entire time and said "that doesn't look like Rylee . . ." Yeah, my Rylee is a maverick.

The next day, Coach G, Coach S and I planned on meeting up for a swim. My first ocean swim in well over 10 years. Actually, I don't think I've ever truly swam in the ocean. But in recent years, my fear of sharks has kept me from even going past my ankles. I won't let my kids go past their ankles either!! I have no idea why I'm so fearful of sharks. It's not like anything traumatic has happened to me. But, it's gotten so bad that the last time I tried going to the beach with the kids, I had a complete panic attack. They were wading ankle deep in the water and I freaked out and made everyone pack up and go home. I know. Wacky. Anyway, to say that I was scared about going swimming in Panama City was a complete and total understatement.

When I first saw Grandison on the beach I told her that I was completely scared and freaked out. She told me that she was going to tell me the same thing she told her 5 year old son. Apparently, Matthew had a terrible dream that involved sharks attacking his Mommy and was completely freaked out about Grandison swimming in the ocean. She told him "Sharks swim in the ocean and we're swimming in the gulf" Okay, I can be five and believe that, right? Right?!? Um, no, I can't but I was going to try. Right before we started our swim, Grandison said, "okay, now really, let's swim together -- because of the sharks" Som just nodded his approval and off we went -- as I was silently FREAKING OUT!!!! Every time I would take a breath to the right I would see this large expanse of ocean in front of me and I'd start to panic. Then I started thinking that perhaps Grandison's son was having a premonition and not a dream and now I was swimming next to a piece of shark bait! Then I started thinking about the scene from Jaws and kept thinking something was just about to bite my toes. Then I started to imagine what a shark would look like slithering through the water. Then I told myself to calm the f&$% down!!!! I focused on my stroke and my breathing and told myself to have faith. Have faith that I was supposed to be here and that everything would be fine. And, suddenly, I really did calm down. Not entirely, but enough to get through the swim. I think I'm almost as proud of myself for that swim as I am for the entire Ironman. I know my kids are -- on the way home my little one told me that she knew I was scared but she thought I was very, very brave. I smiled and my heart melted.


Okay, that's all for now. Tomorrow maybe I'll even put out some details on the race!!