I am back in DC and almost fully recovered from Ironman Florida. What a great experience! I made the first smart move by staying at a condo down the road from the race site. Thanks to Roger for recommending it. It was fun being at the race site, but only in small doses. I would have been a nervous wreck seeing everybody prancing around and showing off their bodies and bikes. I am just not that type of person. Folks were biking and running and swimming all day long, while I was taking naps. Anyway...just a different way of working out those pre-race jitters.

I arrived Wednesday night in time for a late night dinner. Immediately, my parents and I could see the effect of this event on a smaller community like Panama City Beach. All the locals knew who we were, why we were there, and the money we were going to spend. Throughout the entire weekend, everybody was so happy to have us that we had an excellent time just seeing how the presence of an Ironman event affects the community.

In the day's prior, I napped, ate like a pig, napped a little more, and ate a little more. I had to register, racked my bike and have all my bike and run gear ready to go the day before. Jay and my friends arrived Thursday late and definitely lightened up the pre-race environment. They even started a pool to see who could guess my finish time.

Saturday morning came and it hit me. Seven months of training ends today. Funny thing. I felt ready yesterday, but not today. I suddenly became very nervous. However, that quickly subsided when I got to the race site. Jay, Bonnie, and Jon took the shuttle with me. It's a long day and there is no reason to get nervous. I trained smart and healthy. I will definitely finish. I just need to relax and take my time. Stay out of the way. Run my own race. It's my first one after all and I have only the goal of finishing.

I made it down to the beach within 5 minutes of the start (too long of a line for the porta potty). My friend Amy sprayed Pam cooking spray all over my neck (to prevent wetsuit chaffing). She sprayed her boyfriend, Steve, too and did not want to stop. Hmmmmm......

I left Steve to get the best position possible on the swim start. I knew it would be a fast swim so I wanted to get out there and get into my groove as soon as possible. Steve was a great training partner, giving me inspiration and advice for the last several months. I thanked him and asked him to be nice to me when he passes me on the bike. A minute or so later, the cannon blasted and off we went. 1900 swimmers all at once. I started swimming after 30 seconds of walking--it was shallow. However, some slow SOBs felt the need to line up front and center and were now slowing the stronger swimmers down. Should I grab their ankles and yank them back? Nah. I am too nice. Just be patient and use this as a reason to get the heart rate increasing slowly. I turned the first corner and finally got into a good grove....aerobic pace...not too hard. Exactly the cadence I wanted, but I was still bumping into people. Too many damn people. AND WHY CAN'T THEM SWIM STRAIGHT? It's not that hard.

I got to the end of the first loop and felt like it was slower than I wanted. I looked at my watch and did that first 1.2 miles in 29 minutes. I was surprised and psyched. I decided to drink some water and take my time getting back into the Gulf for the second round. I saw Amy again (who refused to give me back my Pam spray) and screamed my name. I heard Bonnie and Jon yell my name too, but could not figure out where the noise was coming from. However, a girl my age was right with me, so I decided to crank it up again. I did not see too many yellow caps (women) ahead of me, so I knew I was going strong. However, it suddenly got very, very wavy. I could only imagine it was the Coast Guard boats zigzagging back and forth now that the pack is more spread out. However, I also learned later that it was the ESPN camera crews hovering just above us in a helicopter. It was the helicopter making those waves, darn it. They were big and I took in several mouths-full of salt water. I better now be on TV, damn it. It feels like the jerks are hovering directly over me. My lips starting feeling fat and bloated and my mouth felt like I was gargling with Margarita salt. I did the second round in just around 30 minutes. I would have really liked a sub-1 hour swim, but 1:01 was nothing to complain about.

I moved to the wetsuit "peelers." This was fun. I turned my back to two women volunteers, they unzipped my wetsuit, turned me around so I now faced them. They peeled the wetsuit off just below my waist and they told me to roll down onto my back. In one fell-swoop, I am now my back and they are yanking the wetsuit off my ankles. I hopped back up onto my feet. They handed me my wetsuit and wish me luck and fun. I continued running to the "swim to bike transition." I saw my Dad. I waved. He waved. Thank god he had my medical insurance card if something happens. Even happier he did not tell my mom about it. I found my bag and jogged into the changing tent.

This was also fun. On the way in, Jay was standing at the fence and cheering me on. I think he told me I was 18th out of the water (women). That really made my day, even if I did not finish the race. I was so pleased with 18th...even while holding back. Cool.

Once in the tent, a little old retiree lady took my bag from me and unloaded its contents as I took off my swimsuit. Another little old retiree took my wetsuit and swim suit and folded it nicely into the now-empty bag. I put on my bike clothing and the two little old retirees slathered me up with sunscreen. My crew member John would have paid $1 million dollars to be a volunteer in the women's changing tent, as it very much has the feel of a gym locker room (without the hot tub).

I left the changing tent in about 5 minutes. Jay was there again cheering me on. I used the porta potty and got my bike. At the exit, the announcer said my name and everyone in the audience around me cheered. Once out of the transition, I saw a bunch of my "crew" members: Bonnie, John, Jon and Carrie. They were snapping pictures, yelling, screaming, and having a good time. Once on my bike. I high fived as many of them as I could and went off for a really, really, really long bike ride.

I rode by the condo I was staying in and expected to see my mom waving from the balcony, but she missed me by about 15 minutes. I am sure I will see her later. We rode in the city of PCB for about 10 miles and headed out into the abyss of the Florida panhandle. Pretty scenery? Yes. Pretty neighbors. No. I saw a few toothless, trailer-living, gun-holding, confederate flag waving folks out there. I just hoped that the race officials told them about us and not to mistake us for possum. The weather was perfect. About 77 and sunny, no wind. I was worried most about the wind. Wind and biking does not go together, unless of course, it is at your back.

I started immediately eating as much as I could. I packed 3000 calories with me. GUs and Gels starting sucking right away. I had my UltraFuel (400 calories in one water bottle), raisins, trail mix, bananas, peanuts, and Cliff and Luna Bars. At the halfway point, I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half of an oatmeal cream pies (350 calories and a gazillion grams of fat). THAT is quality-racing food.

I would have biked about 15-20 minutes faster in I did not have to use the rest room every 45-60 minutes. Guys can run into the woods. Some people just go on their bike (and, therefore, themselves). I waited at the porta-potties with the rest of the sane women and resolved to have a slower, but dryer bike ride.

I thought I could kill the time by counting how many people pass me on the bike. However, after the first 100 men flew by me (pass would be considered an understatement), I lost count and decided to count how many women pass me. After a while, no one was passing me. I was easily holding 19 mph average and feeling great. Having to get off my bike every hour dropped my average a lot, but I was cruising in the saddle. I was really surprised that my friend Steve had not caught up to me. But, my friend Emily did and it was great to see a friendly face, even if she was kicking my butt.

At mile 65 or so, my knee started to give me a little tinge of pain. I popped in 3 Advil into my body and continued to feel strong.

At mile 86, Fiddy's crew showed up. However, they sure looked really happy. I think it was the margaritas at 9:30 a.m. that helped them get so happy. They were cheering on everyone that passed. My dad expected to see me when the 18th woman came by, but Tom had to explain to him that there are probably several hundred women that could pass me on the bike. I am strong, but not that strong and fast. So, my dad resolved to wait patiently as several dozen women probably passed me on the bike before him seeing me. I was pleasantly surprised how few actually did.

At the end of the bike ride, I was still trying to eat, but wanted to get into the bike racks ASAP. I probably only ate about 1800 calories. I should have been closer to 2500, but was not feeling tired at all. I was feeling very, very happy and strong.

I started the run and felt like a duck. My body had an imaginary bike saddle between my legs and running with it there was not fun. After about a mile, the bike feeling went away, sooner than I imagined. I was holding 10-minute miles, not bad for 8 hours of exercise prior to the marathon. My goal was to be on the run course while the Pros were still running. I did that. I passed the men around mile 3 (their mile 22) and the women around 6 (their mile 20). They were on their way to finish as I was heading out for 26.2 miles of "fun."

I saw Bonnie and John at the end of the bike and Jay right at the beginning of the run. John and Bonnie than ran way ahead of me to cheer me at different point on the course.

I did the first seven miles in great pace for a 4:30 marathon. I was feeling strong. I saw my friend Amy around mile 9 or 10 and made enough time to share a little moment of vainness with her. We yelled out the Team Pride's mantra: I look good; I "feel" good; get over it!!!

Soon after that, my stomach starting aching a little. I had this sudden, horrible need to burp. If I decided to hold it down, it turned into a feeling of throwing-up. So, I would burp. And they were not pretty sounding. When Bonnie and John heard them, they though the devil was going to come out and take me right then and there. This was around mile 11.

I saw my parents, Carrie, and Jon at mile 12 and again at 14. My dad later confessed that he did not think I was going to make it. At around mile 13, my knee started acting up again and wanted to tell me it had enough "fun" for one day. By mile 16 when I saw Bonnie and John again, I was walking with a straight leg (my IT Band (knee) said absolutely NO to any form of bending). They tried to comfort me by saying a lot of people were walking like that. Yeah right. But were they burping like this too??? I bet not! The next mile, between burping and walking with a leg that would not bend, took approximately 20 minutes. John, who I helped run a 100 mile run in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, gave me a bit of my own medicine. He said, "Jen, remember at the Western States when you'd make me run for just 30 seconds. We need to do that now. Otherwise, it will take 3 more hours to finish these next ten miles." I was NOT going to be out there for another 3 hours. Steve, at this point, had long passed me. Tom saw me around mile 17 and I did not even acknowledge his presence. I just wanted to keep moving. The sun was down and it was pitch black out. I remember the woman I saw around mile 5 who collapsed out of exhaustion. I was not exhausted at all. I was frustrated. My heart and lungs and quads were ready to go the distance. My knees and stomach disagreed and were winning my little internal battle. I did not want them to win, so I started running. When I was running, I was holding 10:30-minute miles, but could not go too far without need to stop, burp, and burp some more.

I tried to eat some bananas and drink some chicken broth (THAT, my friends, is a godsend ...yummy....your body craves anything salty at this point and that really hit the spot), but it was not curing anything. I started taking in Advil like it was going out of style. Three here, two more there, three more later, and three more even later. It actually helped, but would have loved some Tums. No one had Tums. I'm packing Tums next time. Oh well. I think I had about 2800mg of Advil in about 2-3 hours. I am sure my knee loved it, but probably not my kidneys.

When I saw the 21 mile marker, I know I would make it under 13 hours. I was kicking myself for feeling so bad, as I was on pace for close to the 12 hour marker. But, I still had 4 miles to go. My knee was actually improving (with 14 Advil, what part of the body wouldn't feel great). I had to now only stop to burp. My knee was still killing, but not as bad as before and nothing that would stop me from getting to that finish line under 13 hours . Run. Stop. Burp. Run. Stop. Burp. Run...... I was running close to 10-minute miles again, maybe even lower. I've run a sub-4 hour marathon before and it was very difficult to convince myself that a 5:10 marathon is just fine.

By mile 23-24, you could see the lights of the finish area and hear the cheers. I started picking up the pace quite a bit. Bonnie and John had by this time sprinted to the finish. Jay spent the last three miles with me, my stomach, and my knee. He just finished the NYC marathon the week prior in a kick-ass time, so cheering me on running at a snails pace was probably not fun for him at all. I found myself talking to those still running and heading out on their second loop. "You'll do it, my friend." 'Keep plugging away." I felt very lucky not to have to go back again. I was almost finished and tried to do my part.

But, the last mile was lined with people cheering. It was an unbelievable feeling. For some reason, my knee pain had completely gone away. And although my stomach was still aching a bit, I had the resolve to run through it all. I rounded the corner and up and over a small hill. I came around another corner to the finish line. Tons of lights and people screaming. My entire crew was there and my mom and dad were screaming and cheering like I've never seen. I started high-fiving strangers and my friends and family. I crossed the finish line and broke the tape with an amazingly huge smile. 12 hours 49 minutes. My mother hugged me. I cannot decided if she was so happy and excited to experience such a crazy event, or if she was happy just to see me alive.

People collapse and get carted off to the medical tent. I went to the pizza. I need something for my stomach. My knee pain immediately returned and my stomach no longer need to burp. Weird. I was not exhausted at all and that made me a little upset, because I knew I had it in me to crank out some faster miles running. I guess this is why people get addicted to this stuff. You always can improve and try to beat your old times and efforts. Every event is a new experience, a new struggle.

Ironman Wisconsin, September 2002, here I come.

Thanks for all your kind words of support and encouragement. I could not have done it without all your e-mails. I definitely could not have done this without Steve, Jay, John, Bonnie, Tom, Jon and Carrie, and Amy. Thanks to Roger, Kelly, and Steve T. for giving me great advice and wise words of wisdom. My mom and dad are just the two most supportive people around and I thank them for everything they provided me this weekend, even if they think this endeavor was borderline psycho. They know they have raised one determined (yet psycho) little girl.