IRONMAN WACO Recap. — Nutrition with Brooke

The pre-race chill spot. Trying to take a few more bites of food, stay loose, and calm.

A recap of what I can remember from my 3rd Ironman. While each event is the same distance, the experience is not. Read on for insight for all the details and hour by hour breakdown, if interested!

3:30AM: The dogs made the trip with me down to Texas. At 3:30AM Dakota woke me up, was scratching insensately, shaking her head, and once I got my tired eyes open, I realized there was blood, her ears smelled, it was a mess. By this time my sister and dad were both awake and I decided that a trip to the Emergency Vet was a must. Dad and Paige tried to leave me behind to get a couple hours of sleep, but Dakota is like my first born child, so off we went. Good news—the ER vet was just a short 10 minute drive and they were completely empty so we were back at the AirBNB by 4:30AM. Enough time for a 30 minute snooze, or at least an attempt to sleep, before the official race day begins.

5:00AM: WAKE UP! Alarms go off, every light in the house is flipped on, and the organized chaos ensues. Bags are packed (ahead of time thanks to my lovely sister), I try to eat breakfast (the nerves are insane, but as many bites of overnight oats as I can is necessary), and I’m sure to load up all my snacks and hydration I need for the race which included: fig bars, SPLIT nutrition, applesauce pouches, hydration mix, and a few Advil just in case. Note: I knew the nerves would be crazy so I made extra sure that my fueling in the days leading up to this were on point. Proper carbo loading, good hydration, and everything in between. We load up the car, and off we go!

The sister “pull it together stop crying” chat. Love her.

5:45AM: Dad drops me at transition—in an illegal parking lot, but that’s pretty much how it rolls at all sorts of sporting events—Paige hops out with me as my right hand man, and in I go. I need to pump up tires, load up all my fuel and snacks, check that all my gear bags are set, then get to the start line, by foot, which was about 1 mile away.

6:00AM: Fortunately, Paige being the sister of the century, grabbed the extra road bike we brought, so while everyone else had to walk the mile to the swim start, I got to cruise on by with the bike. I got to the start ahead of the crowd, scoped out a good spot (close enough to the bathrooms but not TOO close), and tried to chill.

6:45AM: The tears started rolling. There’s something about having the wetsuit on, everyone starting to line up, and the reality of what I was about to take on that just overwhelmed my entire body. A few good hugs, a last minute pep talk, and off I went to join the masses.

7:20AM: Just minutes away from the start. The starting canals were narrow, it was almost impossible to move up, so you’re just stuck until people start getting in the water. Mom, Dad, Paige, and Michael followed me as a I made snail-like progress. I could see the start line, butterflies filled my stomach, and on went my goggles and swim cap as I inch closer and closer.

7:33AM: Into the water I jump. The first 1/2 mile was rough. I couldn’t get my breathing down, spotting was challenging, and it was hard to get into a rhythm. BUT, every time I went to breathe, I could hear my sis “GO BEE!” as they could walk along the bank and keep track of me. Once I got to the turnaround point and headed back the other way, I was more into a groove, and turned up the speed. Every time I breathed to my right I could see my mom’s hot pink “IronMom” shirt on the banks of the river. There was something comforting about seeing her the entire way, maybe it was the fact that I knew if I went under, she could jump in and save me. I got kicked in the face, swam over, squeezed out, and I got sick of it, so I pushed even harder eager to get out of the water onto solid land.

8:59AM: 1 hour 27 minutes for the swim…not bad. I exit the water and start the run to transition #1 for the bike. I heard the whole family cheering me on and I was feeling good. As I got to my bike I could hear Paige yelling at me that I needed to carry, not roll, my bike out to the mount line because there were a lot of burs in the grass and athletes were getting flat tires in transition. So on top of trying to catch my breath and stand up straight, I now walked, carrying my bike to the mount line. I hopped on and off I went. I took the first few miles to breathe, fuel, hydrate, and try to relax. This is where my nutrition really came into play. I’ve calculated that I needed around 300 calories an hour to stay in an energy balance. I used a mix of Infinit hydration mix, bars, applesauce, and grabbing what I can as I roll through aid stations. Unfortunately, at mile 3 my handlebar water bottle flew off into the road. I was now down a water bottle and just starting the 112 mile ride, so it was on to plan B…which at that exact moment I was’t too sure what that was.

The next almost 7 hours were a mixture of wind, bumpy and pothole ridden roads, pain, some tears, and even a deer running into, yes INTO, a fence. I went in thinking the bike would be my strength, but for some reason it was the most trying part of the entire event. My uncle, who has competed in the World Championships in Kona for Ironman, has always told me that there will be “doors” that will show up throughout the event. You never know when, where, or what they will look like but they will appear and you have to figure out how to get through them. I can confidently say I think I experienced at least eight different “doors” on the bike course. Questioning if I could continue one, my feet burning, pain shooting through my entire body, feeling like I couldn’t stay hydrated, and moving at what feels like a snail pace. My family was great and found a way to get out on the bike course to cheer me on and I can truly say I don’t think I could have made it through without seeing them, especially when the pain was so extreme and the tears were rolling down my face. It wasn’t my best look, but I got through.

The final transition. Unsure I would ever get up.

4:10PM: Transitioned to the run. This picture about sums it up. Everything hurt, my shoulder felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand little knives, and I just needed a minute. But…after just a minute it was on to the next thing, the run. My first goal was to run the first 6 miles, straight through. I knew this would set me up momentum wise to keep it rolling and remind myself that I could, in fact, do this for another 20.2 miles. Step by step I started ticking the miles away. I packed fuel in my tri-suit, but also made sure to always grab something at every aid station: a few bites of banana, sips of a gatorade, pretzels, etc. Once I got through the first six miles, I kept up the pace but started walking through the aid stations as my planned time to reset, refocus, and keep it going.

The course was HILLY, especially in the back section, but something came over me and I kept shuffling along running up and down and up again. The family and friends of all the athletes that set up camp in that section were incredible. They were blasting music, had incredible signs, and created so much energy, it was almost palpable. Bonus was that it was a 3 loop course so not only did I get extremely familiar with the course, but I got to see my family a lot which was a bonus, however I will say it was a bit disheartening when you looped by the finish, heard other athletes finishing, while you had one or two loops left.

8:40PM: With about four miles left, my dad let me know that I could beat my time…but it was going to be close. No more walking through aid stations, it was fight time. All light was lost, just the sound of my feet on the pavement, the moon to light my way, and fellow athletes encouraging others along. I met a friend in those last few miles and he absolutely helped me finish that race. His name was Ricky—an elite marathoner “back in the day”— racing in his 3rd Ironman of the year. He had a cool Irish accent and when I thought I needed a break, he didn’t let me stop in a very encouraging and coach like way. I shared my goal of crossing that line under 14 hours and he too made it his goal to help me get there, it truly was incredible. A complete stranger who became an instant supporter.

9:28PM: Ricky and I got to point where you either went straight for another loop or turned right for the final stretch to the finish…we turned right. It was a deceivingly long way to the finish, but as we crossed the final bridge we could hear the announcer and cheers of the crowd, we knew we were close. Ricky was so kind to let me have my moment as he pulled up and let me kick it in to the finish.

And a few minutes later when I realized I finished and could celebrate!

9:30PM: I crossed the finish line! There truly aren’t words that can describe that finish line feeling. A mixture of pride, joy, happiness, and relief that I not only survived, but did in fact meet my goal. Volunteers would catch each athlete at the finish line, get you medical attention if needed, provided blankets, food, and hand you off to friends and family once you could walk.

9:35PM: Reunited with the family, and it feels so good, and a bit painful. Chills take over my body, I’m starving but don’t feel like eating, my legs are too cramped to move, but the celebration begins. Of course Mom and Paige brought dry clothes, watermelon I could let melt in my mouth to get some sugar in my system, and the pups licked me to death—partly due to the fact that I was covered in salt, but also to make sure that I was still alive.

After cheering on the other athletes, thanking Ricky for helping me get through the final miles, and getting feeling back into my legs—it was time to head home. A hot shower, whatever food I could tolerate, and passing out post shower is all I can remember.

The next day was a combination of eating almost all day as I started to make up for the lack of fuel the night before, being in and out of sleep, attending the awards ceremony, and getting a leg massage from mom. The recovery process didn’t stop there. It was many days of massage, stretching, hydrating, moving, sleep, and having memories of the day come back into focus.

Cheers to a fabulous event, an incredible support crew, and a memory of a lifetime!