IM DSM Run: Runnin' With the Devil

 And here we are, part 3 of our Iron saga, and on to my favorite part of any triathlon - the run!  In case you're just tuning in to this novella - I came, I saw, could I conquer? - first a nice, easy 2.4 mile swim in Gray's Lake, then a beautiful 112 mile bike in the heat, hills, and gorgeous Iowa countryside, and now it was time to cap this race off with a nice 26.2 mile run through Des Moines parks and downtown Des Moines!  

I opted to change my top in T2, as the race kit was chafing a bit at the arms and after being drenched on the bike, I needed a change of pace.  I grabbed my roadkill singlet (badass factor quotient) and lubed up sunscreen, grabbed shoes, and filled my tri shorts with a few gels.  A wonderful volunteer hit me with sunscreen and filled my aquapod, and I was off!  I hot the porta potty for a quick stopper on my way out of T2 for a cool time of 7 minutes and change and was out for the marathon in 7:31 elapsed time.

Now, it's time to talk goals.  I've sort of been waffling during the whole training process, as the concept of a time goal was eluding me for this race.  I started out hot with a sub 12, then as I began to train, I saw more of an 11:30 - a 1:10-1:15 swim (nailed it) a 6:00 bike (also nailed it) and then a 4:00 marathon.  This was totally doable for all of my training work, and even though the goal scared the hell out of me, I was all in for it.  

Until Iowa introduced the concept of Kona like conditions into it's mix!  (Wait, scratch that.  The heat and humidity topped both 2018 and 2019 Kona - so hey - I was getting to race World's without qualifying!).  I hot mile 1 in at an 8:06 pace.  My legs felt amazing.  I was on fire!  Wait...I really was.  I realized really quickly that the temps were just too damned hot for that pace and I would literally burn myself out quickly, so I slowed it the hell down.  Miles 2 and 3 clocked in around 9:15, where I stopped at each aid station to fill er up with ice.  It was only 3 miles into this marathon and I knew a run/walk strategy was the only way to play it.  I saw Ken at an out and back and figured he was about 10 minutes ahead of me.  I saw Skye Moench, the female overall winner, looking like she was absolutely dying (To be fair, she was on loop 3 and I was on loop 1).  It was already brutal.  I shelfed my ego, and that pithy 11:30 goal, and immediately revised it to a sub 12 goal - which would require a 4:28 marathon.  We were on to 10:00 miles.  I can do this.  I managed just as such for the first ten miles - using my extremely well honed Ironman 3:1 run/walk.  I would run 100 paces with my right foot, my left foot, both feet, then walk 100 paces.  So scientific (note the pink font).  And realistically, you can laugh, but it worked.  I had something to think about something to focus on, and at every aid station, I would stuff ice wherever I could stand it, and grab a quick piece of fruit or gatorade (the stuff tasted terrible but I know it was the only thing at the aid

stations with salt, which was key.  There were no electrolytes on course and the pretzels were inedible and "lightly salted" which was a total bummer.  Note that I own my lack of training with electrolytes and not bringing any with me - this would have likely been helpful, but when youre 9 hours into a race, you have to think on your feet and make the best decisions in the moment). 

I made many quick friends on the course - again, even though i was dying, I was still having a blast and in the "Ironman, baby!" frame of mind.  I taught my strategy to may people who said I looked so strong - but couldn't keep a run buddy to save my soul, as they would fade out.  I saw Ken at mile 7, who was havign a struggle bus of a day, but as the amazing friend he is, after I hung with him for a few minutes, he told me to go get it and nail that sub 12.  I saw my friend "kiss ass" from the bike, who was just ahead of me and we exchanged high fives.  I saw so many people out on the course pacing runners via bike or running - (which is totally illegal and annoying but I stayed in my own lane - I couldn't control how they raced).  I joked with people, and laughed.  It was still awesome.  

With my run/walk, I hit the half marathon point in 2:10, right on pace to do what I wanted to.  YASSSS.  I also looked down at my shoe at this point and saw a big red mark by my baby toe where somehow I had started bleeding.  Well, we can del with that in a few hours.  SMH.  At this point, I passed a bunch of spectators (Iowa is friggin awesome) and asked to borrow a lawn chair and a beer.  They laughed and I asked one guy with a phone what the temp was.  He told me it was 98 degrees.  Holy WTF.  This was ridiculous.  I laughed ironically to myself, thinking how I had trained for this crap back in September for St. George, where we got a damned bomb cyclone instead.  Here we were, in the midwest - no bomb cyclone, just runnin' with the devil in the middle of a the surface of the sun.  It was definitely a day to remember!

The second half of the marathon was tough, as they always are.  The twist here was some of the aid stations had run out of ice.  WTF.  This was absolutely a killer - I hate to complain, but there was no way to cool down, and my pace dipped.  I hit the jackpot at mile 16 and stuffed so much ice down my bra that I went from a B cup to a D cup (do I know how to work it or what).  Just past the aid station, some guy was asking for ice as he missed it, and I offered him my boob ice somewhat sheepishly - as in, uh, buddy, this might be gross, but.... his face lit up and I gave him a big handful and we had a good laugh about it.  He made a joking comment about my ass at this point, which I don't really remember, but it was funny to two delirious athletes, so we let it go.  The back half continued muc like that - I ran with a woman for awhile trying to place 3rd in her AG for 50-54 (she did) who's husband was riding next to her blasting Def Leppard.  We joked around about classic rock and I think I impressed him with my knowledge, but I eventually moved on.  About mile 20 I made a friend who was hecling runners with a can of beer and four letter words - we exchanged some playful sarcastic banter and he asked for my number.  When I replied "536" he snorted, dropped his beer, and I was off.  I ran with local Qt2 coach Dave Zimmet for awhile, who was a lap ahead of me and validated my assessment of our time goals for this course - at this point I had ditched the notion of a sub 12, and was aiming just to PR (which was a 12:50 on the butt flat course of Maryland, in the 65 degree cool).  With 5k to go, I realized I could probably shake out to about a 12:20, and made that my goal.  I paced it wel and didn't rush, enjoying my run/walk strategy and smiling big, which, once I hit the final stretch of downtown, brought huge cheers - these people were excellent!!

The nature of the run course was that you had to pass the finish line twice, as it was a three looper.  While I wasn't wild about this the first two laps, the third lap....I got to turn left instead of turning around.  And I could see it.  The finish line.  It was still daylight (this has never happened for me) and the Ironman path was there in all its glory, with the finish line in sight.  I saw people cheering.  Mike Reilly's voice was getting louder.  And as I got closer, I felt shivers and choked up, big happy emotions and tears coming to my eyes.  This was it.  I had made it.  The day had been long and hard, but also

amazingly fun.  The months of training, the years since my last Ironman that had been such a downer....they were all behind me.  The finish line came closer and I heard Mike Reilly say, for the third time, "Rae Glaser, you are an Ironman" and my smile got bigger as I flew across the line with a time of 12:18:06, a 32 minute PR and almost 2 hours faster than my last Ironman.

My marathon time was a 4:46, which was way off of what I had projected, but with the carnage on the course (people were passing out left and right, throwing up on the side of the road, and I later found out there was a 16% DNF rate), I was absolutely pleased with my execution.  I got my medal, found "Kiss ass" who was actually in my age group (WHY do they not body mark any more) and had beaten me by 11 minutes and placed 6th in our AG.  Wait - what??  I almost placed??  (I later found I out I held fifth place for a portion of the run, which is wild!)  She and I chatted briefly, and she was in super bad shape, so I flagged medical for her).  I got my morning bag and saw a slew of texts from my amazing friends who had tracked me all day, and called Greg, bursting into happy tears as he congratulated me on my epic day.

I was on top of the world.  A ball of emotions.  What a day.  What a race!  And baby...I was BACK.  While I missed my time goal, I can't for one second be upset about it due to the day, and knew in my heart I would have smashed 12 hours if we hadn't been racing in the middle of a heat advisory (Oh, did I forget that part??)  I hung around post race and watched Ryan (another Rochestarian) and Ken finish - we looked at the grub (which, for an Ironman sponsored by beef had....veggie burgers??) and  walked back to the hotel to shower and collect our gear.

I was such a happy girl.  THIS is what I came for.  And.....on the phone, Greg gave me a little nugget....I placed 7th in my AG.  Shook out to top 20% of women overall, and top 25% of the field.  Holy shit.    According to some sleuthing, there were 3 slots for Kona allocated to my AG, and 3 women already had slots.  Did this mean....I could hardly believe it.  And while I'd never been to awards before, according to Greg, Ken, and Dave....this was the time to go.  So what happened?  Well, stay tuned :-P