After "getting my head together" and again being covered in sunscreen in transition, I headed out on the 26.2 mile run to finish the race. I was feeling surprisingly good as I hit the streets of Louisville.
My first mile was sub-8 minutes even though I was trying to "take it easy." I figured even if I ran the same time as I did last year, I'd beat my time from Madison and if I could cut any time off I'd be within reach of breaking the 13-hour mark.
At about mile 3 the "wheels started to come of the bus" as I suddenly had a huge pain in my right foot. Had it been a lesser amount of pain I'd have thought I had a giant blister formed on my foot, but it felt more like the bottom of my foot had been torn open from the ball of the foot to the start of the arch.
Being only 3 miles in I wasn't sure how such a thing could have formed so quickly, but the fact was it was there and I just had to suck it up and deal with it for at least 4 more hours of running.
The temp for the day was at its highest - 96 degrees and humid - and it began to take its toll on nearly all of us. As I neared the first turn around point I began to see more and more people on the sides of the course and the sight/sound of the ambulance was a regular thing.
I was regularly alternating between running and walking at this point and had a couple of nice conversations along the way. Aid stations are located every mile of an IronMan run course (which rules!) and the first and last things offered at each one are cold, wet sponges. IronMan runners get to be very creative of how the hold onto their sponges and where they figure out how they can keep them attached to themselves. I myself took one set at the beginning and another at the end of each station and squeezed them over my head, back, chest and arms.
Beverages was about the only other thing I could take from the aid stations because the thought of eating anything solid was not a good one. I only choked down one gel on the whole run course. For the record, I should have had at least 4 or 5.
Much like the bike, the first lap of the run was never ending and after getting my special needs bag I was getting close to the turn around again. Much like last year we got frustratingly close to the finish line before turning around and heading out for lap #2.
Unlike last year, this didn't do as much to inspire me as I made the turn and headed back for my second lap. At this point I knew my hopes of cutting time were long gone and as I saw more and more medics treating more and more runners, I really just wanted to get through it.
I made my way back out to the last turn around as I continued to feel worse. I was able to keep alternating between walking and some kind of slow, running-type motion.
The sun had gone down by the time I crossed the mile 25 marker. Not long after I was "running" and as I stopped, a fellow runner yelled at me and said "C'mon, don't stop now! We're too close...let's run this thing out!" So I kept running and stayed just behind him as we made the turn onto 4th street and saw the bright lights of the finish line.
I somehow kept running through the chute before a volunteer helped me stay standing and gave me my medal, finisher's hat and shirt.
Final run time: 5 hours 25 minutes and 12 seconds - exactly 24 minutes slower than last year.
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