Full Disclosure

Full disclosure…

Or “the race that wasn’t supposed to be - at least not today “

It’s been over twelve weeks since 70.3 Lake Placid. I know I did not do a race report. In fact, I didn’t talk about it all for 3 weeks because I was so pissed. Not like me to get pissed off about a performance but this one was supposed to be different. It might seem as if its too late for a race report, but its connected to the end point.

Truth be told I was most worried about the swim. Also, not like me. I only had a couple of open water opportunities this season and they were disasters with a couple of wetsuit panic attacks. I decided I was just going to put my head down and have a nice relaxing swim. Even relaxing I knew I’d be okay and not need to worry about the 1:10 cut off.  And, I decided to use a different strategy and go out with a group that was one pace slower than I expected to be. This way, maybe I could get out in front have clean water. That was a great strategy for the swim. I had clean water and I was on the cable 97% of the way. I never stopped to get around anyone or to sight. When I got out of the water and looked at my watch I was blown away. My goal for the day was a PR in each leg of the race and overall. That would’ve meant sub :35 in the swim. I kept thinking “do I really waste that much time in the water when I’m panicked or in a mod that I would have been that much faster?” My watch said 21:50 - how could that be? What a slacker I’ve been!  I was a few miles into the bike before I figured it out……yards, not time idiot 2150 yards. I had a good laugh about that. Nevertheless, it was a good swim strategy and I was relaxed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a good bike strategy starting two minutes later on the swim.

I was so psyched for the bike even though I was concerned about the hills. People think Colorado is full of hills. But the front range is flat as a pancake. If you want hills, it’s in the mountains where it’s not safe to bike. Well, at least it isn’t if you are me. I’m sure Miranda does just fine. I’ve always hated that first hill on the course pass the ski jumps more than any other hill on the course, but I surprised myself climbing it. And, I surprise myself with how much I enjoyed the descent into Keene. It was interesting watching other people sitting on the Side of the road catching their breath before the next part of the course - their life flashing before their eyes once again. I stayed steady on 9N and was right where I needed to be. The next challenge would be the cherries. The first time I climb them I stopped before the last one, pulled over and cried. LOL. I was so tired and there was no way I thought I could get up the last hill. (it’s funny now but it wasn’t then!) But again, I was surprised at how comfortable I was.

I had not ever been on the new part of the course, so I didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t a lot of climbing but there wasn’t a lot of speed either and it seemed to go on forever and I felt myself letting the fear of what was ahead get to me. I also should’ve noted a decrease in my energy level and increased my nutrition. I was hungry and was scouting bananas at every aid station. That had never happened before, but I wasn’t mindful about it. I was too worried about the climb out of Wilmington. I was starting to get cold and feeling defeated before I even got to the turn onto 73.  I was right at the 3 hr mark. Once I got it in my head that I couldn’t possibly make T2 in time to meet my goal – the biggest goal I had for the day - so why try? Save for the run. Total mistake because I wasn’t watching the overall time. I saw Mindy Lu on my way in to transition and just shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. It wasn’t supposed to go that way – not today. I had absolutely no idea at that point that I had missed the cut off by one minute. Starting one group back in the swim cost me two minutes.

There was one last opportunity for a PR in the run. But that quickly disappeared when, about 2 miles in, I asked some spectators what time it was. Then it all hit me. I probably already DNF’d and I certainly wasn’t going to make it under eight hours no matter how much of a PR I had.  I started walking and contemplated turning around and calling it quits. I have no idea why I continued. The further I went, the more negative noise I gathered in my head and I just couldn’t get back in the game. “See, what were you thinking PR’s – pfft.” “you are never going to get better at this” “you came all the way from Colorado to fail…again.” “face it, you are NOT an athlete.” And on and on and on.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way not today. I was supposed to finally get to that oval. I was supposed enter that oval in the bests shape I had been in in years. I was supposed to enter that oval having survived breast cancer. I was supposed to enter that oval ready to start some exciting new things.

Instead it was my worst time for the bike and the run and my overall 70.3’s. Oh yeah and another Lake Placid course DNF. I was angry, devastated and mostly embarrassed. I got over the finish line and went straight toward Mindy Lu and burst into tears. All I could say it was “it wasn’t supposed to be that way - not today!”

For three weeks I was crabby. I didn’t keep up with my workouts. I ate whatever I wanted. And then it all surfaced. It wasn’t so much about the race as it was about credibility.  The plan post-race was to celebrate that I had recently completed my USAT Level 1 coaching certification and I had officially started a business to coach cancer survivors. That race was supposed to give me the last thing I needed to add to a year of getting fit and surviving cancer……….. credibility.

I finally picked myself up off the ground and started my workouts again. Then I had a little talking to from my coach – perfect timing.  I decided I was going to end the season with a PR even if it killed me. I ran 72 miles in 15 days - all at the pace I knew I needed to PR the Rocky Mountain half marathon. No faster and no slower.  For the first time, I did not waiver from my goal while I was out there on the course.  I had finally learned that I have a habit of giving up. Not giving up and quitting but giving up on effort.

I am a USAT Level 1 Certified Coach. And this week I was hired as one of four coaches for Colorado Wild Women. A team of 50 women new to triathlon - many of them cancer survivors.

On to Disney!

Last month marked the two-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis.  If you’re reading this and you have already donated to my Leukemia and Lymphoma pediatric research initiative – thank you! If you have not, I would be honored if you would do that now.     https://pages.lls.org/tnt/rm/wdw20/DArmstrong

Accountablity

Who writes a blog post once a year, or maybe once every other year? No one. Except me. This is my public commitment to make it more of a habit!

This weekend I will be participating in my first triathlon since September of 2013 in Skaneatles. It is a sprint (750 yard swim, 17.3 mile bike and a 3.1 run) My goal? a refresher before LP 70.3 in September. (If I can get there!) The swim is short so no wetsuit. I am actually a bit nervous about it based on my two ows experiences two weeks ago. Not at all a relaxing swim. My head was up every 100 yards, trying to catch my breath and relax. My second attempt was better with a different wetsuit, but still not what it should be. So, Sunday - no wetsuit. I had built up my running

Someone told me I should read David Goggin's book, and then I read Atomic Habit, and 5 second Rule, and Endure, the Alchemist, and Soar. Wow I've been missing a lot by not making reading a priority. Some things have not changed at all since I last posted: we are still in Colorado, I am still looking for my next career move. Some things have changed 360 degrees. Let me focus on that for a minute. I got a coach. I lost some more weight and gained some more strength.

This is my day, everyday....

My alarm clock is now on the other side of the room. No more snooze. No more turning it off and sleeping another hour. I am up by 6, usually by 5. While my coffee is brewing, the dishwasher gets emptied, and I start any laundry that needs to be done.

I have an accountability mirror- it is a whole new ball game. The idea came from Goggin's book, but I took it a bit further. Every month I choose 10 things that have to happen every day. I always start with making the bed (also a new thing!) I do not get back in bed (the hardest item every. single. day.) I do my workout, spend at least 3 hour on the job search, and 1 hr reading ( I have read 14 books since April - more than I have read in a long time!) I have a to-do list that changes every month and i pick something off that for the day (you know - all those tedious things you've been meaning to do forever but never get to like closing the NY bank accounts!)

For the first three months I spent an hour everyday purging or organizing paper, clothes, art supplies, emails, photos, books, old school work, a box of my father's keepsakes, items from the 1990 house fire that I had not been able to part with and unloading many, many unused and unnecessary material objects. That's 90 hours of cleaning up life.  It is an amazing feeling. Last week I found a letter from 1978 that my sister wrote to me when I was away visiting family. She was 6.

You know what I have learned - its hard! And I mean really hard.  Its a constant struggle to stay focused, to not say "oh the hell with the schedule today," or spend the whole day reading the really good book, or throw in the towel because...why bother?  In the words of Steve Jobs "remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose."

Someone said to me last week that my whole idea of Ironman was the dance of the finish line. It was never about being an athlete. That was right. It was about doing triathlons not about being a triathlete. It's different training because it doesn't feel like it is training anymore, it feels like being who I am and every event of the past two years has brought me here; epic parallels. From pain and exhaustion, to thinking you'll never be able to do it, pushing through, and maybe somethings puking; epic parallels. It all happens for a reason and I am grateful that I had a wake up call!

Next month is LP 70.3.  I am struggling with how to get there since we thought we'd be home by now. And of course I am nervous - not a lot of bike climbing here believe it or not. But this is what I am hanging onto - I passed people on the bike leg of that sprint. Uphill, downhill and on the flats. No big deal to many, but to me it was proof of so many things!

Big shout out to my friend Maura for completing her first Ironman this past weekend - epic parallels!

If You Can, I Can

I had a colleague at Syracuse ....I don't call her a friend because true be told, we didn't like each other very much in the beginning. But we did have an impact on each other's lives. Little did I know at the time how much of an impact she would have on me! In 2010 I participated in the first Syracuse Irongirl. I took my medal to work on Monday to show it off. When I showed Carol and told her and the others gathered about the experience and how great it felt to accomplish something you didn't think possible, she said "I'm going to do it next year. If you can do it, I can do it." I took it as a compliment, though I'm not sure it was. I bought her a beginner's triathlon book and connected her to the local tri club and she started training. And then...cancer, brain cancer. But you know what, it didn't stop her. She trained right through her treatment. She started that race and she finished! She was the very last to finish with a crowd of people cheering her on and not a dry eye at the finish line. One of the most powerful things I've even seen. About six months later she lost her battle. I have a picture that sits in my office of her crossing that finish line. Many times, during my own treatment I would think of Carol and wonder how the hell she trained through chemo!? I couldn't even convince myself to walk to the mailbox some days!

When I returned home after my walks at the start of my training, I was always making a mental note of a particular driveway on our street. I wasn't really sure why at first. Later, when my walks were longer and more tiring, I'd see the driveway, enter my garage, sit on the step and just sob. One day someone posted an article on survivors’ guilt and I recognized the signs. That driveway is connected to the house of a friend who is still fighting her own battle - one that is and has been much more difficult than mine. She has two beautiful young daughters and an amazing husband. They were a Godsend to us during my battle. Why was I okay and she wasn't? Why did Carol lose her fight and I didn’t? I decided that there was really only one thing to do with that guilt - "committing to a life of significance in honor of those still fighting or who have lost their battle." After 55 years, I have a personal mission statement!

That is why I accepted the very generous Disney offer. Yes, I got a lot of attention - embarrassing amounts sometimes. One special family spent their whole weekend hosting me and keeping me company. And really, I had no business being on a marathon course at this stage of training. But if just one cancer patient with a port in their chest, a mirror in their bathroom that reflects someone they don't know, and a pharmacy of meds on their kitchen counter realizes that it does get better because they heard the story, then it was worth it.

Selfishly, there was plenty in it for me too. I met a group of people who already knew their mission statement, already “committing to a life of significance in honor of those still fighting or who have lost their battle." Survivors, those who lost parents, children, spouses and friends. People who don't just raise money one time so they can run a race at some awesome place. The people who brought me to Disney, Pop's Warriors, are doing that every year, all year long. They are raising their children to do the same. I saw more compassion, more men crying, more grateful survivors and more hope than you can imagine. I knew they were good people before I got there, but until I saw them together and immediately felt a part of their family, until I saw their tears, their joy and their fight, I didn't know how pure their souls were.

The other highlight for me was the inspiration I experienced. There were people on that course who finished treatment in December! One person who ran all four races, 48.6 miles in four days, and then flew home to start treatment on Monday morning. And those are only the ones I know about. There was also inspiration that came from my thoughts of Carol. This time it was me saying “If you could, I can!”

And of course, there is the medal. It wasn't about the medal, but it’s always about the medal a little bit right?! That part comes next when I finish my race report.......... In the meantime, a friend posted this statement on FB on Sunday. It was something I wrote in 2011 after my first marathon. Eight years later is truer than I knew back then. I'm dedicating it this time to my newest friends, Pop's Warriors.

The Finish Line
January 13, 2011 at 9:33 AM
There is a silence that comes after and is hard to explain to those who were not there. You feel separated from everyone around you having lived an experience that others can’t possibility understand. It must be similar to the way cancer patients feel – chemo and radiation tearing them down to the point where they think that they have absolutely nothing left to take the next step. I’d like to say it was an easy run, an enjoyable run, or even a rewarding run, but it was not. It was a test, it was painful, it was hard beyond my wildest dreams and I wanted to give up so many times. But the reality is that when I crossed the finish line I was done. The cancer patient has to endure, has to run again, and again and again before their finish line. I did not understand the connection between endurance sports and raising money for cancer before my run. But now I understand that there are no truer words than “There is no finish line until there is a cure.”

Humbled

In October I knew Humbled would be the title of my next entry - it has been the theme of my first few months back.  I just didn’t realize the full impact of it until this week. Bear with me, I promise this all comes back to triathlon.

We aren’t doing Christmas this year. No decorations and no presents.  We’re not being the Grinch, we just don’t have the energy. We didn’t really do Christmas last year because I had just had my surgery and wasn’t working. We didn’t really do Christmas the year before because ML’s trigeminal neuralgia was an issue and she was getting ready to have surgery at Hopkins and I was flying back and forth to Denver and the new job.  Yes, it’s been a tough year, but we have always known that there are so many people way worse off than we are and do our best to focus on the positive and being grateful.  We are healthy, safe, and have some of the best family and friends in the world.  There are new babies in the family! And, this is a biggie, a PhD in the family!! 

Still, some days are hard. Last week was hard. In November we came very close to losing my 94-year-old mother-in-law. Family members flew in, arrangements were discussed, and a lot of tears shed. Miraculously, she rallied! She is in a rehab center and one of us was getting there every day to oversee her recovery. Last Tuesday the place was “in isolation.” A stomach bug was raging through the population and they asked people to stay away for a couple of days. Too late…. three days later it raged through our house.  You know how you have that one time in your life when you were so sick you will never forget it? Mine was January of 1988 when I was living in Madison on Warren Street. Well, it was, until last week. Right in the middle of all this I learned that I would not move forward in a search I was more excited about than anything I’ve looked at. (wow you can’t make this stuff up! It sounds worse than it is… We are healthy, safe, and have some of the best family and friends in the world!)

I hadn’t really shared this, but my ultimate goal for this first segment of “training” was to prove to myself that I could walk 26.2 miles. It is a deal breaker – if I can’t do that, I can’t do an IM. I dug out my training schedule from my first marathon (Disney 2011) and put it all in my inspiration journal and got to work. (Surprise, 26.2 landed on the Disney Marathon weekend.) I did 100 miles in November and was all set for the long walks in December. Last week I had an 18 miler scheduled.  It didn’t happen. Suffice it to say, the events of the month, 4 days of inactivity and missing the most important mileage week of the training, I was at that door- the one you walk through when you're done. Five days, then six days, went by and I was still not moving. I was on FB and I saw the runDisney post “One month from today! Are you ready?” On a whim, I wrote something about what I’d been up to thinking maybe it would help me be accountable and get me out on that 18 miler.  This is what I wrote….

“Tough year - fought cancer, no work. But I'm a fighter. Ran Disney 2011,12, &13 and loved it. I can't afford Florida this year but have been training to walk/run with all of you virtually on the 13th!! 18 miler this weekend. (I'm in CO so you will be warmer than me!! lol) ENJOY the magic!” 

There were several very nice comments. Still I didn’t move.  Then this….

“Deb Armstrong...This really moved me... and I see we have a mutual friend, I would like to speak with you. You should be in Florida with us and I want to see if I can help make that happen. Please PM me!” 

Let me add a few other coincidences in here:  the mutual FB friend was one of the 5 team-in-training angels from my first marathon (see previous blogs), that angel just happened to be this guy’s TNT coach, and this guy just happen to be on FB to see my post among the thousands of other comments. And oh ya, TNT just happen to be where endurance sports all started for me…hmmmmm.

I pm’d him (let’s call him Charlie.) I acknowledged his offer to help and politely declined. Well, Charlie is a top fundraiser for TNT and it is not hard to see why – he was not taking no for an answer. I got this response with a link to his fundraising video….

“Hi Deb. I totally understand your hesitation. BUT, I’d love for you to think about it. [A group of my friends and I have] already discussed. If you want to race, you should race. We have confirmed an entry into the marathon for you or if you prefer, the half. We will take care of everything. Airfare, hotel and race entry. Your post moved us all. The fact that you were training virtually is amazing dedication and we want you to be part of the team with us, no strings attached. This is why we do this!!! I get the fear of being swept, but everyone needs a balloon lady story anyway!! Please consider!!  This is purely us reading your story, being moved and wanting to do something special for someone. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Just come have a great weekend with a bunch of runners and cancer fighters. Watch this and then try to say no!”

When it comes to this sport, many people have applauded me for never giving up and thanked me for being their inspiration. The truth is, I want to give up ALL. THE. TIME.  I HAVE given up many times… This is me!  Then, some angels come along and inspire me, this time in a way that was beyond my wildest dreams. Some of those angels from 2011 I know well. This one I knew for 15 minutes, eight years ago. If not for being FB friends, I probably wouldn’t have responded to Charlie.

I think I’m supposed to do this. So, I’m going to Disney! I wasn’t training for a race with time requirements, so I might do the half, or maybe meet the balloon lady personally this time. Either way, I am so humbled and grateful. I can’t wait to meet my new angels and tell you all about them! I have to go for a walk now!

Merry Christmas!

This is Me....

November 14, 2017. Breast Cancer. Invasive ductal carcinoma - ER + PR + HERS. Stage 2, grade 3. Right breast, 2.7 cm tumor, lymph nodes negative. And, for those of you who care or understand, oncotype score 35.  Lumpectomy Dec 7th. Twenty weeks of chemo - four red devil infusions and 12 taxol. Four weeks of radiation. Sure, I knew I was going to go through some crappy shit for a few months, but then it would be over and I'd simply get back to life. HA - Funny how your mind plays tricks on you in order to cope. I didn't really know I had cancer until eight months later.

One day shortly after my diagnosis I was thinking about what I wish I had done more of, what had I left unfinished.  I didn't think about this because my prognosis was bad. In fact it was very good. But, cancer just makes you think about things differently. Surprisingly the first thing to come to mind (after of course the spending more time with family) was reading - I wish I read more. I used to,but somewhere it got lost in the shuffle.  There is nothing better than coffee on the deck (especially on Sunday) and a book.  I hardly ever do that. The second thing was no surprise. Ironman - unfinished business. The words I wrote to my coach in my 2013 "why?" section of my race plan came back:

• Ok, so here it is. I've been thinking about this a lot and had not been coming up with the thing until I got my bid number. My father was big into numbers and signs – I got that from him. J  I was looking for some meaning in the numbers when I realized they were the month and day that my father died. Why on earth would the day he died be significant – you know rather than his birthday or something a little more pleasant?
  
  
  I hated that day and not just because of the obvious. In his last days, my father  struggled because he was so reluctant to let go without having taken care of the things he was supposed to or wanted to do. I know this because he kept repeating them in his very restless, semi-conscience, morphine state. "I have to do …. I have to take care of ……"
  
  
  I do not want to die that way. My bid number is the answer to my "why."

I decided that when I was done with treatment, I'd get back to Ironman.

Fast forward eight months.  I was about a month out of chemo and I was dealing with some neuropathy in my feet. Wasn't I suppose to be back to normal? The nurses said it might be permanent. Then, in my first appointment with the radiation nurse I was told that I would need to stay out of the sun for 6 - 12 months. After that I would need to use sunscreen to protect my right shoulder and shoulder blade area because it would always be sensitive. Permanent side effects?! There was no going back to normal. This was the "new normal" I kept hearing people talk about. And it hit me - I had cancer and I was pissed. Finally I realized why so many people say "f' cancer." I had been wanting to climb the 200 step incline at Miller Park since before treatment started. We did it that weekend. At the bottom when I was finished, I yelled "f*%! cancer" as loud as I could.


No more excuses. I gave myself two years and started a plan. August I would focus on finishing radiation, paying attention to my eating habits, and walking - walking with purpose as one of my former coaches would say! With a bad knee and the neuropathy, any 26.2 in my future would have to be a walk and it would have to be a fast walk! I created an inspiration log and broke the two years into quarters.  My first quarter (September to December) focus would be healthy eating and building my walking speed and distance.

August included 39 miles of walking, a dozen very easy strength session, and the loss of a few pounds. I wasn't sleeping until 9:00 or 10:00 a.m. because I laid awake until 2:00 a.m. I felt like I was walking taller. I started wearing exercise clothes again. I climbed those stairs again. I started remembering what it felt like before.

There are several people on FB who are great inspirations to me. Last week one of them wrote this...

• "People say I'm crazy, why put my body through this?? Because this is who I am. Training for Ironman has gotten me through some of my darkest times."

Someone replied ....

• "It’s the pain I think I’m addicted to because of the mental strength it gives me to get through life’s challenges."

This would be a good place to mention that two weeks after my diagnosis I lost my job. We couldn't move because of the HMO that our cobra covered.  Our family and friends are on the other side of the country and we know virtually no one in Colorado. (though the couple we do know have been phenomenal friends!)  There's been no income for nine months and I have no idea what's next. No idea who I was suppose to be now. My point is, it's been a little dark and I could totally relate to those quotes!

I was driving to radiation after reading that post. I thought about my early morning walks and the four miles I was able to do only two weeks after starting. I thought about climbing the 200 step incline. It felt great and it all helped with the stress.  (I don't think it is any coincidence that this was at the same time I was seeing eyelashes and eyebrows again!!!) I thought, wow have I missed this! This is me.

Yesterday was my last day of radiation. Perfect timing for starting my "new normal" plan today -  September 1st.

P.S. I'm keeping this hair cut - I think its kinda bad ass :)

IMLP 2014 - Part 1

2012 – DNF; 2013 –DNF; 2014 – DNS…….

I remember the date not because it was the day I made the decision not to show up at the start line, but because it was the same day we lost Lucy – my little sheltie princess I adored. It was Tuesday, February 25^th. I had knee surgery in October and was doing better for a while, but then reinjured it in early January.  Nevertheless, I kept going.  I was feeling really great otherwise, was eating healthy, was at my lowest weigh in ten years, and loved my new bike and especially my power meter.  A few weeks earlier I had gotten a promotion – it came with A LOT of hours and considerable stress but it was a great career opportunity. That morning I was at the end of a strength session with my "trainer" and I couldn't gracefully get up off the floor. He looked at me and said "Deb, what are you doing?"  He wasn't referring to the one-legged dance that got me up off the floor. "Take the year off. Focus on the new job and give yourself time to heal." This wasn’t the first time I was hearing "stop" but I had refused to listen. I drove back to my building on campus to get ready for work.  I put the car in park and it finally sunk in – I was done; my third attempt wasn't even going to be an attempt.  In the middle of my sobbing, my new boss pulled in to the parking lot. WTF? I pulled it together and slipped down the back stairs to the locker room, totally focused on work and not looking back……for months!

It wasn't a conscious effort to forget.  The new job just lent itself to the option of being totally consumed. I stopped working out – totally; not even one walk around the block. I stopped being on FB – that's where all my tri-friends were. I stopped going to tri club meetings, stopped watching the videos, stopped reading the list serve and stopped worrying about what I was eating.  The only thing I did was work.  By June I was in the worst shape I'd been in four years. I'd gained……ok, I'm not even going to say how much it is so embarrassing!  It was at about that time that my coach dumped me. LOL – she didn't really "dump" me - I mean after all, I hadn’t been doing her workouts for months.  She had asked me if I wanted to continue but I waited nearly two-weeks to reply and she missed the email.  One day I didn't get my automated workout reminder email. The same day I realized that I hadn't gotten any list serve emails in a couple of days. While I wasn't actively looking for them, I clearly knew they were there – like a safety net of sorts.  I freaked out!  It was the wake-up call I needed. (Of course, she probably knew that – they always know!)

I slowly started to get in the water and to get on my bike – not so much to train, but because I wasn't going to Lake Placid, even as a spectator, in the shape I was in! And I had to go to Lake Placid because the house was rented and it wasn't like we could get our money back.  And I had never officially withdrawn; therefore I was getting my [VERY EXPENSIVE] swag! So I tried to getting used to the fact that I would be on the side lines – probably for good. This would be a good time to go make peace with it all and move on with other goals.

The Wednesday before IM I got in the car and headed north. I thought it would be hard once I got there but something unexpected happened on the way there.  I started reliving 2013 in my head and every bit of it made me smile. IT WAS A GREAT DAY! Despite the lack of a finish line experience, there was absolutely nothing to be sad about. I was good.

IMLP Race Report - Part 4 "My After"

My After

As we passed the jumps I saw BL and KW at the top of the hill. L, my driver, pulled over so I could let them know what was happening. They were waiting to run me in. I told them they were going to let me run the oval and cross the finish and asked if my mom was there. They said yes.  L dropped me at the Main Street and 73 corner and let me walk to the oval. Unfortunately she was going back to pick up several other athletes.

I saw two of the T2 coaches walking toward me. They had not seen that I was dropped off and so I had to explain that I was done. I told them that I was going to the oval. On the way there I met the DJ who liked my singing.

I stopped at the entrance of the oval to wait until the other "official" runners had passed through. In the meantime a staff member came over to me and thanked me for understanding - but why wouldn't I? We know going into this that we have 17 hours. My time was up. I had a great day overall and was amazed that I got as far as I did. As I stood there, I realized that I did not want to go over the finish line after all. If I had completed all 140.6 miles, maybe. But I had gotten a ride "home." I explained that I had changed my mind and gave him my chip.

On the spectator side, just inside the oval, I found my mom, waiting for me to come in. At first she looked at me and asked why I wasn't on the other side of the fence. She got a little choked up, I got a little choked up, but I didn't want to go there. She told me I did great and that she was proud.  We made plans to meet back at the house and I was going to find ML.

As I made my way through the spectators, people started to congratulate me. At first I didn't quite know how to respond. I started to get a little rattled. At one point I found myself getting a angry. "Can't you see that I don't have a @(*#!@ medal around my neck!?" But I just kept looking for my friends. The music got even louder. The crowd kept getting louder. But soon all I could hear was Mike Reilly's voice. "Mary Sue you are an IRONMAN." "John Smith you are an IRONMAN." That was suppose to be me - my heart was sinking and I had to get out of there.

I decided to go up to the team tent to see if the coaches were still there. Maybe they could call someone for me. I met up with CG on my way out. She offered to walk with me. I said she didn't have to. She said "yes I do!" It was right about then that I heard Mike say "and Deborah Armstrong is coming in." Clearly they had sent my name to the announcer before I changed my mind. This was a little disconcerting to the friends and family who were watching the live feed on their computer. Apparently a man stepped right in front of the camera as Mike said my name. Rumor has it that a family member in Nashville could be heard in Lake Placid swearing at the guy to get out of the way - hahaha! And my sister had posted on FB "My sister is an IRONMAN."

I'm not sure how I found the others- maybe I met them along the way or maybe they were at the tent. They tried to reach ML and finally connected. She was on her way. When I saw her coming up Mirror Lake Drive, they helped me up and, you guessed it....I lost it. All I could say was "I worked so hard. I worked so hard." But I didn't stay in that place long - I really did have a great day. I accomplished so many of my goals; I stayed in the moment and enjoyed it all. I kept moving. I didn't give up. I made that bike cut off and that alone was a miracle!

We went back to the house and there was a lot of awkward silence. Two athletes - one made it, one didn't. I don't think anyone really knew what to say. My focus at that point was blueberry pie! Funny how a couple of hours earlier I couldn't eat anything.

Looking at the large number of text and FB messages on my phone, I knew I had better get a quick note out to those that had been watching online before heading to bed. This was my post:

"Here's the short version - after getting through every other cut off by the skin of my teeth (except the swim) I got pulled at mile 21 because I was not going to make the midnight cut off. For those of you who were watching the live feed, they said my name because they offered to let me cross the finish line anyway, but I thought better of that once I got there. Thank you all again for all your support. There were a lot of great positives about the day. More on that later. And no, I will not be signing up again tomorrow. Time for a break!"

That was at about 2:00 a.m. By 9:00 a.m. I was officially registered for IMLP 2014!


Next up....Why?