It was the morning of the big day and all I had to do was stick to the game plan.  I had told everyone my only problem would be holding back and not going after fast guys like an idiot. 

Getting ready for the swim I once again forgot to pull up the straps on my 2 piece DeSoto wetsuit before putting on the top (Tony was there to remind me at the Soma ½ and my little sister saved me this time).  I jumped in the water and made my way to the front, figuring it was my best shot at following a decent swimmer.  With a few minutes left before the cannon, the National Anthem began and we all sang along.  We were louder than the person with the microphone and it was a good way to warm up the lungs for a long day.  The cannon went off and I kept telling myself to relax and find some good feet to draft off of.  I never really found the feet I was looking for, but I was lucky enough to keep the underwater cage fighting to a minimum.  About ¾ of the way through the swim it felt like my face was bruised from the goggles being on my eyes for so long.  This was the first reminder that I had never gone this far before and I couldn’t wait to get out of the water.  2.4 miles in 1:08 and change.  Not bad at all for me and ahead of schedule as I was expecting 1:15-1:20.  I just hoped I didn’t burn too much energy going that fast.

My first time using wetsuit strippers and it was nice not having to wrestle that thing off by myself.  I could get used to that.  I felt good going into the transition tent, and got changed into my riding stuff.  I got all the way to my bike before remembering I never saw my race number belt, and knew I should have left it strapped to my bike.  I had to run back into the tent and dig through all the bags.  I found my bag but came up empty until a volunteer found it tucked behind a chair.  It cost me a 10+ minute transition but I figured if this was the only miscue on the day I would take it.

The bike ride went exactly as I planned, even with the wind and the heat I was able to hold the pace I wanted comfortably.  I took in the 2 bottles of InfiniT, along with the 2 PB& honey sandwiches I brought, and felt I was well fueled for a good marathon.  After 112 miles in 6:04 I was more than ready to get off of that bike and never look at it again.  As I took my shoes off and got close to the dismount line it looked like there were about 5 people who were in no hurry.  They all stood there on their bikes like it was a good spot to take a break.  A volunteer spotted me coming in hot and he could see I wasn’t about to take the break the others were.  He yelled at me to leave my bike with him and after handing it off I squeezed between 2 of the slow pokes.  Saving those 2 seconds proved to be the biggest mistake and I am sure those slow pokes got the last laugh when they saw me in the next few hours. 

I ran to the tent and got into my run shoes feeling solid.  When I got out of transition I went to start my watch for the run and it wasn’t there.  I couldn’t believe it.  Back into the tent I go, feeling like I had made this kind of rookie mistake just a few hours before.  Oh yeah I had.  This time I did not get so lucky and my Garmin Forerunner was nowhere to be found.  I must have knocked it off squeezing between those two clowns at the bike dismount line and I would now pay a huge price for those seconds I saved.  I had never run more than a couple miles without a heart rate monitor, and rarely ran without pace because I always go too fast too soon.  Sound like a recipe for disaster?  It was exactly that.

I got going on the run feeling very good and telling myself, “just when you think you are going slow enough, go slower and you should be good”.  I can only figure now that I must have been averaging about an 8:30 per mile pace when I planned on about a 9:30.  I lasted to about mile 10 when the walks got longer and the “run” got slower.  I knew I was in trouble when the spectators comments went from “looking good Kris” to “are you OK??”.  My stomach stopped absorbing anything and felt completely full.  At about mile 14 I puked about a gallon of water and wondered if I was going to be able to finish this thing.  I never thought walking could hurt as much as it did, and I actually had to take breaks from it.  Most of the second half of the marathon is a blur, but at some point I was able to start jogging a little bit, but it was mostly the dreaded death march.  With about a half mile to go, my brother in law Daniel passed me and I couldn’t help but think “he’s always late, but he picks now to be on time?” and I jogged up beside him.  He asked if I could run to the finish and I didn’t think I could.  He asked if I wanted him to wait for me and I told him no, I didn’t want to ruin his finish.  Next thing I know he starts picking up the pace, and I’m thinking “real nice, he has no clue what torture I’ve been through the past 10 miles and now he’s going to crack me”.  I asked him if he was trying to run me into the medical tent and he just kept going.  I don’t know how I was able to hang, but rounding the final turn I asked if he was going to sprint it out.  He said he was and I figured after walking for a couple hours I could at least make it look good for 50 yards.  I don’t know how good it looked, but that finish line looked a lot better.  After the announcer confirmed that I was an Ironman, I was convinced that the squeeze was definitely worth the juice.  Total time 12:52.45