Some people and possibly you, might wonder, "what's so special about doing an Ironman Triathlon?" I am sure it is a different experience for everyone; but there is something unique about it. Someone once said, if you're on the outside looking in, it's hard to understand and if you're on the inside looking out, it's hard to explain. I am going to try to explain why my first Ironman experience was such a special and emotional experience for me. I had been doing triathlons for about 18 years and I have always wanted to do an Ironman. But it was mainly a dream. I didn't know when or how that would ever happen. Like most of you, I had other obligations and responsibilities. So it remained; just a dream. Finally when I was 58 years old, I decided that if I was ever going to do an Ironman I had better get on with it. I took a big gulp and entered the Great Floridian Triathlon in Clermont, Florida. There were no qualifying requirements, it was within driving distance and it wasn't held until late October. So I had plenty of time to prepare. Unfortunately, in May of 1998 I developed an illness that lasted over a month. After I was finally well enough to train again, I felt that I didn't have enough time to get do the necessary training required to prepare adequately for an Ironman. So I contacted the race officials and asked to transfer my entry to the following year, 1999. I now had over a year to contemplate, plan, train and get into IM shape. My first step was to complete a Half-Ironman distance event. I chose the Gulf Coast Half-Ironman Triathlon in Panama City Beach, Florida. It is traditionally held on Mother's Day. Each year my children expect me to be home on Mother's Day so they can call me and we can talk on the phone all day. But since I am the Mother, I decided that if they wanted to talk to me that Mother's Day, they would have to come to Florida. I intended to do that race regardless of what day it was. And so I did!

But, bad luck struck again. I suffered a knee injury about two weeks before the race. I did every thing I could think of to make it well. I iced it, I took acupuncture, I had ultrasound, I took hundreds of pain killers and anti-inflammatory medicine and I rested it. I didn't run a step for two weeks. Swimming and cycling caused no pain so I went to Florida anyway with the intention that I would do the best I could on race day. The morning of the race we were told that the breakers in the Gulf of Mexico were 5-6 feet high. The red flags were flying, signifying dangerous water conditions. Ah, that's no problem for triathletes! Actually the breakers were 8-10 feet tall. To put it simply, I was terrified! I had never experienced water conditions that rough. I thought I might die in the ocean. Doing something that you think might kill you is a pretty stupid thing to do. I don't know why I even went into the water. But I did. I had come to Florida to do a Half-Ironman triathlon and I meant to do it. I somehow managed to get past the huge breakers and complete the swim portion.

The cycling leg, 56 miles, was not difficult. But when I started the run I knew I would not be able to run 13.1 miles on my injured knee. It hurt on the first step and continued to get worse with each step. I jogged, hobbled and limped for three miles, at which point I considered I might be courting a permanent injury. So at the 3-mile point, I asked at an aid station for an Ace bandage. A volunteer nurse at the 3-mile mark made an ice pack out of a rubber glove filled with crushed ice and wrapped it around my knee with an Ace bandage. "Necessity is the mother of invention". She told me to get it refilled as often as it melted, and that there would be a nurse at every aid station. So I finished the run, walking 10 miles with a rubber glove filled with ice on my knee. My first Half- Ironman was pretty much a disaster. But I was still entered in the Great Floridian Ironman. So I rested my knee for two complete months. About once a week I'd try to run again. But it would hurt in two or three steps. So I did absolutely no running during that time! By the end of July I was finally able to run without pain. I didn't know how I was going to do that Ironman but I knew that somehow I was going to do it and I needed help.

So, I hired a coach! I found an ad in the back of a triathlon magazine and called Coach Troy. When I told Troy about my injured knee, my age, and my past training and racing experience (which isn't spectacular) he didn't flinch. But then he wanted to know my WEIGHT and 5k time. I consider those statistics top secret and I never tell anyone! But I needed a coach so I told all. He still didn't flinch! Sterling credentials! He was hired and we went to work. And I do mean work! Starting the first week of August until race day on October 23rd. I did nothing but eat, sleep and train. I lost 13 pounds.

My husband and I arrived in Clermont, Florida a day and a half early -- and it was cold! After all my training in 98-degree heat & high humidity (I live on the Texas Gulf Coast) the last thing I was prepared for was cold. It was raining and generally miserable. I was scheduled to do a short 20-minute run, which I did around the motel parking lot between raindrops. I was nervous and probably a little scared. Even though I had done a lot of triathlons in 18 years, the hoopla surrounding an Ironman is a little intimidating the first time.

But I met someone special at the expo. He calmed my nerves a lot with his confidence in my coaching. and training He listened to me, he encouraged me and he talked to me. In fact it turned out that he was one of Troy's associate coaches. He told me he was sure, he was positive I would have a successful race. He gave me confidence. And I will be forever grateful. I met a couple of other people who knew Coach Troy and they assured me that if I had done just half of what he had laid out for me I would do well. It all gradually began to come together. I started to believe in myself! By race morning I had calmed down quite a bit. By the time we were called to enter the water I had everything under control and was completely relaxed. I had come a long way at that point, from being a total basket case to being "in charge".

One other incident set the tone for the entire day. As we were standing in the water waiting for the start, I was talking to two other women standing near me. I said I wished I could relieve the constrictive feeling of the wetsuit around my neck. I actually dislike wearing wetsuits because I find them uncomfortable. I always feel like I am choking. One of my competitors told me to simply not fasten it. I said, "won't it come unzipped?" She assured me it would not. That sounds like such a little thing, but sometimes it's the little things that make all the difference. All my concerns were now eliminated and I was ready to go.

That day was absolutely the most fun and exciting experience I have ever had in my life! The swim was relatively uneventful. Since I consider swimming my first sport, I had no butterflies about the swim leg, even though it was 4,224 yards. I had swam that distance lots of times. My last training week before the taper included over 16,000 yards of swimming. So I was ready. I was very conservative and I actually thought the swim leg was easy. I knew then that the next time I would position myself further up in the body of swimmers because I discovered I wasn't the slowest person in the water after all.

I knew the hills would be hard because I hadn't trained on hills and had no climbing experience. I hate to say it, but I didn't do very well in the hills. There were a lot of them and I walked all of the steepest ones and some that weren't so difficult; because I was exhausted. I thought they would never end! The course description said the first 40 miles were hilly. I was never so glad of anything as I was when I came to the 40-mile marker. I had 72 miles to go and I felt like I "had it made". "Finally!" I thought, "now I can ride like I know I can ride". . At 53 miles into the bike leg, I discovered I was averaging 11.5 mph. Incredibly slow! It occurred to me that I might not make the cut-off time. I was passing another cyclist at that point and I asked him if he thought we would make the cut off? He said, "You might, but I've already packed it in". He told me that you had to average 14 mph to make the cut-off. I decided to see if I could make up some time. I thought to myself, "well it's not over until it's over. I didn't do all that training and come all this way to give up". I would have been heartbroken if I didn't make the cut off time (6:30 PM). I really wanted to do this! I decided I was going to do whatever I could to make it. I wouldn't save anything for the marathon. I'd worry about the marathon later. If I didn't make the bike cut-off, I wouldn't even get the chance to run. So I rode the last 59 miles as hard and as fast as I could go. In cycling lingo -- I hammered 59 miles and I made the cut-off time by 35 minutes. I consider this the big turning point in my change of attitude. At that point, I began to work for it.

As I was approaching the finish line I saw a volunteer ready to help me dismount. I was going too fast and couldn't stop. He caught me but inadvertently put too much weight on one side and I crashed. I couldn't believe it. I was lying on the ground with my bike on top of me and no one could help me. I had to get myself up, dust myself off and get on with my race. After the finish-line fall, I was hurt and angry. I could barely walk. I remember thinking, "well, now I've got to go run a stupid marathon". But then I caught myself thinking the wrong kind of thoughts. I said to myself, "what do you mean, a stupid marathon? You are here because you want to be". I spent 19 minutes in the transition area examining my injuries and feeling sorry for myself. After setting some kind of record for the longest transition in history, I finally started to run. As I was leaving the transition area I decided I didn't have any extra energy to waste on being angry so I forgave the poor guy and didn't think about him again. However I was still feeling pretty sorry for myself because of my sore hip and leg. I knew I intended to run the marathon anyway so I had to quit thinking about it. It was after the bike to run transition, when the magic started. That's when the Miracles began to happen. Sometime in the next 26 miles I turned into a long distance triathlete.

But I still walked for the first two miles! Finally after I had worked most of the soreness out of my hip I started to run. At the two-mile aid station, a volunteer offered me some aspirin. I took them. Later at around 5 miles I was offered some more painkillers. I took them also. And then later in the run I was offered some Advil (I took four). My left hand, which had been injured in the fall also, had become terribly swollen to about twice normal size and had begun to throb. It got cold and I put on a long sleeve T- shirt from my special needs bag. But I didn't care anymore. I was doing it! The volunteers at GFT are the best anywhere. They kept me going. I doubt if I will see such cheerful and enthusiastic volunteers so late into the night ever again. The last seven miles were a little lonely, but I wasn't the only person left on the course. I was passing people and that kept my spirits up. I believe I could have run another 10 miles. I never felt tired. At about one mile from the finish, I asked a volunteer if he thought I would make the cut-off time (I was still worried about cut-off times). He assured me that if I walked backwards I would make it. When I crossed the finish line I couldn't believe it was over. My husband had told the announcer that when I finished I would be the first woman in my age group to ever finish this race. People were waiting and cheering for me as I came down the final few yards. There were cameras everywhere. I was confused and didn't know what was going on. I didn't realize that the announcer had told the remaining spectators who I was and what I had done. It's been a year and a half (10 years) since that day and I'm still pumped up. Some kind of magic transformation has taken place. I'm just not the same person I was before. It's crazy and I don't understand it, but I am a happier person now. I have more self-confidence, and more self-esteem. I love training and look forward to all my workouts! Even though I know rest days and easy days are essential to long term success, I never want to stop. I'm just like a little girl again. I want to play all the time. Nothing seems too difficult anymore and the impossible just takes a little longer.

These are pretty powerful words for someone who is 61/now 68 years old. But I can't turn back the clock, so it's just full steam ahead!

I wish all of you, sometime in your running and racing careers could experience the magic I experienced that day. It is an absolutely incredible experience. I will never forget it. But I have new goals now. I'm looking forward to the next one. And next time, folks, I'm going to go faster!

Bobbie Williams lives in Texas with her husband of almost 50 years, Stan. She is also a Life Time Endurance Coach.

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