I've mentioned before that when I began this journey a year and a half ago, I was fairly broken. I look back on that now, and wish I could have let that Lori know how different things were going to be in such a short period of time.
A number of people have asked me why I started this - I was tired of doing things the same way and expecting different results. I needed to fundamentally change the way I looked at things, so I could make better choices in my life, and put myself on a better path. I wanted to break the tape that played in my head, and show my daughter that if you are willing to push yourself harder than you ever have and not give up...anything was possible.
Coming up to race week, I felt myself turn inward. It was a time for me to take stock of my whys, to reflect on how far I have come, and how far I still need to go. Talking with Coach before I left, he told me that if I was expecting this big revelation type moment crossing the finish line, I probably wouldn't get it. That revelation came with every mile I swam, biked or ran before I even got to the starting line. What would happen the day of the race was that I would experience more pain and discomfort than I thought, would wrestle with the idea of giving up, and if I could push past it, have the confirmation that I truly could do whatever I put my mind to. With all that in mind, I was off to Houston. I seriously have the best coach I could ask for.
Things got real fast at the welcome banquet that night. Every athlete was invited, and families and supporters could come as well. It was a close personal dinner of 2600 of my nearest and dearest friends. You could tell who the repeat Ironmen were - they were generally relaxed while the first timers looked more than a little nervous. I spoke with the people at my table, and found their stories pretty interesting. On my left were a young couple. It was his first Ironman, while it was her third. On my right was an older couple. He was racing while she was the support team. She really had no interest in doing them, but for his long rides, she would load up water and nutrition on her scooter and ride alongside of him. All of a sudden, a man approached our table and started talking to us. Then he went to kneel by the empty table next to us. I kept thinking he looked familiar....oh....my....gosh! It was Mike Reilly! The voice of Ironman! The man who got to pronounce us Ironmen as we crossed the finish line. I quickly squat walked over to him and asked to take a picture. Forget the pros, I had just met Mike Reilly!!! It was so superbly cool!
Mike did a great job of hosting the banquet from there. We met the oldest competitor, who, at 80, was a true inspiration. I had seen him compete with his daughter at Kona on TV. There were three 18 year olds who were also brought up as the youngest. He also did an Ironman "Biggest Loser". He started at 20 pounds, and climbed by 10 pound increments. When he got to 80, he brought them up on stage to hear their stories. Most of them were male, and many had the same story. "My wife is a runner/fitness trainer/triathlete, and I needed/wanted to keep up." One poor guy had his wife sign him up the year before as a birthday present, telling him he needed to get in shape, not the present he was expecting I'm sure. Considering how high the entry fee is, and that it's non-refundable, he got to work, losing 80 pounds in the process. The best story was the man who lost 200 pounds. He started at 450 pounds, and would be competing in his first Ironman. Hearing other people's stories are so incredibly inspiring.
Mike went through the stats - 41% of the field were first timers. The largest percent of first timers ever. It helped, I think, to know that most of the field would be going through the same thing I was for the first time.
The next day, we got to have a swim practice on the course. As Chris and I went down there, it was still very surreal to me I would be doing an Ironman the next day. I spent a lot of time getting my bearings, taking my time and getting used to all the people. Right as I was coming out I saw a tethered team in front of me. The man was legally blind and deaf, and he was guided by his friend. I was very humbled by the sight, and thought how brave this man was for doing this. If he could be brave, well then, I had no excuses.
Race morning, I preferred to avoid the crush of the mass start, 2600 people fighting for real estate was just not something I wanted to do. So I chose a spot slightly to one side, and hung onto a kayak with about a dozen other people as the clock ticked closer to seven. As the cannon went off, there was pandemonium. The pictures do not convey the insanity that is a mass start. Bodies, hands, feet, all flying everywhere as swimmers look for anything that resembles a open spot to swim in. There is a rushing sound in those first few moments, and it's the noise of the swimmers' arms all hitting the water. After the first 800m, I started seeing people raise their arms to get pulled out or have help. Just keep going Lori, I told myself...no matter what we are going to finish this.
As we entered the channel, I remembered that I had memorized the buildings that came before the exit. I mentally cheered as I saw them come into view. My shoulders were burning, and I was ready to get on the bike. What I didn't know was that there were three sets of the same buildings. So after I swam past the first set, I looked up - no swim exit...what the heck? Okaaay, go past the second set - no swim exit. Now I was just getting annoyed. Swim the third set - there it was! Get out, grab my bag, run into the tent...and HELLO!! There were a bunch of naked women! Tri-suits people! Just not something I was prepared to be seeing, all I'm saying.
The volunteers were awesome, helping us get ready so we could get out on the bikes quickly. Out I went, breaking down the bike course into manageable sections. My body felt a little heavy, but nothing too terrible. The first few miles I spent loosening up my legs, and eating for the long ride ahead. You make sure to eat every hour on the bike, and drink as much as you can. I made the turns into the main section of the course and discovered that Houston is a lot hillier than led to believe. Head down, keep moving...concentrate on each hill as it comes. Hit the downhills with speed, stretch when you can. A lot of the athletes were commenting on how the course was different than they expected, but most of those used words I'd rather not repeat here.
I spent a lot of time on the bike praying, in gratitude mostly, but also asking for help to finish the day as strong as I could. In my belief, there was no way to get through that day without God. Around mile 100, I thought to myself, "yep, I'm ready to get off this bike now." Suddenly, things started looking more familiar, and soon I was back in transition. As soon as I dropped off my bike, I took my shoes off...ahhhh, that felt good. My right foot had been aching for about 30 miles, and sure as shootin', I was going to lose that toenail...again. The grass felt so soft on my feet, I was happy. As I came into the area that had my run bag, Chris was there to cheer me on. It was really good to see a friendly face. I looked up and there was the man holding my bag up for me to see it. I kept telling my legs to go, to run for it, but they had stopped listening to me. I felt so bad for the guy I told him I just couldn't go any faster.
Getting into the run tent (no naked women this time, thank you!) a volunteer handed me a glass of water, asked me to sit down, took everything out of my bag and asked me how she could help. Those volunteers really deserve medals of their own. I got changed as fast as I could, and went off running.
The first few miles were good, pace was good, aid stations were good, cheering crowds were good, it was all gooooood. I had this pesky pain in my side that had been nagging me since fairly early on in the bike but I set it aside. Around mile 12-14 (can't really remember) I hit the medical station to ask about my side since I was having some trouble breathing. Told the medic to give me the Cliff notes version, since I was in a rush. Have to give him credit, didn't even phase him. He pushed and prodded on my side, to the point where I was getting ready to deck him - it hurt! Finally he said I had pulled or strained a muscle, and would probably be walking soon. Off I went, wanting to get as much running in me that was left.
I saw a sight for sore eyes as I finished my second loop - there was Chris and Farrah! I took a couple of moments to hug them both and talk to them, and then off I went. Finally, I was walking. I knew I had enough time to finish, but I still wanted to go as fast as I could, so I power walked with what I had left. I thanked God for allowing me to do this, to finish, thanked Him for all the people who had supported me during my training and throughout the day (big thanks to Chris and Jason for giving out all the updates!). As I headed into the last stretch, I walked with a man who was hobbled over to the side with back pain. I tried to encourage him, to tell him we were almost there, but he smiled at me and said, "Are you sure? I've been lied to a lot today - they said the bike course was flat, then for the last five miles of the bike they said it was only one more mile, and now you are telling me I'm almost done." I laughed and told him I wanted to be done too, so I wasn't lying. Sure enough, we entered the final chute. I told him to go ahead of me, that I would walk a bit more so he could cross the finish line alone. Also meant that I could cross the finish line alone...but hey.
The chute is magnetic. The cheering is incredible. The people don't care if they know you, they want to be part of your journey. I slapped hands with as many people as I could, including a little girl and her baby brother who looked at me like I was this amazing person because I was about to be an Ironman. You run, because your legs forget that they couldn't a moment ago. You almost float on this sea of well being projected towards you, and then you hear the magic words:
Lori Lyn Orsulak...you ARE an IRONMAN!
My first thought as I crossed? I cannot WAIT to do that again! My second thought? I want to lay down!
Chris, Farrah, the Ericas...awesome people who were there to share this moment with me. It meant so much to have them there. Pictures were taken and then I needed food...I hadn't been able to hold down anything for the last ten miles, but by jove I was going to EAT. It then dawned on me that by ending later than hoped, most of the restaurants would be closed, and I was in no condition to sit in a restaurant anyway (how everyone took pictures without a sneer over how I smelled...like I said, these are awesome people).
We picked up some food and kept the windows down going back to the hotel. I went to shower, and noticed something at my feet. Two baby fish had been caught in my suit....poor baby fish! I must have swam through a school during the swim and took them with me. They were dead (obviously) but I still dubbed them IronFish. They had, after all, done the distance with me. Then they were given the proper toilet burial all fish hope to have.
I expected to be somewhat sore the next day, and was surprised to be only a little stiff. What really threw me for a loop was that my brain was oatmeal, I guess 15 hours of concentration was my limit for putting coherent thoughts together. I had a hard time remembering what I had just said, and everything was foggy.
Still, as I drove home, I thought about what being an Ironman meant to me. I knew without a doubt that I had the tenacity to get through anything, especially when I allowed my faith to give me strength. I realized that while still bruised in some areas, I was no longer broken. That meant that I was ready to let go of the people who didn't want to be part of my life, or would be detrimental to it. That was a hard one, because there are some truly awesome people who I would have loved to have as lifelong friends who chose to go a different way. But we all have our own journey, and cannot force anyone to follow our path instead of their own. If people want to go, let them, and it will make room for those who want to stay. And some pretty incredible people have chosen to stay.
I truly appreciated what everyone's contributions to me finishing meant to me. Every "like", every comment, everyone who came out to ride with me, every time I was pushed (thanks Pain Lab Doctors), my coach who was encouraging when he could be and getting after me when I tried to slack off. It all came together to strengthen my resolve to finish that race, no matter what circumstances came along. So in one year and five months, my metamorphosis took place. Into what? Not sure...but it will be a heck of a ride discovering what it could be.
If I could give anyone advice, it would be this (for what it's worth to you), dream big, and just know that if you set your mind on that dream, you can get there. Sure, you might have to take detours along the way, and it may not turn out as you planned. That's okay, because as you stumble, you learn to stand stronger. And as all the layers of garbage that held you back are pulled away, you find out that who you really are was there all along.
Florida is 22 weeks away, and I've learned a few things to change in my training and race day plan. This may have been the ending of the first chapter, but it's hardly the end of the book. There are many more races to race, people to help, and workouts to be done. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, someone will get inspired to chase their dream, whatever that may be. So meet you at the starting line, and thank you for being part of this first leg of my journey!
As a post note: To finish this chapter, I sent pictures of the finish to the person who told me I wasn't "odd" enough to do this. I got no response, and to be honest, I didn't need one. Mike Reilly already told me I was odd enough, everyone who supports me knows I am, finally, I believe I am...so that's more than good enough for me.
Project Unbreakable: To all the people who gave me their names, you came with me, we crossed the finish line together. Your voice was heard, and you are far braver than you know. Thank you for entrusting me with your stories.
I spent a lot of time on the bike praying, in gratitude mostly, but also asking for help to finish the day as strong as I could. In my belief, there was no way to get through that day without God. Around mile 100, I thought to myself, "yep, I'm ready to get off this bike now." Suddenly, things started looking more familiar, and soon I was back in transition. As soon as I dropped off my bike, I took my shoes off...ahhhh, that felt good. My right foot had been aching for about 30 miles, and sure as shootin', I was going to lose that toenail...again. The grass felt so soft on my feet, I was happy. As I came into the area that had my run bag, Chris was there to cheer me on. It was really good to see a friendly face. I looked up and there was the man holding my bag up for me to see it. I kept telling my legs to go, to run for it, but they had stopped listening to me. I felt so bad for the guy I told him I just couldn't go any faster.
Getting into the run tent (no naked women this time, thank you!) a volunteer handed me a glass of water, asked me to sit down, took everything out of my bag and asked me how she could help. Those volunteers really deserve medals of their own. I got changed as fast as I could, and went off running.
The first few miles were good, pace was good, aid stations were good, cheering crowds were good, it was all gooooood. I had this pesky pain in my side that had been nagging me since fairly early on in the bike but I set it aside. Around mile 12-14 (can't really remember) I hit the medical station to ask about my side since I was having some trouble breathing. Told the medic to give me the Cliff notes version, since I was in a rush. Have to give him credit, didn't even phase him. He pushed and prodded on my side, to the point where I was getting ready to deck him - it hurt! Finally he said I had pulled or strained a muscle, and would probably be walking soon. Off I went, wanting to get as much running in me that was left.
I saw a sight for sore eyes as I finished my second loop - there was Chris and Farrah! I took a couple of moments to hug them both and talk to them, and then off I went. Finally, I was walking. I knew I had enough time to finish, but I still wanted to go as fast as I could, so I power walked with what I had left. I thanked God for allowing me to do this, to finish, thanked Him for all the people who had supported me during my training and throughout the day (big thanks to Chris and Jason for giving out all the updates!). As I headed into the last stretch, I walked with a man who was hobbled over to the side with back pain. I tried to encourage him, to tell him we were almost there, but he smiled at me and said, "Are you sure? I've been lied to a lot today - they said the bike course was flat, then for the last five miles of the bike they said it was only one more mile, and now you are telling me I'm almost done." I laughed and told him I wanted to be done too, so I wasn't lying. Sure enough, we entered the final chute. I told him to go ahead of me, that I would walk a bit more so he could cross the finish line alone. Also meant that I could cross the finish line alone...but hey.
The chute is magnetic. The cheering is incredible. The people don't care if they know you, they want to be part of your journey. I slapped hands with as many people as I could, including a little girl and her baby brother who looked at me like I was this amazing person because I was about to be an Ironman. You run, because your legs forget that they couldn't a moment ago. You almost float on this sea of well being projected towards you, and then you hear the magic words:
Lori Lyn Orsulak...you ARE an IRONMAN!
My first thought as I crossed? I cannot WAIT to do that again! My second thought? I want to lay down!
Chris, Farrah, the Ericas...awesome people who were there to share this moment with me. It meant so much to have them there. Pictures were taken and then I needed food...I hadn't been able to hold down anything for the last ten miles, but by jove I was going to EAT. It then dawned on me that by ending later than hoped, most of the restaurants would be closed, and I was in no condition to sit in a restaurant anyway (how everyone took pictures without a sneer over how I smelled...like I said, these are awesome people).
We picked up some food and kept the windows down going back to the hotel. I went to shower, and noticed something at my feet. Two baby fish had been caught in my suit....poor baby fish! I must have swam through a school during the swim and took them with me. They were dead (obviously) but I still dubbed them IronFish. They had, after all, done the distance with me. Then they were given the proper toilet burial all fish hope to have.
I expected to be somewhat sore the next day, and was surprised to be only a little stiff. What really threw me for a loop was that my brain was oatmeal, I guess 15 hours of concentration was my limit for putting coherent thoughts together. I had a hard time remembering what I had just said, and everything was foggy.
Still, as I drove home, I thought about what being an Ironman meant to me. I knew without a doubt that I had the tenacity to get through anything, especially when I allowed my faith to give me strength. I realized that while still bruised in some areas, I was no longer broken. That meant that I was ready to let go of the people who didn't want to be part of my life, or would be detrimental to it. That was a hard one, because there are some truly awesome people who I would have loved to have as lifelong friends who chose to go a different way. But we all have our own journey, and cannot force anyone to follow our path instead of their own. If people want to go, let them, and it will make room for those who want to stay. And some pretty incredible people have chosen to stay.
I truly appreciated what everyone's contributions to me finishing meant to me. Every "like", every comment, everyone who came out to ride with me, every time I was pushed (thanks Pain Lab Doctors), my coach who was encouraging when he could be and getting after me when I tried to slack off. It all came together to strengthen my resolve to finish that race, no matter what circumstances came along. So in one year and five months, my metamorphosis took place. Into what? Not sure...but it will be a heck of a ride discovering what it could be.
If I could give anyone advice, it would be this (for what it's worth to you), dream big, and just know that if you set your mind on that dream, you can get there. Sure, you might have to take detours along the way, and it may not turn out as you planned. That's okay, because as you stumble, you learn to stand stronger. And as all the layers of garbage that held you back are pulled away, you find out that who you really are was there all along.
Florida is 22 weeks away, and I've learned a few things to change in my training and race day plan. This may have been the ending of the first chapter, but it's hardly the end of the book. There are many more races to race, people to help, and workouts to be done. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, someone will get inspired to chase their dream, whatever that may be. So meet you at the starting line, and thank you for being part of this first leg of my journey!
As a post note: To finish this chapter, I sent pictures of the finish to the person who told me I wasn't "odd" enough to do this. I got no response, and to be honest, I didn't need one. Mike Reilly already told me I was odd enough, everyone who supports me knows I am, finally, I believe I am...so that's more than good enough for me.
Project Unbreakable: To all the people who gave me their names, you came with me, we crossed the finish line together. Your voice was heard, and you are far braver than you know. Thank you for entrusting me with your stories.
