The Cullmination

The end of a long planned, long looked forward to event is oftentimes bittersweet. As we lay in bed Sunday night we kept saying that we couldn't believe it was over, done. It began over a year ago when Wade received a phone call from Denten saying he was seriously considering signing up for Ironman Arizona: a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run, a race only for the strong in mind and body to take place November22nd, 2009. When I got wind of the exchanged phone call I knew it was only a matter of time, and a short matter of time as the race was filling quickly that we were about to make a major commitment. An Ironman had been on Wade's radar for years and a wish to accomplish it before age 30 for about 5. I gave my "agree to support you if you bust your balls" speech and we were in. The commitment that lay ahead would be huge. It would be an enormous time commitment, financial commitment, couple commitment, wash water bottles 1000 times commitment. It was to be a long year for one very long day.

There were some ups and downs, but we followed through. Wade busted his balls. He trained and trained. He sought advice and counsel. He tested nutrition products, researched equipment, and developed a plan. He put in early mornings, late nights and long weekends. I washed loads of water bottles, I parented on my own many nights and Saturdays, I closed my eyes and my mouth as we practically opened up a tab at Revo cycle, I supported.

As it turns out the commitment would result in an experience far beyond our expectations. The meticulously orchestrated event, the energy and enthusiasm of the other athletes and spectators, the smiles and silent thoughts of "This is it, you're/I'm doing it" that passed between Wade and I, the texts messages, well wishes and family and friends that were tracking Wade elsewhere left us feeling like it was a gift to be a part of this. Wade swam, biked and ran his heart out. He swam his personal best in what can only be described as chaos. How else do you define 2800 people in the water at one time?! He cycled smart, riding consistently and saving some for the run. He ran fast, faster than anyone should run after hopping off a bike for 112 miles and then ran through stomach cramps those last 10 miles that had him doubling over. He smiled and stopped to kiss me when he saw me. I cheered and yelled and said under my breath all day, "Come on Buster, you got this, you can do this." I teared up about 80 times and ran around like a crazy person so I could snap a bad photo. You can't snap and cheer at the same time, you just can't. When he was rounding the corner in the last half mile, I clammored up to the bleachers to take one last bad shot and to see my Ironman cross the line. He came through the shoot smiling, fist pumping and victorious. I fist pumped too. And cried. It was a great day. A great, great, amazing day.

I have often said the wonderful thing about a marathon is it provides an opportunity for ordinary people to do something extraordinary. An Ironman provides an equal opportunity for those brave enough to participate, however, it seems it differs in that somewhere in between all the planning and preparing and training, in the racing, in the pushing and pushing beyond any conceivable limits, that the participants have no longer have just completed an extraordinary feat, they have become extraordinary themselves.

Buster, well done. You are extraordinary and YOU are an Ironman. Boo-yah.