Ironman as seen by an Ironwoman
"My dear, Ironman is not a race but a long journey".
That was the first sentence I was told when I signed up for my first Ironman in 2019. A truth you don't believe until you find yourself doing this long journey.
An Ironman race, no matter how many people are around you, is a journey with yourself, your mind and your body. Everything outside doesn't matter. It starts with a long wait before the start of the swim, probably for me the most magical moment of the whole race. You are surrounded by people, there are those who hug their loved ones, those who lean on a teammate, a stranger who at that moment seems to be in total panic, those who sit on the floor and stand with their eyes closed, those who stretch, those who cry (I am among the latter, because before the start, I always get teary-eyed with emotion) and there are also those who dance.
There is a lot of noise, loud music, people shouting loudly, but at the same time you are inside your bubble. I will always remember the departure from Barcelona in 2021 when they played at maximum volume the song "Hall of fame" by The Script, with the stormy sea in front of me (the biggest of my fears), I sang it at the top of my lungs giving me a crazy charge! I still get chills at the mere thought of that moment, a mix of adrenaline and fear that is rarely so powerful.
The last 10" before the start you hear the sound of the heartbeat, the heart explodes in your chest and the only thought is "There's no turning back, I'm here, so get ready, get set, get set, get set, get set...". Let's go!"
The swim for many triathletes is the most traumatic part, many don't like open water, and the 3.8km swim seems endless. But once out of the water there is an explosion of cheers that makes it impossible not to recover. The urge to get on the bike is great, on the other hand, it's the dominant part of the race and it's even the one where you spend the most training hours. Even if you prepare for it, it is not a trivial part to be taken lightly. The road is long and there can always be unforeseen (in this case also technical) events.
Personally I pace the 180 km by eating and drinking every few minutes or km depending on the route, trying to keep my mind as clear as possible and enter the second stage with the right energy to be able to face the marathon.
The best thing about getting to the zone of change? Seeing the people I care about calling my name. Only those who have faced such long races know what it means.
You feel calm, even though your body is making a superhuman effort, you are calm, because everyone is there so everything is fine.
And this is where the hardest part of all begins: the MARATHON.
Mixed feelings start to creep into your mind. The first km the legs are fine but then the real tiredness starts to set in, especially the mental tiredness and the desire to slow down is always strong. "What an exhaustion" or "Who made me do it" are the thoughts that rumble the loudest, but at that moment, the very desire to step on that red carpet at the finish is huge. It becomes a race from stop to stop at the real fixed points.
Then there are the people along the way, you recognise them, you have them in your mind and (even if you don't know them) you look for them when you return to that same spot on the next laps trying to recharge your energy to move forward.
Here, in the marathon, is the moment when you finally start to share your race with other participants. You take one as a reference and try not to let him get away, you encourage another who seems to be in trouble, you give a high-five to a friend or throw a sponge to the one sitting on the ground alone away from the rest area.
You do it because at that moment everyone is connected by one thing: tiredness.
However, even though you can't do it anymore, the last 195 metres, on that red carpet dotted with white M's, amidst the noise of people calling your name, whoever you are, you SMILE because you know that soon someone will tell you "YOU ARE AN IRONMAN".
And yes, you really are!