Ironman Journey #2 — Wisconsin 2006
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It is only fitting that I start my Ironman journey from where I left off last year. Most of you are aware that I was involved in a bike accident just prior to IM in 2005. After completing Ironman, I proceeded to Hawaii in Dec. with a dear friend, Kristin to run the Honolulu Marathon. In hindsight, I am now willing to admit that I was in no condition to participate in Ironman last year – but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. In January I found myself laid up with a herniated disk. My doctor concurred that after the bike accident my body just couldn’t keep up with the stress I was putting it through; hence my L5 vertebra said enough. I was still able to bike and swim over the winter, but advised not to run for 4-6 weeks. My doctor and therapist reassured me that completing another Ironman in September ‘06 was a reasonable quest. Because the Ironman was the race of my season, I was willing to concede running for a ‘little while’.

Any runner will tell you that taking a couple of weeks off from running is like a death sentence! Considering how cold it was outside, I was OK with taking January off from running, even February was OK. March I started to get antsy and aggravated. April I was beside myself. My body needed 15 weeks to recover without the impact of running. I felt I was on an emotional roller coaster – each week was a new hill or valley. Finally, in late April I was granted the gift to run outside for a whole 20 minutes.

Slowly and gradually I added more volume into my runs. There were a few scares throughout the course of summer when I questioned my body’s ability to take on the amount of training needed. Unlike last season, I was willing to abort Ironman if it was going to impact my long-term ability to run pain-free. At the end of July, and with the help of one of the city’s best physical therapist, (Maureen George–Lincoln Park Accelerated Rehab), I felt confident I was going to make it to Ironman! And I was going to lay it all on the line!

The week prior to the race, my support team—aptly named Team Cassandra was in full force preparing T-shirts, banners, signs, and a race day spectator schedule. Being a spectator is hard work, especially for a race that is so long, not to mention the weather conditions that may prevail on race day. The forecast called for a 30% chance of showers later in the day, low of 52 – high of 63 degrees. It sounded ideal…cool, dry weather for the bike, perhaps a shower on the run. Perfect!

Ironman is a mass start of all athletes at 7am. Athletes need to swim 2.4 miles, ride 112 miles, and run 26.2 miles to the finish. Everyone has 17 hours to complete the race otherwise they will be disqualified. IMWI ‘06 had the largest registration in IM history. They allowed 2,600 entrants to register (usually the field closes out at 2400 or some events at 2000). 2,439 athletes showed up to start the race on Sunday morning, only 2,172 actually crossed the finish line.

RACE MORNING 4:00am: I wake with the thought of putting more fuel in my body. I feel good, excited, and well rested from the sleep I accumulated all week, (because I certainly didn’t sleep the night before the race). After loading up on carbs, Rob, mom and myself headed down to the transition area to prepare for race day. It was chilly outside – 52 degrees, winds coming out of the east, but no rain. This was a huge extreme from last year’s temperature of 75 degrees at 5am.

6:30am: Team Cassandra was in place. I was feeling more confident with the swim this year. Last year I was tossed around like a rag doll in the water, as a virgin Ironman I was naïve to think my fellow competitors would “play nice” in the water. I learned my lesson. I was there to do the pulling, pushing and shoving if required. With all the excitement of race morning and Team Cassandra, time quickly escaped me. I hustled my way down to the swim start. There was a huge line of athletes waiting to get into the water. Everyone’s timing chip starts at 7am no matter if you are in the water or not. With one minute to spare, I was able to position myself in the warm, 70-degree water feeling good, calm and ready to do battle…I mean swim! ;-)

7:00am: The cannon goes off and I wait a few seconds to go horizontal. The swim course is a giant rectangle. Each athlete must swim 2 laps around the course to complete the 2.4 miles. The first lap of the swim is a bit dicey. I confidently negotiate my way through the first 1000 meters, careful to protect my head, deflect random hands and feet that are fluttering by my side. When I felt someone on my feet, I kicked even harder to create my own space. Unfortunately I made the mistake of taking the first turn too close to the buoy and find myself in a swimmer pile-up. Everyone is vertical trying to do a breaststroke to get around the turn. Lesson learned…stay wider for the other turns. I make the 2nd turn and the current is NOT to our advantage. The water is very choppy with the ENE winds, and it is hindering my ability to swim smoothly. I swallow many mouthfuls of Lake Menona as I try to find some sort of rhythm, and the jostling from the rough current creates a very unpleasant feeling.

I had a swim strategy this year–find someone who is holding a similar pace and draft! I found her; she had blue goggles and a blue cap. We swam stroke for stroke most of the last loop. It was perfect! My swim was more aggressive on the second loop, I did not hesitate to push people out of my way to hold her pace. I wasn’t sure of my time, but felt confident I was giving it the best that I had. Finally I made the last turn to head into the finish. I run out of the water and cross the mat. The clock above me read 1:18:50. I completed the swim almost 3 minutes faster than last year, in far worse conditions, but more importantly with NO bodily damage!

I run out of the water and look for the cutest, hunkiest volunteer (fittingly named a wetsuit ‘stripper’) to pull off my suit [sorry Rob ; )]! In the process, I cut off another fellow swimmer to have my stripper of choice. Yes, I am having FUN! Let the day begin! I run up the helix and locate Team Cassandra yelling and screaming my name! That’s my team!

8:30am: As I run through the transition area to retrieve my bike, the announcer is on the PA warning us that some of the roads are wet and slick due to localized rain, “ride with caution” is what he said. I’m thinking, “no big deal, just a passing shower”. I hop on my bike and head off for my 112-mile journey. A day or two leading up to the race, I was having wardrobe dilemmas. Will it be cold, cool, wet, warm – what the heck should I pack in my transition bags to wear? As a couple of last minute details, I bought a pair of $1.99 nylon trouser socks. I cut off the toe and made a thumbhole so I could wear as disposable arm warmers; a great solution without having to wear long sleeves. And on race morning I borrowed a hanky from Rob, in lieu of the tissues I always have tucked under the leg of my riding shorts. As everyone knows who rides with me, I have an issue with the “farmer’s blow”. It just doesn’t land where it should! Hence, I thought if it were going to rain, my tissues would be a pile of mush and it would be nice to wipe my nose on something substantial.

8:45am: Not more than a couple of miles out on the bike course, there is a light sprinkle. “No worries, it’s just a passing shower”, that is what I told myself for the first hour on the bike. “It’s just a passing shower”. I’m feeling really good on my bike. I was quite pleased when I checked my odometer. I cruised through the first 16 miles at an 18.4 mph pace. My legs felt fresh, the rain was somewhat refreshing, but I started to have thoughts of the two 40-mile loops to come. The loops are technical; a lot of hills, a lot of sharp turns, and there was a lot of water on the roads. I kept telling myself, “just take it one mile at a time, feather your brakes, you have ridden in rain before, no worries.”

I had mastered my nutrition plan throughout the training season, I had my watch set up to beep every 20 minutes to keep me on an eating schedule. Thank goodness I had a liquid diet this year because 2 hours into the ride my fingers were numb. The rain, wind and 55 degree temperatures were making it a challenge to wiggle my fingers, grabbing a water bottle from my gage was just about the only thing I could do without fumbling.

Mile 40: I feel like I am having a great ride; negotiating the hills and descents with caution, feeling confident of my riding skills. However, at this point I have no idea of my pace. My computer is water logged and giving me incorrect information. I am getting very excited to see Team Cassandra positioned out on Old Sauk Pass. Rob has calculated my time predictions and mileage so that Team Cassandra could maneuver the course like a well-oiled machine. As I approached Old Sauk I was a little disappointed to see the first hill empty of spectators. The rain had kept some fans away. As I climbed slowly and steady, I locate my Team. Sherri and Rob were making their way down the second hill. I feel like I caught them off guard but they were screaming and yelling as I passed by. “Ahhh”, just the little lift I needed to keep it going. Now I’m curious to know how fast or slow I am riding, was I ahead of schedule or behind? At mile 56 I complete the first loop. I’m half way through the ride and my split is 3:06:00. I was very excited and on target for my predicted pace, and riding better than expected in the conditions!

Mile 80: Still raining, sometimes it’s coming down hard, other times it’s a sprinkle. If the rain stopped it was only temporary. The roads were soaked and the spray from everyone’s back tire is dangerous and becoming a huge menace. The handkerchief stuffed in the leg of my shorts has become my little piece of heaven. I pull it out to wipe the water and mud off of my face, it’s warm from the heat of my body, and it has the scent of Rob. Heaven. I am now convinced that the showers are not ‘passing’ and I am cursing the weatherman…“30% chance of showers my arse, It’s been raining for 4+ hours”! I’m starting to lose my steam. I am soaked to the bone and uncomfortable. My fingertips are cold, and I’m having a hard time shifting my gears with my left hand. I actually had to use my right hand to shift my left gears. Not good! I see the aftermath of two different riders after they have wiped out descending a hill. They are not in good shape. Aside from their road rash, they are noticeably disoriented and shivering – probably hypothermic. After observing both riders, I kept telling myself, “stay focused, concentrate on what you are doing, be safe on the hills”!

I am trying my hardest to find a psychological boost. It seemed that every straight we hit, inevitable there was a dreaded head wind and driving rain. We are not catching a break out here! I come around to Old Sauk Pass again. As I turn the corner I see some members of my team. Kristin and Drew are on the corner waiting for my arrival… screaming and yelling, routing me on. I am SO EXCITED to see them – another piece of heaven!!! That was exactly the boost I needed! I thought for sure I’d be out there by myself for the final 30 miles. As I start climbing the hills, there’s Rob! He’s sprinting up the hill with me. I’m happy to report to him that I feel good. A little further up the hill my Mom, Sherri and Dave! “Holy Cow, this is great”! I had no idea they would be there for the second pass. I now have the motivation to get back into Madison, the sooner the better!

Mile 96: Visions of baby powder and warm DRY socks are floating in my head. I can’t wait to put on dry clothes! I finish the second loop, and am doing my best to push through the remaining 16 miles, and push is exactly what I had to do! Last year the ride back into Madison felt like a piece of cake, not so much this year. The wind was in our face, the rain was still falling and the little rollers on Whalen Road felt like mountains. Ugh. I thought how excited I would be to get off my bike and on my feet. “Warm dry socks, warm dry shorts” that was all I could focus on. I finally had the skyline of Madison in my sites. I ride up the helix and happily release my bike into the hands of a volunteer. “You can have it”, were my exact words to him. I check my time as I cross the mat. The second half of my bike ride was 19 minutes slower than the first half, but VERY pleased to finish the bike in 6:24:00, still 7 minutes faster than last year!

2:54pm: I am hustling my way through the transition. I needed to stay focused, last year my transition times were long. I think I had a tea party in T2. I grabbed my bag and run to the changing room. A woman named Rebecca volunteered to assist in the soggy process of changing my clothes. G-d bless this woman. Donned with rubber gloves, Rebecca took off my cleats and socks. I’m shouting out for a little help from other athletes, “does anyone have baby powder… will pay, baby powder… anyone”?!?!? No luck, so sad – my feet were not going to feel the silky softness of baby powder. However, they were now dry! I am struggling to get my riding gloves off, the $1.99 trouser socks/arm warmers that I thought would be tossed after the first hour turned out to be the BEST $2 I have ever spent! I make a complete wardrobe change and into dry clothes. Heaven!

I make it out of transition in 6 minutes, almost half the time it took me last year. I am very pleased, and pleased that my legs feel good! HOORAY! The rain has slowed down to a mere sprinkle. I turn the very first corner out of transition and my team is in place. Kristin and Drew greet me. Their energy and stamina was amazing and thoroughly addicting! I absorbed every ounce I could. They tell me the rest of the crew was further up the road. HOORAY, hooray. I’m running, I’m dry, I feel good! I see Rob’s red hat sticking out of the crowd. I see Sherri and Dave and Mom. I high-five Mom as I run by, everyone is electric. I love it! I’m having FUN again! I pass the first mile marker and clock my split – 7:58 mile! “Holy cow, I need to slow down”. I’m not sure if I said that out loud, or to myself because at this point I’ve been moving for 8 hours and feeling slightly disoriented.

Mile 3: The vibe of downtown and the spectators is behind me. I’m making my way through the semi-baron streets of Madison. The rain has kept most spectators close to the capital, but who could honestly blame them. Somewhere around mile 3 I have a reality check, “I have 23+ miles to run. WOW, the race is just beginning”. The reality of running a marathon has now sunken in. I find a guy who is running my pace. We settle into a conversation and hang for the next 10 miles.

Mile 13: I am still feeling relatively well. I have finished the first loop and have a psychological boost that there is a mere 13.2 miles to go! “One more lap around this course and I am DONE”! I see Team Cassandra scattered in various spots along the run course – screaming and cheering. Love it. They are absolute troopers to be out the entire day in this weather! I am thoroughly soaked from top to bottom. My toes are sloshing around in my sneakers. I worry that by the end of the race my feet will be covered in blisters! My run strategy was to keep a steady pace under a 10:00 minute mile, which included a brief walk to get through the aid stations for nutrition. So far the strategy was working, and happy to see my split for the run was 2:06:00 – (9:37 pace)

6:00pm: Three hours into the run I start to feel a little nauseous. I couldn’t swallow another mouthful of GU to save my life and decide to switch to Coke at the next aid station to settle my stomach. It was delicious! For the remaining stations I alternate between banana and Coke. My stomach and mouth happily embraced a new taste and texture. Slowly I am loosing my zip. By mile 18 fatigue is setting in, and the rain is coming down harder. The wind is blowing off the lake, and the temperature has dropped a few degrees. I’m watching other runners struggle to stay warm. The volunteers were handing out large plastic garbage bags and many athletes were fully donned in plastic or foil to keep warm and dry. Fortunately I have yet to feel really cold, of course it’s chilly with the rain and wind, but I was still relatively comfortable. Key word – RELATIVELY!

Mile 20: I am fatigued, annoyed with the rain. I keep telling myself “move your ass Cassandra, move your ass…”. At that moment it dawned on me that unlike last year, nothing out of the ordinary was hurting my body. I have no knee pain, no back pain, no physical ailment to hinder my mental stamina to run faster. “Mind over matter, mind over matter” I kept chanting those words to myself.

Mile 23: I walk through the aid station, sip my Coke and see a friend in the race run by me. That was all I needed. “Holy shit, that’s Dana…she just cruised by me! I passed her on the bike a long time ago”! I now had a mission. My competitive side kicked in, and away I went! “Keep that pink jersey in your view, you are not stopping until you cross the finish line”. I look at my watch and start negotiating the numbers, “if I run my 10 minute pace, I can cross the finish line under 12:20:00. WOW, that would exceed my 12:30:00 goal”! The last 3.2 miles were a blur literally and physically; my contact lenses were so uncomfortable I could not see clearly, and I was a bit disoriented from the long day.

Mile 26: I have the Capital in view…along with the pink jersey. I am SO close to the finish! I turn on to the main street, work my way up the small incline that at this point feels like a giant hill. I see Kristin and Drew amongst the thick crowd, jumping up and down. Kristin hops in and runs a few steps with me. My last push. I am so EXCITED! I am so close. I hear the music and the excitement of the finish line. Next, I spot Rob through the crowd, cheering just as enthusiastically. “Wow, so close”! The final turn, I am on the red carpet! I high-five a few spectators as I make my way down the last 200 yards. I pass Sherri and Dave as they scream my name. I raise my arms in the air with the complete joy of finishing. I am so overwhelmed I don’t even here my name announced. I take the final steps and look up at the clock as I cross the finish line “HOLY COW”– 12:15:20. I DID IT!!!!!!!! I finished and exceeded my goal by 15 minutes!!! I crushed last year’s time by almost an hour! WaWhoooo!

Another spectacular volunteer (appropriately named a ‘catcher’) is by my side–literally holding me up. He ‘caught’ me in his arms, and wrapped me in a foil blanket to keep me warm and placed the finisher medal over my head. Team Cassandra was positioned at the end of the gate cheering like rockstars, completely ecstatic for my finish. My volunteer looks at me, “do they belong to you”. With a big smile on my face, I said “why, yes they do”. He walked me over and released me into the hands of my Team. What a crew. What a day. What a race!!!

The official times were posted the next morning.
I placed #608 out of 2,439; #14 out of 120 in my age group!!!
WOW! I could not have done it without my Team. Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who supported me from near and far.

I did not sign up for next year’s Ironman. However, I don’t think this was the last one either! : )

“There is no substitute for a race to bring out the true demons of self-doubt and the angels of motivation that will get you to the finish line.”
–Anonymous

The Inaugural Ironman Journey — Wisconsin 2005
Download the Recap PDF

What an adventure, what a journey, what a mind-blowing experience!
Ironman Wisconsin was by far the most challenging, fun, ridiculously crazy, rewarding race I have ever participated in. For those of you who are not familiar or have forgotten, an Ironman is the longest distance triathlon consisting of a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike and a 26.2-mile run (in that order, all to be completed within 17 hours).

The week leading up to the event was probably more challenging for me than the actual race. I was desperately trying to recover from a small bike accident that occurred just 9 days before the race. The accident landed me in the emergency room with a severely bruised tailbone and a slight scare of a mild concussion. Fortunately the head trauma was just temporary but the bruised tail was certainly hindering my ability to be mobile, challenging my ability to walk, let alone run. I was in recovery/damage-control mode all week. Four days before the race I was feeling hopeless, running just 100 yards was terribly painful. After two acupuncture sessions, physical therapy, Epsom salt baths, electric stim, ice, stretching and resting I was feeling a little more encouraged. The race…less than 48-hours!

Anyone that has completed this distance race will tell you, you can’t put a time goal on your first IM – “go out there and enjoy the day, have fun” is what they say. For those of you that know me well…I secretly had a time goal. Those goals and expectations were quickly and sadly amended to accommodate the reality of my physical well-being. Just getting across the finish line was going to be a challenge. Will I be walking, running, hobbling, limping? Crawling was actually listed in the rules and regulations as an acceptable form of forward motion!

As race day approached I was getting excited again. My mind set – “it is what it is”. Readjusting my attitude let me enjoy the weekend. I was there to have fun. I was going to take the day as it came to me. And boy did it come quickly!

RACE DAY 3:30am: WIDE AWAKE, only after falling asleep at 1:30am… the day’s events were running through my head and at that moment I realized I needed to shave my legs. Can’t have stubble for race day… need to get up to take a shower.

5:00am: Walk down to the transition area to do a final check of all the gear. It was already 75 degrees and the sun’s appearance was still 2 hours away.

6:30am: I really started to get excited AND nervous, the wetsuit was on! I had no idea of what to expect for the day. At the same time I was getting anxious to get in the water.

7:00am: The cannon went off. The race has begun. The water was warm (74 degrees) and I was getting clobbered by dozens of hands, arms and feet! The Ironman is a mass start of all competitors. This race started with 2,400 athletes and 75% were men, so I expected to be jarred around on the swim. I have heard stories of Ironman swim starts but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to endure for the next hour. Within the first 500 yards I was kicked and pulled, tossed around like a rag doll. And then I got it… a direct hit I could not deflect; I was clocked square in the jaw by a foot. I didn’t realize for another 10 minutes when I tried to pop my ear that I couldn’t open my mouth more than an inch. My jaw was knocked out of alignment! My next thought… “great, how the heck am I’m going to eat my peanut butter and jelly bagels on the bike ride? Am I going to be on a liquid diet today? This is not cool”! Throughout the swim I continued to do a mouth check, each time I was able to open my jaw a little more. The good news was that my tailbone pain was very manageable and the rotator cuff tendonitis that was my initial ailment never presented an issue on the swim.

8:21am: finally out of the water, pleasantly surprised at my time and pain management. I was anticipating the 2.4 miles to take between 75 – 90 minutes. I happily embraced 82 minutes! The wetsuit came off very gingerly as the wetsuit “strippers” were careful after being forewarned about my bruised tail. The transition to the bike was an awkward, mildly uncomfortable shuffle up the parking garage helix into the transition room. This made me worry about what was to come in the marathon.

8:33am: I’m on the bike. This is where I am most comfortable, now the race can begin. The day was expected to be a hot one, 90+ degrees with 15-20mph winds, conditions that rival the Kona, Hawaii IM. My thought – “bring it on, my body can manage the heat, just give me the legs to run a marathon at the end of the day”. Not more than 100 meters out on the bike course, I hit a bump and launch one of three water bottles off of my bike. My thought now – “great, 90 degrees and I’m already down one bottle”.

Mile 10 on the bike: Riding down Whalen Road trying to find a rhythm and settle into this journey… down shift as a cruise up a small rolling hill… pop the chain. At this point I had to do a mental check. My thought – “Get your act together Cassandra, this is going to be a long day, start focusing on what you are doing”.

Mile 30 on the bike: Feeling pretty good, at this point tail pain is negligible. The swim warmed up the muscles. Riding in the aero position is not an issue, even when climbing the hills. This makes me happy and gives me some confidence that I might be able to pull off the run.

Mile 40 on the bike: My act was completely together, heading into Old Sauk Road – a succession of three rolling hills that presents a small (okay, big) challenge for riders. It was one of the most AMAZING experiences of the entire day! This is when my mojo kicked into high gear! It felt like the Tour de France!

I was hauling ass for the remaining 82 miles; I don’t remember the second loop of the bike course or having had any issues with the heat! What I do remember was the last 14 miles back into Madison. For some reason my legs were in overdrive. I must have passed five dozen riders like they were standing still out on Seyne and Whalen Road (sorry Brian). I starting questioning myself…“do they know something I don’t, are they saving their legs for the run, should I hold back? But it feels so effortless? What’s going on?” Whatever the case might have been I figured I was going to continue to haul ass because I still didn’t know what to expect when I got off the bike for the marathon. And I think it was at this point when I had a hard and fast reality check. Yes, I am now going to run a marathon, let me say that to myself again, marathon… “Holy cow, I have to run 26.2 miles.” Obviously I’ve known this all along but now as I’m heading into transition, it is REALITY!

3:05pm: I dismount my bike and very pleased with my time: 6:31:07, (my goal was between 6:15:00 and 6:30:00). My thought – “wow, that was an awesome bike ride. I feel really good, I could of kept going”. I am happy that two of the three events were successfully completed, managed the small crisis as they presented themselves and still having fun! Now I just need to feel what the running legs have for me.

Mile 1 on the run: I’m ACTUALLY running, a slow little pace but it feels good… not great, and it’s very manageable! My thought – “okay, I’ll take this, not so bad. Let me see how it feels as I continue.” I’m very encouraged and relieved that I am actually running. Well okay, some people might not qualify my forward locomotion as running, but it was not a walk. Slowly I built into a rhythm as I pass all of the screaming spectators in town. Everyone was calling my name… “how do I know all of these people?” My head starts turning in every direction when I hear my name, is that Shira, Jill, Katie? Only moments later do I realize that my name is printed on the bib number that I have pinned on the front of my shorts. I give a little chuckle to myself… still having fun!!!

Mile 4 on the run: I’m running along a quieter portion of the course, still feeling good and then I hear the cow bell, I see two girls jumping up and down like maniacs, screaming GO CASSIE, you look AWESOME!! My support crew has made it back into Madison; it’s Jill and Shira! I was so happy to see them, so happy to finally have someone to report to, “hey, look at me, I’m running, I’m running, I feel great”!!! I’m jumping up and down, grinning ear to ear, give them a high five and they encourage me to continue on. What a great day! What great friends!

Mile 10 on the run: Still running along, my initial goal for the marathon was to run the run and only walk through the water stops to make sure I’m taking in enough nutrition. I have been sticking to the pre-accident plan and very happy. Although the joy of running has totally distracting me from the fact that nausea was starting to affect me. I switch to cola on the next few stops to try to settle my stomach… it works, success!

Mile 16 on the run: Becoming more fatigued, pain starting to increase in my tail when I would stop to walk and then start to run again. My left knee is also not happy and out of nowhere I get a massive nosebleed? I’m starting to question my sanity. “Why am I doing this, oh yeah – it’s fun”? Okay, this is not feeling fun anymore but I am almost there, I have a mere 10 miles to go. The race began almost 11 hours ago, I certainly can power through the remaining distance. I pass a sign that a spectator made – “Pain is temporary, Pride is forever”. That put a bounce back into my step.

Mile 20 on the run: I look at my watch… the time: 6:58PM, the sun is starting to recede into the horizon for the day. This race started almost 12 hours ago, I only have 6 miles left. I start negotiating with myself… can I pull this off in under 13 hours? If I run 10-minute miles I can make it to the finish line before 8:00pm. A 12-13 hour race was my initial time goal. The goal I wasn’t supposed to set for myself, the one that I had to concede after the accident. I clock my split on the next mile to determine my pace. I lived that dream for a brief 11 minutes. My pace was not going to get me into to the finish line in under 13 hours. But it did give me one more lift of inspiration to get there sooner than later. I have had dreams for the last few months of what it would feel like to run down the last 100 meters of the run, around the state Capital where all the spectators would be lined up 5 and 6 deep, screaming, cheering and ringing bells.

Mile 26: I’ve been moving for over 13 hours non-stop (alright, 4 brief bathroom breaks - which is an amazing feat for me)! It’s dark, the temperature is still quite warm. I hear the rumble of the crowd, the music blaring into the night, I’m approaching Main street, the spectators are getting more dense in numbers, they are relentless, screaming your name, determined to cheer you to the finish line. I’m trying to absorb this moment, this feeling of euphoria, I’m getting chills down my spine, and my eyes are puffing up. I turn the corner. I’m on the carpet!!! I can see the finish line!!! I’m high-fiving the spectators as run by. I thrust my fists into the air, I’m screaming… YEAH!!! YEAH!!! Then I hear it… CASSANDRA DICKINSON FROM CHICAGO ILLINOIS, YOU ARE AN I R O N M A N!!!!

The time clock above me – 13:13:26! I did it, I conquered the course that I thought might conquer me first. Barring the pain, the injuries, the heat, and everything else the day threw at me. I deflected it all. And I will be back next year to do it all over AGAIN!

Thank you everyone who was there to cheer me on. Jill and Shira you two were truly amazing on race day and just as supportive on all of the days leading up to the main event. Beth, thank you for putting up with my “meticulous” demeanor all season… you have a heart of gold and patience of a saint. Congratulations on your fine race! To my clients, all of you have been flexible and understanding with scheduling and rescheduling appointments to allow me to get my long training days in – I thank you.

A special thanks to those of you who never stopped believing that I would be able to pull this off after my accident. You’re words of encouragement really did help when I started to doubt myself with just hours to go.

I will forever flash back to that feeling of euphoria when climbing Old Sauk Road, it was as amazing as crossing the finish line. Jill, Shira and Becca, I LOVED the signs! Katie, Lisa, Dana, Dan, Lorn, Tricia, Vicki, Dana Rothchild, Diane, Cathy it was great to see you guys and hear my name! And I know there were many of you sitting in front of the computer on Sunday tracking my progress and supporting me from afar. Thank you. Thank you. Thank You!

“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
— T.S. Elliot