Much love, keep moving forward- Jackie....

This is an email and a re-cap that my best friend Jackie wrote and one that I dont ever want to forget either, as it was her memory of her experience of the Ironman day. Our experience was similar, yet totally different, in our own ways... and with her permission, I wanted to share her email with you all...


To my wonderful friends and family,

(I wanted to send out an e-mail to anyone interested in hearing what I had to say, but especially to thank, thank, thank EACH of you for making this day what it was. I cannot, absolutely cannot at all, express just how preciously unique every single one of you is to me, and I will always remember, specifically, what each of you contributed to this experience in your own priceless way).

Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31

Four minutes before our alarm clock barked, Amy jumped over to my bed and eagerly woke me up. It was 4:06 am. I freaked. This was it. 285 days of commitment. I couldn't think beyond the moment. Teeth brushed. Check. Face washed. Check. Prayers. Check. Suit, time-chip, goggles, swim cap, check, check, check. We walked out the door, lights out, and hopped on an empty hotel elevator. I sensed we were the first athletes awake. We were allowed to do last minute bike maintenance, so Amy pumped my tires, and put my water bottles in place, while I walked to the starting line to hold our spots. I got my body marked, number 588, and then took a seat on the cold concrete, waiting for the rest of the gang to appear. Before long, Sarah, Amy, Jason, Rory, Madelyn, and I sat in our circle just in awe of what was about to happen. Two Gatorades, a Cliff Bar, a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and banana later, I bolted for the port-a-pot. Still wondering how much longer till my family would arrive, and how they would ever find me, I open the bathroom door to exit, and one foot from my face is Justin! He turns to my dear friend Deb, who is rummaging through the crowd with him, and reassures her of our ESP-twin thing. We played it off like this is totally normal, which it actually is ;), and immediately we knew this was going to be a perfect day.

A few minutes later I am with my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and some friends, just getting excited, sharing some last minute thoughts when the “gate” opens and we follow one another, single file, to the starting docks, unable to say much, and shivering from the abnormally cold weather. We stop in line to say a group prayer, thanking God for this amazing opportunity, which He gave us all as a powerful gift. Sarah, Amy, and I give our last hugs, and “love you's,” … and at precisely 7:00.45, I hit the water. The water was warm, my pace felt good; the sun was shining on me. There is nothing but the quiet and calm. There has always been something I've cherished about the water. It could not have been more enjoyable. There were no athletes near me by the time I cleared the channel. Not a soul, but my friend Jason. I saw him every time I turned to breath. We stayed side by side until the end of our 2.4 mile swim. It was a wonderful awareness. I could see the fans along the shore, but only heard the silence. This was one of my favorite times of the whole day, and all of me didn’t want it to end.

Exiting the water was thrilling. It was the first time I heard people screaming my name. I ran through the transition area, grabbed my bike gear bag, and headed to the changing tent. Two women kindly helped me undress, then dress. They caked on my sunscreen. I ran out the tent and see Deb, Todd and Christian. Deb is snapping pictures, and Todd is screaming at me to hurry. I force the last drops of Powerade down, and then throw my water bottle at him because I didn’t know what else to do with it. I finagle my way through the 2,500 bikes, find my red Felt, clip in, and then pedal for 112 miles. At mile 50, I cried. Not because of pain, but because of joy. I was riding through the country-side, forgetting what I was doing, but was quickly reminded when I look to see an IRONMAN sign sitting alone in a field next to me. The IRONMAN symbol was first worn on the Timex wrapped around my wrist when I was a young swimmer. Around the age of 10 I was told about the IRONMAN. I knew that someday I wanted to do it, but I did not ever believe I actually would. It seemed unreachable, and only for the fierce, insane people with thick accents, washboard abs and freakishly amazing talent. I was none of these, but here I am, looking at this same symbol of strength and discipline that fascinated me as a child, and the dream would soon be mine. All I could do was “sit” in awe of thanksgiving, thanking my Lord behind wet eyes for making this happen.

For nearly 25 miles of my bike, I had to pee so badly that I couldn’t even sit in the aero-position. It hurt. Always indecisive, I spent nearly an hour deciding whether to stop at a port-a-pot, or be like Lance, and go in my pants. I tried the latter, but to no avail, so when mile 65 came, Deb, Todd, and Christian were manning a penalty tent, and I decided to dismount my saddle, say hello, and pop-a-squat. And so this is what I did. And I didn’t care who saw. I chatted with them for a minute or two, and then got back on my seat for the rest of the day. One rest stop was all I took.

The run; wow. Mile one hurt. Miles 2-9 flew by. 10-12 I wondered how long till I’d walk. Mile 13-15 I saw Amy up ahead and was finally with her by about mile 16. Amy and I spent the next 8 miles talking, walking, running, moving fast, moving slow, stopping at toilets, eating, drinking, grabbing our own stomachs in pain, resting hands on our knees waiting for the vomit, hunched over, nauseous, dizzy, and in pain. I remember my hips screaming at me, my arthritic knees were painless; it seemed to be everything else that hurt. At multiple times I felt like asking others “excuse me, would you say I am walking right now, or running.” I had no idea. At mile 23 I remember just thinking this was it. I was done. Three miles was all that remained, and by 8:00 PM I would have crossed the finish line; a moment I have waited for and worked at for so long. I knew it would be electric. I didn’t catch his name, but my last conversation was with a three-time IM finisher, a 38 year old from Chicago. We chatted for about 2 miles, and then with less than a minute till we turned “the corner” he asked me if “I was ready?” It was more of a statement than a question. He sort of laughed, and in his face told me that this was going to be like nothing I’d experienced, and he was dead right. I saw 41 of some of the most significant people in my life, all of them were there for me, pushing me till the end, smiling, excited, elated, some crying, some laughing. I saw hundreds of strangers making the loudest commotion, banging, yelling, music playing, lights flashing. It was intense, and magic and explosive. I thought I would truly bust from elation and happiness. I felt nothing in my body, just all in my heart. I cross the line. I look to my right and see my twin crying; I had the laughter, he had the tears. I next see, then squeeze, my parents and future sister, I grab my mom’s cell phone with my sister on the other line, then hugged everyone else as they trickle my way, still only able to smile. I am without words, just pure and simple bliss. Minutes behind me were my two training buddies, Sarah Menefee and Amy Miranda, two girls that became unique in my life; from the outside looking in, this experience can’t be understood, but from the inside looking out it can’t be explained. This is what we share together. And I love these two friends extraordinarily and ceaselessly.

I cannot articulate what lives inside that yearned for this experience, but it’s been there since I was a little girl. Somewhere in the last 9+ months I believe Christ gave me a greater view of what was at hand; the road of life, a road to the end. A journey promised to not be easy, a guarantee of prospering, but facing many trials. A fight we are to take on, and endure with faith. We do have a finish line to get to. One where I know for certain I will meet my Savior, and the greatest “finish” I believe man has found on earth will only darkly pale in comparison to the one still ahead. This to me is the inner, spiritual gift I’ve been blessed to see. It’s when I can say that I see the forest for the trees. I can believe in the gloriously unseen, and all things appear meaningless to me in comparison with eternal realities. It’s when I am alone with my Lord on this crazy road of life and He says to me to remember what He said through Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have kept the faith.” And because of what Christ did on the Cross-, His unfailing and unshakable love, we will one day soon get our reward. I only imagine it’s beyond compare. Not comprehendible; a time ‘when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees’ – I will continue to dream of a finish like that.

Much love, keep moving forward- Jackie....