Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2011 Race Report

I was hoping that becoming an Ironman would expand my memory capacity and ability to recall even the most minute details about the race on Sunday…you know, things like at exactly which bike miles I peed myself, the dude’s number who drank a full beer on mile 24 of the run, and how many times I fully expected to be the subject of one of the embarrassing internet photos that gets you into a club that no one past the age of 3 wants to be a part of (no one said triathlon was a pretty sport!)…but that definitely hasn’t happened. Here’s the race according to G, which means much of it is true, some of it is exaggerated, and parts of it are totally made up (but usually for comic relief, which is a very valid reason to lie). You have been warned.

Ironman week started early for me. I left Seattle on Wednesday with a quick stop at Gerk’s to pick up my race wheels on the way. I’m not much of a research person, nor am I much of a mathlete; so, even if the most recent studies show that an aero helmet might make more of a difference than race wheels, I figured the wheels would make me look cool in pictures…and the super sperm helmet would not. It’s really all about the pictures (whoever designed tri-kits disagrees, but that’s another topic completely).

I got to Mark & T’s house just in time to interrupt their dinner and witness some good kid scolding. I really do think there has to be something so satisfying about ordering around little people. Connie was nice enough to volunteer to give me full reign to keep those angels in line, but I think I was too worried that all 90 pounds of her would actually kick my ass if I tried, so I just watched in awe as the Cunningham’s laid down the law. Lucky kids to have such studs for parents (even if I agree with the kids that horse play in the hot tub is totally acceptable behavior)!

After the tacos, T & I spent some time going through my race plan. I had crafted the perfect plan which involved a sub-hour swim; 2 minute transitions; 5:30 on the bike; and a sub-4 marathon. Basically, we both agreed that I was in the running for a Kona slot and that if I just fueled properly and cheated my ass off, I’d get it. I ended the evening by giving T some tips on swimming and teaching Mark how to change a flat on his bike and then went to bed early. The weather had a different plan though – thunder, lightning, and pouring rain made for a restless night. I may have been just a touch nervous about the race, but every time I thought about it, I would just try to convince myself that I was the best around and that nothing was gonna keep me down…and that if all went to shit, I could crash my bike into a ditch and get an honorable discharge from the race with hopefully minimal bodily harm.

I spent the day Thursday checking into our house, standing in line at registration, and watching cheap tv. Since I’ve cancelled my cable, I can now spend hours watching the worst of the worst. I’m still on pins and needles about the finale of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding…and please, no one tell me if the Real Housewives of Orange County get more botox at the end of this season.

IronHank, IronNeen, and Darcy arrived late afternoon and we took a quick trip to Post Falls to pick up my bike. I’d left it there the night before hoping that some real triathlete mojo would rub off on it and make me faster on the bike leg. I think it may have actually worked! I did learn that even if you’re just taking your bike on a spin around the block to make sure the gears are working smoothly, you must completely kit up head to toe in TN gear. Thanks for that lesson, Mark!

Friday was spent packing, unpacking, repacking, making lists, checking them four hundred times, and doing other things that I can’t remember. I did take a little dip in the hot tub known as Lake Coeur d’Alene. It was fantastically refreshing. I met the rest of the team who’d arrived on Friday by the Lake and we all anxiously swam, chatted, and shivered. I met Kiet and a few other many-time Ironman racers…I wouldn’t say this added to my confidence level as most of them looked like they were wearing those t-shirts that have ridiculous muscles drawn on them. In this case, though, the muscles were real. Shit, what have I gotten myself into?!

Steph and Krista rolled into town after pulling an all nighter driving from Reno. At first I wondered if I’d told them that the race was on the wrong day, but in the end I realized that they were just scared to stop at Coffin Road in the middle of the night for a nap. They definitely win the prize for the furthest travel to cheer, as well as the prize for most vigorous cheerers. I expect a new company to be born based on the premise that people can hire Steph & Krista to cheer for them when their family can’t make it. I’m going to invest and think you should, too.

Saturday was the arrival of the parentals and the rest of the Spectathletes. Before everyone arrived, I drove the bike course. I had all of this anxious energy and needed some loud music, some fresh air, and some reaffirmation that the course wasn’t all hills. Two of the three of those things happened (the hills were sadly a reality). I also saw a few things that I considered to be good luck charms – two pairs of mama/baby deer crossing the road; a couple of gigantic turkeys; and a sign that said ‘Big Hill’ across the top, ‘Don’t Care’ across the bottom, and had a picture of a honey badger in the middle. If you’re familiar with the honey badger, you’ll be laughing as much as I was.

I talked to my brother, and as per the usual, his advice made me tear up and quickly change the subject so he wouldn’t know I was on the verge of crying. He said that I should live moment to moment, with the excitement of the end goal in mind…but never get past that next moment because I am capable of doing anything for a moment. He said it much more eloquently than I just did, but the message is still the same. He also affirmed that he and his family weren’t going to be able to make the drive to spectate, which was super disappointing to me. I tried not to pout and thanked him for the words of wisdom…and told him I’d update him with results when I was finished.

Mom and Dad got in early afternoon and we spent some quality time catching up. My mom was getting less and less convinced I was going to die by the hour, so I consider that a ‘win’. I also got an Ironman apron and a leash for IronDog from them as a gift, which was an awesome reality check that I was hopefully going to be an Ironman sometime very soon!

The Spectathletes (Julia, Jess, Tim, Lindy, IronDog) arrived after an interesting trek through EWa, wherein they saw a petrified forest, dinosaurs, and then finished the journey by making Julia ride the final four miles to the house on a bike. Totally normal behavior. The dudes drank whiskey; Hank, Neen and I ate pasta; and the house was cleared and we were in bed by 730ish PM.

The Day
IronDay dawned early. I had been practicing getting up at 4am because I knew sleep would be super important to my ability to complete the race. So I made some coffee, put on my race day outfit, and gathered my nutrition from the fridge for my bike and special needs bags. I ate some toast with honey and when I couldn’t get more than a piece down, I cracked back into the pasta and ate it straight from the bowl. Reckless.

I was 99% excited at that point, and only 1% nervous. I’d landed squarely on the denial step of the 12 steps and wasn’t to be moved. I had convinced myself that I was just out for a little swim/bike/run, and that it was not the biggest athletic feat of my entire life. I did something similar when I climbed Kilimanjaro…it was all about how many lies I could tell myself and actually convince myself to believe them. Ahhh, the glories of having a mind susceptible to suggestion.

Steph dropped us off a couple of blocks from the transition area, and we dropped bags, got body marked, and proceeded to pump up our bike tires. I couldn’t get air in my tires, so when the camera crew was finished with Hank (he was wearing a full-on Rocky robe like it was totally normal…which, actually, it is if you know him), he helped me inflate my tires. Damn you race wheels, you make me feel like I’ve never done basic bike maintenance before!

We still had about an hour before it was time to gear up, so we took a last pitstop at a hidden bathroom, and I lost the Lomasneys. I was headed to the morning clothes bag drop area, in progress with putting on my wetsuit, and had another good luck sign – a Rusted Root song came on the speakers that I used to listen to with my friends Cody & Luke in college. Luke passed away in his early 20s running the Chicago Marathon, and I always think of him when I do anything physically challenging. I took it as a sign that he was thinking of me that day when the song came on…and my nerves were miraculously totally gone. I felt ready. I felt strong. I felt totally unaware of what I was getting myself into.

I walked through the transition and ran into T, Mark, Jeff, Connie & the angels, Ann, and Erin. Great to see each of them before the swim start. Erin and I were actually able to start together after the gun – I knew I was in for a great day with all of the luck and supportive folks that were surrounding me!!

The Swim
Erin and I waded into the water and quickly lost each other. It was rough for about 5 minutes, but I modified my stroke so that I could protect my head (read, keep my goggles on) and so that I could actually get some movement quickly in the cold water. My mind was basically out to get me. The first 20 thoughts I had were about how I couldn’t do what the day was about to send my way…that I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer…that I hadn’t trained enough (which, actually, might have been true as I would have loved to have been more consistent on my training in the last couple of months). Again, I had to talk those voices down and replace them with the silly mantras I’d been practicing with for months. I started to focus on my breathing, to see how even and easy I could get it. I focused on counting my strokes and seeing how close I could stay to the dude off of whom I was drafting. I even focused on the way the water sounded as it sloshed around my head…anything to keep me in rhythm, on task, and positive.

I got to the first turn buoy and heard someone say “Why is it such a cluster-f@#$ around here?” Normally, I would respond something smart like – because you’ve stopped to have a conversation, dumbass…but instead I just did the sweet swimmer’s buoy turn where you alternate crawl/backstrokes until you’ve turned the corner. That got me through the hordes of folks amazingly well and I was pumped that at least 30 people saw how professional I looked doing it.

The rest of the first loop consisted of finding clear water and trying to avoid this guy swimming behind me that was trying to drown me. He kept holding on and pushing me down, so finally I kicked him in the face and he got the point. I got out of the water with absolutely no idea how I’d done and was immediately slammed in the face with an almost 45 minute swim. What the hell?!? I should have been at least 5-7 minutes faster than that! I ran back in all pissed off and in a tizzy and promptly got kicked in the eye and had to pop my head up because I was laughing so hard. I totally deserved that kick in the face, so I took it as a sign to settle down, decompose my swim, and see what I could do to improve. I realized after about 20 minutes of a mental checklist that my problem was my inability to keep my fingers together. They were frozen into jazz hands (fingers spread apart) and so my catch and pull were completely inefficient. I fist swam for about 20 strokes so I could clench/unclench my fingers, and then went back at it.

All in all, I had a craptastic swim, but I saw so many TN peeps and the Spectathles coming up out of the water that all was forgotten. After all, I was officially one-third Ironman.
Goal: 1:15
Actual: 1:29:28

The Bike
I had redemption on my mind for the bike portion of my IronJourney. My only other triathlon (Wildflower Half-Iron in Cali) was a huge hilly bitch, and my bike time showed that – I biked 56 miles in 3 hours 41 minutes. That’s a pace of ass-slow per mile, and I wanted to prove to myself that I hadn’t dropped almost three grand on a pretty looking triathlon bike for nothing.

So…I started passing people. I continued passing people. I kept passing people until Hayden Lake, when I realized that I had to pee. Before training with a whole bunch of bonafide rockstar Ironman triathletes, I’d always wondered what they did when they had to pee. I figured they’d get off the bike and try to make it to a port-o-potty…or at the very least, a bush. Not the case. The hard core triathletes like me who have done lots and lots of triathlons (also like me) just let it go on the bike. Find a hill, check to make sure no one’s behind you, get out of your saddle, and let it go. I found out (three times, actually) that it’s definitely not that easy. It took all of my concentration as a 31 year old to pee myself. I can tell you with pride that I did and would do it again in a second. It really allowed me to stay in rhythm, to keep my heart rate consistent (although my Garmin had long since given out on me as it said I was doing too many laps and had to delete data before continuing…bummer), and to keep my legs spinning. It also allowed me to stay comfortable on my saddle – which is REALLY hard to do after a hundred miles on a bike.

T always tells me that I should shoot for a negative split on my bike, but I really like to keep things positive, so I went with it. I did slow down on the second loop…but I really don’t think that it was because my legs gave out. I was tired, absolutely – but I also started puking at about mile 90, right before Laura Lee pulled up next to me to give me a red card for drafting off of the person 100 feet in front of me. She actually didn’t, but I really thought I was going to get into trouble for doing something stupid and rookie-like. She was just there to tell me I looked strong and give me support. Loved that and totally needed it.

Back to the puking…my nutrition seemed spot on all day long. I was taking a gu every 30 minutes, 16-24 oz of Perform plus sips of water every hour, and even a few of my treats, which were honey chews. I’d practiced with everything, and had never had gut trouble before…but I just couldn’t keep much down after mile 90. Another thing that’s possible to do while in aero? Vomit without hitting your bike. Again, I’m basically a professional.

The course support was awesome. So many TNM-ers out and about; the Spectathletes and my parents at every turn…and a really clutch placement on behalf of Josh Hadway way out in the middle of nowhere. So exciting to see him out there! I also passed (and by passed, I mean, they were way ahead of me) Mark, Jeff, and Travis…I saw Erin and Neen on the course…and I even passed (and by passed, I mean, caught up to and overtook) Hank. He passed me back about 2 minutes later and I was left saying ‘Where’d whoooooooooo gooooooooooooo’, but it was still a great confidence boost to know that I was staying strong on the bike. I ended the ride with a huge finish chute cheering section and left my shoes on my bike (pro status). I could barely walk when I dismounted, but it felt awesome to take some pressure off of my seat and stand up straight for the first time in 6 hours!
Goal: 6:30
Actual: 6:23:36, 17.52 MPH

The Shuffle
I knew I was in trouble within minutes of starting my run. My gut was a mess, I couldn’t stand up straight, and my right foot was completely asleep. I had to pull my shit together to pass the TN tent, and mumbled through a half-smile ‘Pukey, pukey!’ to T when she asked how I was doing. This 5 minute section of the run was the hardest 5 minutes of the entire day. In fact, it might have been the hardest 5 minutes I’ve had since I started training in late September. My goal was to run the first half of the marathon, and then walk as I needed to after that. I’m not a strong runner. If I was to skip a workout, it would almost always be a run. In general, I really hate running more than I hate bad drivers and people that leave only one square of toilet paper left on a roll. So naturally, I wasn’t looking forward to the run.

I was pleasantly surprised, though, that after about a mile of walking I was able to actually start to run. My pace was painfully slow (the Garmin was back and registering 11 minute miles), but I felt like I could run that fast (slowly) forever. I wasn’t winded, my legs didn’t hurt, and my foot had awakened. I kept up the run through the first 5-6 miles of the course, and kept getting in a little bit of nutrition at each passing aid station. I threw up one more time during those miles, but my stomach settled a little bit and I was able to keep nutrition in.

I did some math in my head (dangerous) and realized that I had a shot of going sub-14. Now, my initial goal was to finish the Ironman only. That’s what T had designed my training program to do. I set a stretch goal to beat 15 hours…and only when I started laying out my race plan did I realize that I could actually come in during the 13th hour if everything went impeccably. My day was far from perfect, but I still had sub-14 in mind.

That lasted for about another mile, and then the stomach cramps set in. I was no longer vomiting, but the gut issues were still there…and I made use of every port-o-potty from mile 7 on in the marathon. I was able to take nutrition in, and my legs felt great – but every time I’d start to run, I’d have to beeline it to the nearest port-o-potty. I tried various versions of coke/chicken broth/water/perform/chips/cookies/pretzels, but nothing worked. I had sealed my fate and was resigned to walking.

I’d reached mile 15 (after another spectacular Spectathle & TNM showing on the turnaround) and I did some more math. If I could run an 11 minute mile for the last few miles, I could finish sub-14. I psyched myself up for about 5 minutes, and started to run at a pace significantly faster than the faux-running I’d done when passing the cheering sections (who wants to walk when there’s all sorts of people around?!). In that moment, my dreams of sub-14 were dashed. I realized that I had to do what was best to finish happy instead of in pain, and that was to take my time and let my gut dictate my pace.

So, all in all, I walked probably 40% of the marathon, spent 10% in a port-a-potty, spent 5% thinking about being in a port-o-potty, and spent the remainder running. I’m ok with that, especially considering the alternative!

I passed the last aid station and could hear the announcer at the finish line. I saw a huge group from Pauole, who were super supportive as they could see my TN kit. I slowed to a walk as the turn down Sherman was one block ahead. I think this confused them, but when I explained that I was just taking it all in, they laughed and said – enjoy it! You’ll remember this forever!

I turned the corner on Sherman and someone told me I had six blocks left. Hells to the yes, I’m almost there. I can do anything for six blocks! One block later, a mystery man in a black t-shirt caught my attention. Our names are on our numbers, but I was surprised that he could see my name through the fading light. I turned to look closer and realized – it was my brother! I completely lost my shit and started crying. If I had my own personal ESPN highlights reel for my life, this would be the number 1 moment, even over crossing the finish line. He gave me a quick hug, said he was proud of me, and I thanked him for coming and proceeded down the finish chute.

I saw the TN team in all of their glory –seriously could not have done this race without those guys and gals and all of their support over the last year. What an amazing group of people – I’m so lucky to have trained with them!

I ran another block, and saw the Spectathletes. Well, I actually heard them – they were chanting ‘Vieve! Vieve! Vieve!’ as loud as they could and they got the crowd all riled up to support them and me. What an amazing gift to have friends like those yahoos…THANK YOU to Tim, Jess, Julia, Steph, Krista, Lindy, Darcy, Hank, and DJ for being there!

The last block was all my own. I realized what a rough journey it’d been…giving up weekends, nights, friendships, relationships – even awesome trips and experiences that were once in a lifetime opportunities. It was all totally worth it. I don’t think most people understand why, but for me, setting a seemingly impossible goal and achieving it is really one of my favorite parts of living. The people that supported me through it are the other half of that equation – THANK YOU for dealing with me for the last year! Ok, who am I kidding. Thank you for dealing with me for the last 31 years 

I crossed the finish line, got my picture taken, and it was over. My legs felt fine. My heart felt full. I grabbed my nephews as soon as I could find them and started blabbering on excitedly about my experience. My parents were proud; my friends were proud; my teammates and coaches were proud…I soaked in that feeling for all it was worth! I’ll never forget it. I cannot wait until the next IronJourney, but in the meantime, I’ll be there paying it forward in Canada for all of my fellow teammates and friends.

Goal: Sub-5
Actual: 6:13:13

The Credits
I’m so worried that I’m going to leave someone out, so instead of listing a cast of thousands from the Spectathletes, TNM life, Carroll life, Seattle life, family life…I’ll list just a single name – thank you Coach T! You’re my hero, my voice of reason, and the baddest swimmer I know. Can’t wait to be your course support any time, any place.

Overall:
Goal: Finish….then 15 hours…then sub 14
Actual: 14:17:04

Great Whites

4pm, Daddy Long Legs Hotel, Capetown South Africa

So...I've fullfilled one of the tasks on the life's list of to-dos. I was in the water with great white sharks today. It was fantastic. We headed to a little town further south from Capetown (umm...Gansberg? Pronounced Hansberg?) at about 5am...there was a group of 20 of us from all over the world, of course mostly men. I don't get why women don't want to dive with sharks! There were a few random new wifes and mothers, but generally it was men in their 20's and 30's. Anywho, we headed out after a serious briefing about keeping our hands and feet inside the cage. The water was crazy rough - about 10 foot swells to start, growing to 15 foot swells. We suited up amongst jumping whales and seals and waited for the sharks to come.

We ended up seeing only a few sharks. Three of us, out of the 20, were in the water with said sharks. That said, it was enough for me. I got to see jaws, and tails, and bodies, and bloody bait. I was underwater when the skipper was pulling the bait toward us - and got to watch as a mature female (15+ feet long) swam directly for me, bumped the cage, and veered off at the last possible moment.

We had to pull the plug early, unfortunately. If it'd been perfect weather, I would have spent much more time freezing my ass off and diving with the beasts. Unfortunately, a few minutes is all I got - but that just may be enough for a lifetime!

Tomorrow I'm heading to the wine country to stock up on presents to bring back for my Seattle family. Tuesday I'll spend in Joburg. And Wednesday...well, we all know what Wednesday brings!

Hope you're all well. Can't wait to see you soon!

Cheers!
G

Bye Bye Zanzibar

10AM, Zanzibar Internet Cafe

I had a long blog typed up and then lost computer connection, so I've listing only the highpoints:

1) Diving almost everyday. Awesome. The water here is warm, the coral very alive, and the fish and marine life plentiful. My body is tired of diving so much (and my legs are tired of jellyfish stings) so I've packed my mask for the duration of my trip - but I would highly recommend this island to anyone interested in seeing beautiful stuff underwater!

2) Stonetown is fantastic. Skinny little winding streets, old buildings, markets that have everything from furniture to fish auctions (including flying octopus and such when the highest bidder is announced - they're definitely more accurate with their aim in Seattle!).

3) Food here is delicious. Lots of spices and seafood (Zanzibar is the spice island). Also, the coffee can't be topped. Even in Seattle. Still no bagels and cream cheese though...

4) Nighlife is fun here. I'm spent most of my time with some expats that are either living here, getting Divemaster certs here, or just vacationing. We've consumed a lot of good African wine and great African food.

4) Headed to South Africa today - Capetown. Planning to spend a day or two on a boat in the cape, a day or two touring (and sampling) the wine country, and a final day in Johannesburg with a group of folks Lynn and I met in Cairo that volunteered to take me around.

5) Home on Wednesday...not looking forward to getting back into the grind, but very much looking forward to seeing all of my Seattle family!

Hope everyone's well. Will hopefully have an exciting post after my day on the Cape tomorrow...

Cheers!
G

I'm not going to cook it but I'll order it from...

8:30 AM, Zanzibar, Internet Cafe on computer with non-functioning space bar

Since I last posted (the space bar thing is going to drive me crazy) I've come to Zanzibar, a small island in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Tanzania. I spent a couple more days around Arusha. The first was spent with a friend of a friend of a friend. Kiware, an Arusha native, took me to a few local places. The idea was that he'd introduce me to a fewlocal projects in need of help (aka funding) and I'd take note of them and possibly help him to define a fundraising plan for the projects. First we visited a local hospital. It's amazing the difference between African hospitals and anything I've seen elsewhere in the world! It was dirty, small, old...the technology (with the exception of a few machines donated by the CDC through Bush's emergency plan) was ancient. They definitely need to expand. The infectious disease ward is in something akin to a barn...the HIV patients were sleeping in rooms with holes inthe walls and roofs, doors that don't close...very,very sad. The whole AIDS situation in this country is staggering. It was staggering stateside, but here, experiencing the culture firsthand -it's almost unfathomable. I also spent some time in the orphanage connected to the hospital. Turns out that mostchildren are orphanedhere not because their parents die, but because theirparents can't afford them. They keephaving child after child...and half of their children end up living in the streets or,ifthey're lucky, in anorphanage. If the child is HIV positive - many orphanages don't taken them...which means theylive alone, with not healthcare, in the streets.

After the hospital, wevisited Molala primary school,which is up in the mountains at the base of MT Meru. The school has 610 students. There are about80 to a classroom - whichis basically a concrete room with a tin roof thatdoesn'tentirely cover the room. The bathrooms are a shack with holes in the ground- no water to wash, no doors on the stalls...generally no hygeniene or privacy whatsoever. The school needs another room and clearly toilet facilities. I was taking pictures ofthe kids playing and suddenly there werea bout 400 kids crowding around me trying tosee themselves in my camera. Definitelysomething I won'tever forget!

Afterthat,Kiware opened his home to me as an honored guest. They presented me with kigare (notsurehow to spellthat) which is traditional fabric women use to make garments. There was also a feastset up - I was invitedfor tea, but was taken very seriously as the honored guest.

The day was exhausting, eye opening, and notsomething I'd like to repeat anytime soon...but I definitelylearned fromthe experience and have some workto do back home to tryto help the people thatwere so kind to mehere.

The next day,I went on a safari to Lake Manyara and Ngorongoro crater. Running out of time - so to put it simply - I sawjustabout every animal one could hope to see in Africa: lions, wildebeasts, baboons, monkeys, hippos, rhinos, giraffes, zebras,etc etc etc. It was completely surreal. Ithink the monkeys and elephants were my favorite- but Ihave to admit, giraffe's are freakingcool, too. Really weirdwhen you actually think about an animalwitha neckthat long!

I'm now in Zanzibar, about ready to go diving. The spacebaris driving me bonkers so going tosign off - but needless to say,Zanzibar is amazing. Ithink I was meant tolive on an island. The weatheris beautiful, the beaches are beautiful - even the architecture is interesting. I'll be here until Saturday, when I flyto Joburg S Africa fora few days before coming home. Vacation's almostover!

Hope youallare well and have functioning spacebars,wherever you may be.

Cheers!
G

Kilimanjaro

Excerpts from what I can remember and what I've written in my journal about my Kili climb...

Sometime between 10pm Tuesday and sunrise Wednesday, Summit Day

Step, step, step, breathe....step, step, step, breathe....step, step, step, breathe...look up. Look up. Headlamps snaking up the mountain as far as the eye can see. Tilt your head...you can do it..breathe...are those headlamps or are they stars? Where does the darkness of the mountain end and the darkness of the sky begin? Look behind you...breathe...see the lights from Moshi - that's how far you've come. See the headlamps snaking down the mountain...you're in the middle, you can do it. You can do it. Distract yourself. What's everyone at home doing? Working, they're all working. Not a very good distraction. Think about the stars. Remember when you and Gabe used to sleep on the trampoline under the stars in the summer? Waking up so cold and damp from the condensation...cold and damp, I'm definitely cold and damp....follow Ian's footsteps. You can do it. Step, step, step, breathe...step, step, step, breathe...

It alll began Friday, October 4. For someone that doesn't get nervous, I'm scared as hell. This is even scarier than skydiving, but it's been scary for about two months straight, culminating in this moment. I met my climbing partners, Chris and John, last night for dinner - they're from the States, Little Rock and Atlanta respectively. Both mid-30's, both seem very nice. It's just the three of us, our guide Ian, assistant guide Benny, 9 porters, chef Omari, and waiter Ino (as in Innocent). We've just been introduced to our team and are heading from Arusha to the Machame gate. Our van has gotten stuck three times on the drive up - it's rainy and wet and the roads are steep - not good for bald tires and 3 cylinders. Our guide seems to be incredibly well respected by the team in the back of the van. He looks to be mid-30's (36 i found out later) and has dreadlocks halfway down his back. He's quick with a smile and looks genuinely thrilled to be climbing the mountain (he's lost count but thinks this is aroun dhis 250th time).

We finally reach the gate, buy passes, and sign in. I still feel nervous, even after two hours in a van. I also feel nauseus (come to find out this is a constant on the climb) and attribute it to the altitude drugs and malaria meds. As the porters balance our luggage and get it weighed by the porter association, I remember a conversation I had last night with a group of 20-30 somethings that had just come off the mountain. One guy, probably my age or a bit younger, told me that he passed out when he reached the top of the mountain and had to be carried down by his guides. Great. Another group mentioned that only half of them had made it....the other half had turned back during summit day. I know quite a few people, relatively, that have climbed Kili. It's not the most physical mountain in the world - in fact, it's far from it. But it is more of a mental challenge than I think most people are used to - myself included. It's 19,340 feet. Most people in the states haven't been higher than around 14,000 feet (mountains in Colorado) and even at that height you can feel the effects of the altitude. No one knows how your body will react to it until you actually test it - some people die (many have died on Kili), some get sick with headaches or nausea, and some are completely fine, no complications whatsoever except labored breathing. I would venture to guess there are very few people in that last category. My nervousness stems from not knowing if I'll react poorly and not being able to assure myself that I'll be able to muscle my way through this one. I won't know if I'll be successful until I actually get there and try it.

After we ate lunch at the Machame we began hiking. The pace was slow (pole, pole - slowly, slowy in Swahili). The first day is Machame gate to Machame camp...all through rainforest. Not sure how far we hiked, but we hiked for about 5.5 hours. Easy day - about a 4 on a difficulty scale of 1 to 10. It rained on us a bit, but generally the weather was good for a rainforest and the scenery beautiful. We got to camp around 5, were stuffed with food (the team force feeds you as most people lose their appetite at altitude...so I spent most of the week feeling ridiculously full). Our campsite was beautiful that night - it was cloudy so we didn't see many stars, but the weather was mild and I slept well with rain on my tent. I woke up during the night for a while and was violently sick...more than anything I was worried that I would continue to be sick (which I was) and wouldn't be able to finish...but I tried to sleep it off and felt a bit better when I woke up the next day.

Day two...Machame camp to Shira Camp (12,500 feet). We woke up early and were stuffed with porridge, eggs, sausage, fruit, coffee, tea, etc etc etc. We finished with the rainforest and climbed through moorlands. Really interesting terrain...lots of mosses and flowers that I'd see at home in Montana (impatients, begonias, straw flowers). Today's hike was incredibly steep, but once again very doable for me. It was probably a 5 on a scale of 1 to 10. We arrived at camp around 3 I think - about 6 hours of hiking. We're in the clouds now and finally got our first view of Kili late that night. I've upgraded my flulike symptoms to flulike plus cold - stuffy nose and cough. Generally feel pretty miserable and think it has nothing to do with the altitude. Took a nap and woke up to my tent zippers being iced shut. Definitely colder here...making progress on our climb! Better sleep on day two and no vomiting, which is a bonus.

Day three...Shira Camp, up to Lava Tower (15,000 feet) down to Baranco camp (12,500 feet). Up at 6, first daylight glimpse of Kili. Wow. Once again, way too much food...the day can be summed up as follows (apologies for all of the bodily function references, but they really were such an integral part of the trip :) ):

9am-noon: Step, pole, step, pole, try not to vomit. Repeat.
Noon-12:30: Shiver, eat lunch, shiver, try to stay warm, finish lunch, try to make out lava tower through clouds, no luck, shiver, try not to vomit.
12:30pm-3:30: Step, pole, shiver, step, pole, shiver, step, pole, try not to vomit.
3:30-6:30: Nap at camp, try not to vomit.
6:30-8: Dinner
8: Bed, try not to vomit.

I woke up in the middle of the night to rain on my tent, again...it rained on us every day. Not that big of a deal, but it's hard to put on wet clothes on a cold morning - nothing dries in a tent when the temperature's below freezing outside. I had to get out of the tent to go to the bathroom and realized that, although incredibly miserable to leave the comfort of my sleeping bag, the summit is now within reach. I could actually see it in the moonlight. There were also more stars than I'd ever seen in my life - it was spectacular. The highlight of an incredibly miserable day.

Day 4: Baranco to Barafu (Approx 15,000 feet), nap, then begin Barafu to summit. Day 4 turned out to be the best day yet. The days were progressively more difficult - day 4 being a 6 on a scale of 1-10. We started the day by free climbing the Baranco wall. It was amazing - I can't wait to upload pictures to send around so you can see the beauty of the wall. It's actually incredibly dangerous - people die each year being careless and not ensuring sure footing. Almost every trip porters fall and break legs - they carry these huge bundles on their heads and try to climb faster than all of the climbers - which means they take dangerous routes and generally scramble up as fast as they can, regardless of safety. I didn't see any casualties that morning which was a bonus.

We hiked until about 4:30 - total of around 8 hours of hiking. The end of the day was incredibly step - I could reach out and touch the hill in front of me as I hiked. My climbing partners had trouble on day 4, but I stayed up with Benny our assistant guide and kept pace, trying to push myself as I knew it would only get harder and harder that night when we summited. We had an early dinner (5pm) and tried to sleep for a couple of hours. Didn't work for me - I drifted in and out, but generally coughed and shivered the whole nap. I have so many warm clothes and an increidbe sleeping bag, but as I was sick I just couldn't seem to get warm. The wind howled around my tent and when I did catch 10-15 minutes of sleep, all I did was dream about the summit beginning at 10pm.

Summit night - 10pm. Ino woke me from fitful sleep with warm tea and biscuits. He prayed with me over the food - I don't speak Swahili but I'm sure it was a prayer for strength and safety. He's only 25, but for some reason was such a calming effect on me the whole trip. He woke me every morning with a 'Jambo Dada' (hello sister)...he prayed with us every night over our food...he greeted us with a smile as we reached camp each day...amazing how such a seemingly insignificant role on the team can help my confidence so much. I don't think he'll know how much he affected my climb!!

Anyway, I was feeling scared. It was dark, I was to undertake 10 hours of climbing to reach the summit when I'd just spent 8 hours climbing with about an hour of sleep in between. I was sick, nauseus, had a headache and generally couldn't have felt more ill prepared to take on a ~5,000 vertical foot climb. So...I popped in my iPod and listened to Toto. That's right, Seattle family, Toto got me through. By the time I'd finished Africa - I was ready to go. I got out of my tent wearing almost everything I had: hat, neck gaiter, bandana, three undershirts, two long sleeve shirts, a North Face vest, a winter weight fleece, a huge down jacket, three pairs of long underwear, fleece pants, ski pants, two pairs of socks, and gloves. I had another jacket and more shirts in my bag, along with a camelbak of water (that froze halfway up), my camera batteries tucked in my first layer, and a few Cliff bars to get me through.

Long story short, that night was the most difficult and miserable night of my life. We climbed in the dark from 11pm until 6am when the sunrose. I literally had to fight not to fall asleep climbing - I felt like the Bedouin on Mt Sinaii. We could only stop for a few minutes at a time to rest becuase it was so cold - it was way below zero with wind chill. We saw several people being led down. I heard a woman screaming in a pain and saw her collapse to the ground - summit day was no joke. Not only were we climbing at high altitude, but we were climbing a hill that was mostly scree - so it was two steps forward, one step back. I had to push myself just to put five steps together - most of the time it was three with a breathing break. I can't describe how ill prepared I was for just how difficult a mental task that night was.

But...I MADE IT!! :) I honestly had my doubts during the night. I asked Ian if we were close and he said - you're strong Genny (everyone called me Genny), you can do this. Looking back on that conversation, I felt almost completely exhausted at that point - and still climbed for five more hours. It was 3:30 when I asked him if we were almost there.

We finally saw the sunrise and I could see just how far we'd come and how far we had to go. I pushed myself as hard as I could for the last 20 minutes or so - and reached Stella Point (200M from the top) about 5 mintues before the rest of the team. I sat down on a rock, cried for about 30 seconds (joy, exhaustion, excitement, relief, craziness - you name the emotion, I felt it), and promptly fell asleep. I awoke to another hour of hiking to reach the summit. The distance between Stella Point and Uhuru peak is nominal - at normal elevation I could run it and not even been out of breath. But, amazingly, it took everything I had to reach that point. Everything. I couldn't even enjoy being at the summit because it was so incredibly hard to breathe and my body was completely tapped out. We took and few pictures...and started the hike down.

The rest of the trip was amazing. I'm walking like a 90 year old woman today - the down hill was much harder on my body than the up hill. After we summited, we spent three hours hiking back down to camp, slept for one hour, then spent 6 hours hiking down to the Mweka camp (we descended a different way than we ascended). Yesterday we finished our day, hiking from the Mweka Camp to the Mweka gate, and transported back to Arusha.

I can't stress enough just how difficult that week for me. It wasn't the physical part that was so intimidating - it was pushing myself mentally WAY past my limits and still being able to push even more that took it's toll. I feel such a sense of accomplishment. The interesting part of the climb is that I think some of my most physically fit friends wouldn't be able to do it. Others that are less in shape physically, but strong mentally would have more luck. I strongly encourage anyone who's even thought about attempting it to follow through - the requirements are a strong mind, a strong body, and a little bit of crazy.

That's all for now. Thanks for your emails over the last week - it was great to come back and see that all of you were thinking about me! I've received many mails to which I haven't had time to respond - hopefully this tides you over for a while until my next update.

Only a week and a half left! Hopefully more diving and some time in S Africa before I come home...can't wait to see you all. XOXO

Cheers - G

The Beautiful People

7:50PM, Le Jacaranda Guesthouse, Arusha Tanzania

What a difference a day makes! Yesterday Lynn and I traveled (sans wakeup call, so somewhat frantically) from Sharm to Cairo. We spent our final hours in Cairo lying by the pool and sleeping. I've started my malaria medication and it's making me miserable, so I've had as much downtime as possible in the last two days. I left a sleeping Lynn at around 11:30 last night and ventured out from Zamalek Cairo to the airport...and what an adventure it was! Ramadan is officially over, so almost every citizen of Cairo was partying in the streets. It was fantastic to be part of that special time of the year, even if it's not something that I totally understand...the air was electric with celebration and almost everyone was smiling and happy. Those that weren't smiling were the young kids, ready for bed or sacked out on their parents shoulders. I'm convinced that I saw a Sudanese or Jordanian or maybe even Iraqi shiek at the Marriott as I was leaving - his bodyguards gave me the once over but realized I was harmless. And the man could basically have sat on me and rendered me defenseless with his sheer size alone. It was crazy to feel as if I was so deep in the middle east with women in burkas, bedouins (both of which I'm used to now) and other costumed Muslims wandering around. I think you'd have to be there to understand what I'm trying to say - and I digress. :)

It was fantastic to travel with Lynn. I think we did very well together...and hopefully each learned a little something from the other. Hopefully Lynn can remember sometimes to take a deep breath and enjoy the journey, even if she lives in the fastest paced city in the US...and I can remember that procrastination isn't always the best medicine. Thanks for a great two weeks Lynnie!!

The bad part of yesterday is that I saw a horrendous motorcycle accident which I will not describe to you. I mention it only becuase the driving in Cairo is insane. I tried to video tape it but was unsuccessful as I basically shut my eyes after I saw the accident and until I got to the airport. Please buckle up for safety. :)

I touched the ground of 5 countries today: Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Tanzania. My flight(s) were miserable but the view of Kili peaking through the clouds made up for it when we flew from Nairobi to Kili Airport. As a sidenote, I was the only white person on my first three flights today. Further, I was the only woman traveling alone. Unlike Egypt, I didn't get hassled at all...I got smiles from the beautiful children and their mothers, and strange sidelong glances that turned into smiles from the men on the flights. It's definitely different not to be harrassed at every turn as we were in Egypt!

I landed at Kili and was immediately in awe of the amazingly beautiful massai people. Tall, thin yet athletic, strong features, dark chocolate skin...and each person I saw was dressed in very brighly colored wraps and moving very gracefully, even with 10 gallons of water on his or her head. It was such a contrast to see these stunning people on the brown or green landscape of Tanzania. I cannot wait to have more photo opps!

I've spent the rest of the day packing, unpacking and packing again. I spent a couple of hours with the Massai that works the front gate of my guesthouse. We were talking (via hand signals) about the monkeys that keep him company. Cute little shits, but definitely deviant as they were playing tricks on us almost the whole time we were 'talking' to one another. It is amazing that something as simple as a monkey can bring together two people that don't know one another, dont' speak the same language, have nothing in common yet can somehow communicate - mostly with smiles and laughter. Yet another experience that I'll remember forever (and yes, I may be getting just a little bit sappy at this halfway point of my trip!!).

As my final post before I'm on Kilimanjaro for 6 days (hopefully dominating the crap out of that big-ass mountain)...

A list of 10 things I'll...

...miss about Egypt:
1) Diving in the Red Sea.
2) Hummus and tahini. Yum.
3) Lynn!
4) Sharing 'shisha' (hookah) after a long lazy dinner.
5) Diving in the Red Sea.
6) SAKKARA!! (Has been replaced by Kilimanjaro beer, by the way...)
7) Camels.
8) Swimming in the Red Sea.
9) Lying by the pool.
10) One last time - diving in the Red Sea. Seriously, nothing compares.

...not miss about Egypt:
1) Creepy Egyptian men.
2) Creepy Egyptian men proposing to me.
3) Creepy Egyptian men asking me where I'm from.
4) Creepy Egyptian men following me around the town square.
5) Hit-or-miss food - of all nationalities.
6) The Russian Mob.
7) Creepy Egyptian men trying to bully me into their stores.
8) TV, room service, white bathrobes.
9) Creepy Egyptian men speaking with an Australian or British accent because they don't guess (or can't tell) that I'm American.
10) Driving. On any street, in any town, at any time of day. Not for the faint of heart.

Keep me in your thoughts in the next several days...I had dinner with a man that just came off of Kili, has been doing the 7 Ascents (including Aconcagua and other mountains in the Americas) and he said it was one of the most challenging things he's ever done. I hope that my stubborness wins out over the altitude.

Hope you're all well. Can't wait to see you when I get back! XO

Cheers -
G

A Desert Climb

10AM, Sharm Marriott

The last time I posted we’d just finished diving in Dahab and were looking forward to day two. We did dive day two…it was a rough start: the jeep broke down (how many Bedouins does it take to change a tire?) and we forgot our weight belts. But the dives were fantastic. It was Lynn’s navigation, compass, and night dives. The night dive was the best of the day – at depth during the day, you lose some really bright colors…but when you have a torch at night, you can see them as they should appear during the day. We saw fantastic reds, and blues and even purples. There were HUGE moray eels and a few really big unicorn fish. Excellent dive with great visibility – a great way to end our diving in the Red Sea.

That night we went out on the town – which really is quite mellow compared to our NYC and Seattle standards. A dive guide who’d just gotten off of a week long live aboard (dive boat) with 36 S Africans asked us to meet him and his friends for a drink…so we went to the bar and spent about 3 hours talking to two young Bedouin men about life in Egypt for them. It was fascinating. The first part is that they have different English accents than any other Egyptians – they sound British or even S African. In fact, we asked Shady (the dive guide) for ID to prove that he was Egyptian. They were dressed in normal street clothes – something that men would wear in the US – but they also wear the traditional Bedouin garb, which consists of long caftans and pants (Lynn asked what they wear under their kaftans and meant is it pants or shorts…but of course, the humor of that one translated and they gave us quite a bit of shit J) and colorful head wraps. Shady explained that he started working on the promenade selling handmade scarves and bracelets when he was 6…then grew up to go to Cairo University to study Business Administration. He decided that wasn’t the world for him, so now he dives for a living, although he’s taken the GMAT and hopes to get into MBA school sometime in the next couple of years. Not a bad job in the interim, I must say. It really was so interesting to spend time with them and ask them questions about a lifestyle that is so foreign, yet so familiar in some respects.

We left Dahab yesterday morning and hired a car to drive us to Mt Sinai. We drove through the desert for two hours and finally reached the mountain in the mid-morning. It was spectacular. Most people hike it at night to avoid the sun, then sleep on top of the mountain and watch the sunrise. I wasn’t too keen on that idea as I want to be rested to start my Kili climb on Friday, so we decided to hike during the day. We arrived at St Katherine’s monastery at the base of Sinai at 10AM. We toured the monastery, which still houses 22 Greek Orthodox monks, for about 45 minutes. We saw the burning bush – which is said to be from the same stock as THE burning bush. It’s the only plant of its type on the Sinai Peninsula and is always green, regardless of being deep in the desert. It was a humbling experience for me to see all of the many different types of people from all around the world brought together by their faith. Lynn actually reached up and pricked her finger on the bush…we’re trying to determine if that means she’s going to become immortal or is just a klutz. We still haven’t decided.

We entered the monastery museum and were immediately befriended by a crazy Greek monk. There is no photography in the museum, but he followed us around taking our pictures with our cameras. He seemed to want to show us everything as a personal tour and talk all about the places he’d been in the US. It would have been creepy…but come on, he’s a monk. So we laughed it off and said our goodbyes to the crazy Greek man.

Our driver had hired us a guide – a 28 year old Bedouin man, who looked about 50- to lead us up the mountain. It’s not an easy life that they lead – living in the desert, which I’m convinced is the harshest climate on earth, and making very little money to support huge families (the Bedouins that we’ve spoken to have mentioned families up to 30 children). It’s also Ramadan, which means no eating or drinking of any sort during the day…and we’d decided to climb 6000+ vertical feet in the heat of the day…in the desert.

The climb was spectacular. The landscape is so foreign to me: sharp, craggy, red mountains rising out of the yellow sand. Layers upon layer of mountains make up the horizon and disappear into the haze of the hot desert. I took a million pictures, but as with most truly amazing experiences, the feelings and exact view/lighting does not translate.

We hiked on the camel path for about 2 hours and reached the final 750 steps (said to be prescribed to be built as a punishment for…one of the saints I think? Gabe – you’ll have to fill me in on the exact biblical significance when I get back. J ) We reached the top and were literally the only three people as far as the eye could see. We’ve been very lucky on this trip to avoid the crowds at these typically touristy places. We sat in silence on the top of the mountain, off in our own worlds, listening to Salama (or guide) pray in the mosque behind us. I think Lynn and I both felt that we’d not only conquered a mountain, but we really were part of something bigger than ourselves that was allowing us the amazing good fortune to have that particular experience. Even for me, it’s hard not to get spiritual and philosophical about one of the most important places in almost all of the original organized religions. Needless to say, there were some silent prayers of thanks to The Big Guy from me.

We hiked down the 750 steps and decided to take the camel path (instead of the 3,000 steps of the alternate route) down. Our guide was literally falling asleep while walking. I kept trying to convince him to stop or take a drink of water, but he assured us he was ok. Lynn and I kept up a brisk clip in front of him as he was an accident waiting to happen and neither of us wanted to see it in progress. It was probably a very poor decision for him to not have eaten (certain professions can have a ‘free pass’ during Ramadan if they absolutely must have food/water during the daylight hours, and he was in one of the professions). When we reached the car, I told our driver, Ehab, about the experience and he said – ‘Don’t feel bad. We CHOOSE this.’ Yet another example of the amazing faith and strength many Muslim people exhibit. I’ve come to have the utmost respect this religion and the people that follow it, even though it previously has been incredibly foreign to me.

Ehab drove us back to Sharm (2.5 hours) and spoke to us about Islam and its tenets, his family, life in Dahab, and a multitude of other topics almost the entire way. Exhausted, Lynn and I ate an early dinner and fell into bed…to awake this morning to spend our last day in Sharm lying by the pool.

We’ll head to Cairo tomorrow (hopefully – business hours here are a complete cluster, so we’ve not been able to book tickets yet) and I leave at 3:30 AM on Thursday for Arusha. I’m excited for the next leg of my journey but will dearly miss my travel buddy. Couldn’t have worked out better for us I don’t think…we’re both so grateful for the amazing two weeks we’ve had together! We’re already planning our next adventure.

The next time I write I’ll be in Tanzania. There are some exciting things in the works for me there that I can’t wait to write about…I don’t want to jinx myself by writing about them yet, but I am again (as I often am on the trips that I take) humbled and thankful for the kindness of complete strangers.

Hope you all are doing well. Keep sending me updates – I love to hear about all of the fun I’m missing!

Cheers!
~G