IM AZ race report: Pregame

This is going to be long and painful, so grab a brew and strap on your safety belts.

I had a good weekend. I hope you did too. Instead of starting at just the race, I'm going to start with my arrival and end with my departure. Awesome. AND, in honor of the 41% of the field in Tempe attempting their very first ironman, I'm going to throw out some first timer tips to anyone who has their sights on the iron distance. You know, for fun.

I got to Tempe on Friday around lunchtime after wisely using my flight to download all my workouts from my watch to my puter. K was waiting for me at the rental car place, where I was offered a Mustang convertible for the same price as my blah standard size. What kind of luck is that? The one time I could get a non-crappy car and I have to shove a stupid bike in the back seat. What would be better than a convertible for a road trip after my race? Turns out I was glad not to have it as we hit some snow on Monday, but more on that later.

Anyway, K and I went straight to registration. The USAT folks somehow forgot to bring an updated database of members, so they made anyone who'd forgotten their USAT card buy a one-day pass-- the boat I was in since my new USAT card hasn't come yet, 4 weeks after I renewed it. USAT is great...on top of things and organized the way a governing body should be. While in line a dude behind me was asked about IM WI since he was wearing a finishers hat. And a finishers shirt. At the same time. While registering for another IM. He confirmed he'd done it (really? Are you sure?) and started grilling the question-asker about his IM credentials. I rolled my eyes. Well, apparently IMWI guy had forgotten his USAT card as well, and he loudly asked the USAT chick "Is this going to be a problem later in the season? Because I'm ALSO doing Ironman Louisville." Actually, it wasn't a question; it was more of a blatant declaration of his superiority. I'd have kicked him in the junk had there been anything worth injuring.

Anyway, after that I got weighed and received my packet from a nice volunteer who asked me if I was a pro ("Do I look like a pro?" "You'd be surprised!"). All was well. In fact, we got an event t-shirt and the Ford IM black drawstring bag right there instead of at the finish. Instead of a huge "FORD" on the bag it actually has an Ironman logo--finally! A huge improvement. Of course, with the bag given to us at registration, we had to hold all our crap at the finish line instead of having it tossed in the bag. But no biggie.

Is there anything more exciting than an empty transition area?

First timer registration hints: Don't forget your USAT card. Women, don't wear heavy clothes if you're going to get depressed you weigh so much more than you do naked. And finally, don't be that A-hole in the registration line. Believe me, no one is actually impressed.

K and I cruised the expo (which was sadly skimpy on samples with GU and Clif not there. It was even worse than Wisconsin without my favorite two booths), I picked up my bike, and we were off. We grabbed some lunch and drove the bike course, then checked into our hotels. In no time it was off to the pasta dinner, where my new HRTC friend Mitch flagged us down to some sweet seats. Dinner was mostly uneventful except I met someone I may have felt an unnaturally strong desire to beat on Sunday. Let's call her Darlene.

Darlene works professionally instructing two of the three tri disciplines, and she's younger than me. She's bubbly and puts on makeup. Obviously not my type of galpal. Anyway, I didn'tlike how she grilled me about last year, which was probably just my projecting my bike performance insecurity onto her innocent questions. But still. I decided I wanted to beat her to the run, where I felt I could give her a good whomping.

After dinner I headed back to the hotel, talked Craig's ear off, and hitthe sack around 10 local time. I was pooped.

Saturday. Woke up at 6, ran 10 minutes. Rode 20 minutes. Swam 20 minutes, dropped off my bike and my transition bags. Picked up a tired and grumpy Craig at the airport. We whiled away the afternoon after he napped and I rested, then hit dinner with a big group of Houstonians. It took forever, and I ended up getting two whole glasses of wine with my pizza dinner (I'm just not a pasta girl. Sorry). After unbelievable drama with the bill, we went back to the room and prepared for race day, and got to bed before 9. Unlike most racers I can sleep normally the night before a race, and I take advantage.