A stroll in my Tri-Suit

          I woke up this morning with a mix of emotions. For on the birth of this week, Sunday, the 14th of October in the year 2014, I, Kenneth de la Flor, completed a 70.3 IronMan. This feat took me to the edge of my wits and back. It was no simple task, I wasn’t in it to compete, nor was I trying to out perform a single person (although it felt nice passing people). My goal was simple, “finish it and don’t give up.” Little did I know that statement that I repeated in my head would be the most welcomed broken record in my life, it’s one of my life’s motto's,  and ultimately it would be my  purpose. My heart was heavy going into the race. I was scared of not finishing, curious of what was to come, and excited to feel the medal around my neck.

         So it began, I was in the dark water of Biscayne Bay surrounded by athletes and first timers alike, not to mention an unknown number of jellyfish. The air-horn goes off, I start, and instantly I panic. This was a place I've never been before, in a sport I’ve never competed in, and facing one of the greatest phobias in my entire life, dark water. Not the ideal situation to be in during a competition but I kept on and terrifyingly kept thinking, “Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming” just like the Nemo movies (thanks Sandy) to keep me calm. I struggled to remember, keep calm, keep form, keep kicking, and make sure you are gliding (thanks Kelly). Each red buoy I passed (three in total) were for each one of my brothers and how I know they would be right beside me cheering me on no matter how afraid I was. Meanwhile all around me, people were getting picked up left and right, from what I can only assume,  was near drowning. I couldn’t go down like that. So, after grazing Jellyfish, bumping into racers, and drinking about a gallon of salt water, I ultimately finished the swim a little over an hour (a horrible time I may add). As I ran pass my parents to the transition area, I couldn’t believe I overcame my still very real phobia or even finish the swim, but now I knew, I couldn’t slow down.

         Once on the bike, my next thought was to catch up the 5 friends ahead of me. So I began my 56 mile trek with the hardest part behind me, and an open road in front. This road was long and seemed as though it was never ending. My side was hurting a bit and my lower back was asking me why I didn’t stretch it more, but I couldn’t stop. I began passing racers left and right (talk about a morale booster), some older, younger, fit, bulky, some with new professional equipment, and others with second hand equipment like myself. Each water station I raced pass, I grabbed a bottle from the volunteer and enjoyed a nice shower as they cheered and shot ice cold water on top of the racers. As people cheered while driving by, I couldn’t help but to remember the song my oldest brother (Victor) told me to think about. I don’t know how it goes, but it starts with “EVVVVERYONES watchin’, dun dun dun dun dunnnnnn” (literally what I said over and over again) and I found myself having more fun than I thought. It was only until mile 43 that my right knee began bothering me, not to mention the seat digging into... well you know where (yeah, ouch) and I felt my body starting to shut itself down. I realized I wasn’t getting the nutrition I needed but the bike finish line was just 10 miles away, so I pressed on. I eventually caught up to 2 of my friends and with racers blocking the way, curious on lookers honking, and spectators disregarding the boundaries of the race I made it to the end of the bike portion and as I sat in my area to get set up to for the run I felt what most athletes call, “hitting the wall” and felt numb.

           I realized I gave so much to the bike to catch up, I didn’t portion my energy like I should have. Now, the run portion was composed of 2, 6.55 mile laps and included zig zags through Biscayne Ave, the arena, Port of Miami bridge, Jungle Island, but worst of all, it required you to run next to the finish line to begin the 2nd lap. But let me digress to the first lap or what I called, “hell on earth.” Going into my first lap, my body was depleted, my legs were jello, and my spirit was beginning to feel broken. It was at this moment that I felt something I’ve never felt before, I wanted to quit. No matter what I said, or what I looked back on, my body wasn’t responding and the ominous thought was becoming a very real outcome. I was thinking of what to say to my parents, family, and friends as I contemplated saying mercy as I began hearing the fat lady sing, and there was nothing that I said to myself that helped change that feeling. Until the first water station, I stopped and hunched over barely gripping my knees and felt a rush of cold water as a volunteer dumped some all over me. Although it meant nothing to her, she said, “C’mon you got this! You won’t know how it feels to pass the finish line until you do it!” She gave me protein bars and Gatorade and sent me on my way. From that moment, I kept that in my mind and at every water station, I threw ice cold water on myself, ate protein bars, and drank Gatorade to get my energy back up. All of this paid off by the second lap. I hit my stride and even though my feet felt numb, my body had nothing left to sweat, and my knee was in pain with every step, each step was one closer to the finish.

          There was no feeling greater than knowing the finish line was so close. I looked behind me and took a moment to remember everything I went through before this moment. Seeing those that couldn’t finish, getting picked up by ambulances as they dropped like flies, all the hours I spent drenched in sweat, the day I signed up, and all the people that were cheering me. All these thoughts and visions replayed in my mind for the last about 2 miles until at the .1 mark, when my friend Mark (that finished before me) screamed, “C’mon Kenny, way to keep it up, keep going!” And I started running full speed for the finish line. I heard the people cheering and screaming my name to keep it going and for that last .1 mile I gave everything I had left until that moment I passed the finish line and my friends and I were able to call ourselves, IronMen.

Food for thought. Expand your mental pallet.

           This was my story and even though I shared some things with you some memories I leave for myself. To the 3000 that began the race to the 2000+ that finished it, I stood beside all of you and I knew your struggle. It was a test of your mind, body, and soul. Before some of you readers disregard this as small, or not significant of such dramatic portrayal, I will take your opinion when you go through the same thing. When you wake up in the middle of the night to run a ten miles, when you spend your Sunday doing sprints instead of drinking mimosa’s, or when your new to a city and instead of hanging out with new friends, you stay in to get more sleep. Remember the time when you challenged yourself to do something great? How did you feel? Where did you fail? When will you do it again? Who will you challenge to become great? You see, how we see ourselves is the most important thing in the world, because how we see ourselves governs what we will become. So take a look in the mirror and be honest...what do you see?