We arrived the week before the race. I was told by several friends who had previously raced Kona to come the week prior to acclimate to the weather & humidity. If I still lived in Florida, I probably wouldn't have done this same plan- being that the climates (and humidity for that matter) between Hawaii & Florida are so similar. However, having spent the past year & a half living in Canada, I am starting to feel my 'skin' acclimating to this um.... great white north ;) So a week early we went.. and WOW! I forgot what humidity really really feels like. It was an adjustment.. but as the week went on, I started to feel the southern girl peel off her tundra skin and really feel the hawaiian weather. Before we knew it, it was Saturday morning at 4:15am.. and the alarm was going off for what would be a LONG LONG day, before I would return to this bed.
The Swim:
Everything you have ever heard or assumed about the Kona swim is true. The areal video of the cannon going off and chaos beginning.. is exactly how it feels! Flash back to this summer's Swim Trek in the Greek Islands, and our coach Dan's now famous quote... 'Long periods of calm, followed by extreme moments of chaos'. This is the only way to describe it!
I put myself amongst a pack of swimmers (remember, everybody in Kona got here for a reason- they are fast... and a good majority of the swimmers are fast) and just prior to the cannon blasting there was a massive amount of pushing forwards and backwards all around me- think mosh-pit at a concert. But before we knew it, the helicopter was making its last low pass, Mike Reilly was yelling 'You earned your right to be here, I will see you at the finish line!' and BOOM! The cannon fires & scares the crap out of all of us!
CHAOS CHAOS CHAOS begins! White water everywhere, bubbles, kicked in the face, elbowed in the cheek, scratching at my legs.. you name it. I was surrounded by dudes taking no mercy.. fine- you want to play that game? Time to get run over. I was immediately flashing back to our running of the bulls experience- be angry, 'bows up' and start shoving people around you, or you will get knocked down! At about the half way point I finally felt like I wasn't swimming breastroke. It was bedlam for the first half. I never got a point to stretch out my stroke due to the sheer amount of people ALL around me. By 3/4ths of the swim, I was finally able to get out in a small pack of guys who weren't thrashers and aim for the beach. As we got closer the excitement starts to build. You can literally hear the crowds waiting for you, screaming for you to come back.... AWESOME. I felt the beach, ascended the crooked steps to transition, made it to my bag, changed, and then to the bike.
The bike:
Riding through downtown Kona is such a rush. There are people EVERYWHERE along the course, at the turn around, along the streets, cow bells clanging, signs held high, intense screaming... so cool. We made our way through the town, then back north heading up for the long ascend to Hawi. I was told about the crosswinds. They are legendary. There is a reason everybody talks about them, and I got a chance to be humbled by them the week leading up to the race.
A few days before I went up to check out just how bad these crosswinds were. They were so bad I was blown across the double yellow divider, and after a second scare (at 40mph gusts) unclipped and put the bike in the rental car. I was so mentally defeated, and scared that I came all this way & an element was going to potentially stand between me & finishing this race. But... this is Kona. This is why this race is here, this is what Ironman is all about. Testing your limits to make sure that only the really worthy will have what it takes to cross the line. I went back and talked to a bunch of people, read up on the winds, and was told over and over again to RELAX, as backwards as that sounds, and let the bike move and sway, and just lean into it. Boy did that ever work! Luckily the crosswinds weren't as bad on race day as they were the day I went out there. The head wind was still severe coming up to Hawi, but I was the most terrified of the crosswinds. I leaned as much as I could, and relaxed as much as humanly possible, and was smiling as a I came down the final hill from the turn-off at Waikoloa, because I knew I had come through the nastiest part of the crosswinds. I knew that I was one more challenge complete to crossing the finish line on Ali'i drive! The rest of the bike had its share of extreme heat & headwinds, but the biggest challenge I faced coming back was the mounting pressure to use the restroom. My stomach was churning and cramping & things were happening that alerted me to something 'not right' brewing. I kept telling myself I could take all the time I needed in transition, and suffered through the last 20 miles to make it back into town.
*Please note- skip 'The Run' if you do not like reading about bathroom & female related topics. You have been warned!!
The Run:
I spent my time in transition, between changing, and enjoying myself in the sauna of a portalette (not really, but hey- have to find humor somewhere) and was greeted by not only the evacuation of my bowels, but mother nature herself. Yippie! In truth, I knew she was suppose to strike at some point during the week we were in Kona.. all the signs were there- but I was hoping against hope she would hold off just one more day.... come on- it wouldn't be an Ironman, & it certainly wouldn't be Kona if you weren't tested in every manner possible! So I planned for the worst, and luckily had packed provisions in each of my transition bags. So a lazy transition later, I was out on the run course, cramps and all!! The pavement was a blistering 135F, oh yes... just get out the steaks cause its time to grill baby!! The first 10 miles of the run are in town, in an out and back manner, followed by a 16 mile gut session in no-mans land to the energy lab- which Simon affectionately called the 'energy sucking lab' (he ran out there and back a few days prior and said it was every bit the run he expected- lava hot, painful, no shade, and no mercy!)
So on my out part on Ali'i drive all felt smooth until about mile 5, when my bowels effectively launched 'Operation Evac NOW!' so I sprinted to the aid-station portalette... occupied. Dammit. I banged on the door impatiently that I needed to go, to which the person inside yelled 'Im busy!' ok... 2 minutes later, I decided to try my luck at the next aid station, (the turn around) on the way I came across a little boy holding a poster.. this poster would be the inspiration for the rest of my run, it had but three words: Embrace the Suck. You got that right kid!
Turn around potalette was occupied. Turn around and go back to previous aid station (where there was a portalette) SUCCESS!!! Spend time in the sauna. Come out thinking someone turned down the temperature... nope, 3 minutes later it is still hot.
As I continued again through mile 7, I started to realize I was still needing to go, AGAIN. Oh yes, this would continue for the remainder of the race! Now you might be thinking there is no way a person can produce a #2 for the remainder of the aid stations, but I assure you- one can, if they have spent the week leading up to the race eating enough fresh Papaya, Pinapple, Cantalope, and Honeydew to feed a small country.... oh yes, did you know Papaya alleviates constipation? I do now :)
I passed Simon and my parents at Mile 10, still attempting to run, but knowing my pace had fallen off the wagon. As I neared where they were, I started thinking about bailing on the run- but quickly had my first 'come to jesus' meeting with myself. 'Wait a minute, LOOK AROUND YOU! Do you know where you are?!?!' Yes, you do. Keep going. Ok. I passed them and smiled/ waved, and figured I should just enjoy this. I am not going to do a best time, Im going to have to start walking soon, but at least make it past them! So I jogged past them, up the hill on Palani, and turned onto the Queen K. Ahhh no mans land... This. is. going. to. suck. As I turned onto the Queen K, the pressure from running was putting too much on my bowels and intensifying the sensation to 'go' that I had to slow to a walk. I was now doing my best as$ shaking, side to side, old lady power walk- and laughing at myself.. where is NBC when you need them- this is one of those moments in life. I knew Simon would be tracking me on the iPad, and would see the pace fall way off. I couldn't wait to get back and tell them I got the 'sh#ts'. I was constantly pouring water on myself in shower format and praying I didn't have anything on myself... that'll look nice for the kids on NBC.
Another 4 miles goes by. Now I am WAAAAY out in the middle of no where, just me and lava. Guys are stopping off to the sides and puking. Pros are walking. The sh$t appeared to be hitting the fan all over. I had another 4ish miles before I even reached the turn around. Motivation, energy, and legs were starting to get the best of me. I institute 'come to jesus' meeting #2 with myself, and looked around at where I was. If it took me until midnight, I was going to finish this race. It meant that much to me. Not the place, or the time.. but crossing that line, surpassing my own expectations on this day, and playing the hand I got dealt. Energy lab... yeah, Simon was right. Nothing glamourous. Special needs, WAHOO!! I filled up, and started taking every cup handed to me at the aid station. Water, coke, powerade, pretzel, banana- which almost made me yack thinking about another piece of fruit... but I tried to draw as much energy off the aid station volunteers as I could. They really, truly made the run for me. If it hadn't been for their energy at EVERY single aid station, screaming, encouraging, dumping water on my head- I dont think I could have continued (and god bless the portalettes!!). I continued my inspection of each portalette at each aid station (btw they were NOT next to the race course- but rather down a side street about 100 yards, wtf!) and continued on my way back towards Kona. My watch had gotten wacked during the swim, which subsequently stopped the timer, so I had no idea where I was time wise- nor did I care, but I did know what time it was... and all I cared about calculating was how much time I had until midnight- the official cut off. (Yes, I know I could have done the math based on what time I started and figured out where I was, but my thoughts were on finishing within time, not on what time I would go). Slowly but surely the miles ticked away, and I made my way back to Kona. Tons of people passed me, and it hurt to not be able to go after them... but 'live to fight another day' I always say... so I had to let each and every one of them go... but I knew we were going to the same place, and I knew as I got back to the turn on Palani, that I was going to do this...
The Finish:
I was going to cross the finish line. The same finish line I saw Dan & Rick Hoyt cross. The same finish line I saw in the gatorade commercial with Chris Legh, where he collapsed with 50 meters to go. I was going to CROSS this finish line. I was going to enjoy it. Pain and all.
I rallied something deep inside me to run the last 3k through town to the finish line. Simon met me with about 2k to go and ran with me (faster than me mind you- in flip flops) until I turned & he cut through to the finish line. The screaming started again, the streets were lined with people, as they had been earlier. It was just like the Tour de France- they were so close, only parting ways for you to pass just as you neared them. At 1k to go, a guy yelled 'enjoy the next 5 minutes, they will be the best 5 minutes of your life!'
It was incredible. It only got louder, the people only got thicker on the sides of the streets, and ahead I could see the lights, hear Mike Reilly, and see the carpet. Feel the carpet. Pass the Ford. Flags along the sides of the barriers. Enter the spot lights. Final ramp up to the finish. Oh. my. god!!!!
'Jennifer Vaillancourt of Toronto Canada, by way of the United States, You are an Ironman!!!!'
Everything I ever thought it would be, it was- and then some. Pain, tears, completely humbling elation, surpassing my wildest expectations.
Dear suck, Embrace THIS! :)
After September of this year, all the 
I guess for me it came down to this: First or last, fast or slow, I am doing something that not many people can physically do. There are people that for whatever medical reason cannot, even if they wanted to, go out and do a marathon. For that reason- there is absolutely no reason for me to quit a race, ever. Even if I walk across the finish line, even if I add copious amounts of time to my PR, at this point in my life the pressure to perform at a certain level- retired with my collegiate life. I do this, because I can- for those that cant.
Failing at organizing the group photo... 