Fast forward 10 years. In 2003 I was a chronically injured, has been runner spending as much time in the pool and on the bike (cross training) as I was running. Some running buddies had decided to enter Coeur D'Alene the following summer. The memory of the trauma of Vineman had softened enough for me to allow myself to be talked into joining them. Older and wiser, this time I found a coach - the best in the business IMHO - Mark Allen. In 2004 I raced my first ironman.
What follows is the report I wrote after this experience....
Race report:
In the days leading up to race day I felt surprisingly calm and relaxed. Even as the town of CDA swelled in size with the arrival of 2000 triathletes and their friends/family. Even as the pent up nervous energies of many of these athletes began to feed on each other and become a "thing" bigger than the sum of its parts. With a quiet detachment I walked through the IM decked streets of CDA and hung out in Athlete's Village listening to IM veterans and IM virgins tell tales of training and racing adventures and debate philosophy and methodology. I stayed calm through the check-in process while my ID was checked and double checked, while my timing chip and many numbers were given to me (5 for gear bags, 3 for the bike, 1 for bike helmet and 2 to wear on my body), while my official wristband was permanently affixed, while my bike was inspected and racked in the transition area and while I dropped off my transition gear bags. I was still feeling tranquil race morning while I filled my fluid bottles and packed my "special needs" bags with supplies I might want midway through the bike and run courses.
45 minutes before the start everything was set. I pulled on my wetsuit and joined the flow of athletes walking to the beach. We had to access the beach through a narrow archway at which point we crossed our first Champion Chip mat of the day. With the screeching noise of our Chips being scanned, recording us all as official starters in IMCDA, the first butterflies began to dance in my belly. We were given 15 minutes to warm up in the water. I got my first taste of exactly how intense a mass swim start would be. The butterflies began to dance harder. At 6:45 we were all called back to the beach. The pros were to start in the water, the rest of would run in from the beach. As the final 15 minutes ticked down my butterflies went into their final frenzied twisting and writhing. When the cannon went off the butterflies froze and were still.
All the "I love you, man" and "good luck out there" sentiment shattered with the cannon blast. 2000 triathletes let loose their pent up energy onto the water and onto each other and the aquabrawl began. I was clawed, I was kicked, I was pulled back and pushed under, I was pummeled by feet, fists and elbows. I had my goggles knocked off twice, the collar of my wetsuit ripped open and my timing chip nearly yanked off my ankle. In the midst of this chaos my sense of calm detachment returned. I felt like my mind had separated itself from my body and was somewhat amused by what it saw happening to my body in the water. In this state I was able to actually enjoy the swim in a sick sort of a way. I never panicked or got angry or upset about the beating I was taking in the water. It was just the way it was and I just kept swimming.
Before I knew it the swim was over and I was running (staggering) up the beach towards T1. I had started my watch but was oblivious to time at this point. A funnel of volunteers steered us into T1. Once there we lay on the ground whilst "strippers" peeled our wetsuits off. More volunteers had our gear bags ready and handed them off to us then guided us into the changing tent. In the changing tent each athlete had a volunteer to assist with switching from swim stuff to cycling stuff and handing us water and gatorade. Outside the tent more volunteers were waiting to apply sunscreen to us and to give us more water and gatorade while steering us toward our bikes. Another human funnel led us out onto
the bike course and across the "mount/dismount" line.
I had a bit of a scare that began in T1. As I ran my bike to the mount line my left quad was seized in a cramp such that I could hardly run. I expected it to pass when I got on the bike. It didn't. Instead the right quad cramped as well. A few minutes later my right glute cramped, followed shortly by both hip flexors. I could barely spin the pedals. What the f...? I had to laugh at the possibility that it would all end before the first mile on the bike course. Then I vowed to keep spinning the pedals until I couldn't. The bike would have to topple from lack of forward motion before I would quit. With calm determination I forced my cramping legs to keep spinning without giving any thought to what lay ahead, just keep them spinning right now. Slowly the cramps began to dissolve away. By mile 10 the last little twinge subsided and I never cramped again. There was a good side to the cramps, they ensured a conservative start to a very long bike ride.
The bike course was two 56 mile loops over a variety of terrain. We rode through town and out onto a lakeside out and back section which featured one hill in the middle so we could admire it from both sides. Then we went through town again on our way to the meat of the course, a 42 mile loop through surrounding coutryside and the neighboring community of Post Falls, WA. This section had some really hilly stretches and some "put your head down and hammer" flat stretches but was mostly moderately undulating. Wind was a factor but never seemed straight at us nor directly behind us. The course was fairly technical with lots of turns and some twisting, steep descents. I focused on keeping my HR between 125-140 and did what I had to with gearing and cadence to keep it there. My computer was giving me speed but my mind never registered the numbers being displayed there. Tons of people passed me on the first loop of the course. I stayed focused on my effort and on my position (got to stay legal!). The miles flew by. In a flash I was pedaling through town for the third time, heading out for the start of the second 56 miles. Far fewer people were passing me, I was beginning to pass a bit more often.
My nutrition plan had been for about 400 cal/hr on the bike. I was going to eat every half hour and drink on 15 min intervals. My "food" was going to start complex and evolve to simple as the day wore on. I stuck to my plan for about 2 hours, then I found I couldn't eat nearly as much as I'd hoped. I leaned more and more heavily on my electrolyte replacement drink for fuel. The stuff I was using has a little protein in it and it stepped up to the plate nicely. My total food/drink consumption on the bike was a PB and banana sandwich that I ate in the first miles while spinning out the leg cramps, 3 cans of Ensure, 1 Payday bar, ~4 bike bottles of Accelerade, 1 small can of V8 juice from my special needs at 63 miles, and about 2 bottles of Gatorade (from the aid stations). I had no energy problems. In fact I negative split the bike despite warmer, windier conditions for the second loop.
I rode into T2 as high as a kite. The bike had gone by quickly and relatively easily and I was feeling strong. A funnel of volunteers guided me into T2. Someone took my bike and handed me my gear bag. I was guided into the change tent and again we each had a volunteer to help us and look after us in there. More volunteers outside to steer us onto the run course, slather us with sunscreen and offer drink.
My legs didn't feel too bad. No snap, no speed, but turning over. I glanced at my watch for the first time that day, just to take note of how long the first mile took. That's when I noticed I had ~5 hours to run the marathon and finish under 13 hours...my prerace time goal. I could do it, no problem. This I knew at mile 1 of the marathon. That first mile took a little over 10 minutes. I couldn't run any faster. But neither was I going to walk or slow down. That would be enough. So I just kept running, kept clicking off steady 10 min miles. I slowed a bit at each aid station, every mile, to get a cup or two but I didn't walk a step. I watched countless others around me coming undone...stopping, walking, wilting in the afternoon heat (around 90 degrees). I kept my feet turning over like a metronome. Relentless forward motion was my mantra. The miles passed without being counted but by planning my menu at the next aid station. Accelerade or Gatorade? Coke or water? One of each? I ate 2 Powergels, one at the end of each out on the double out and back course, and drank another small can of V8 at ~mile 14.
With each passing mile I passed more and more failing bodies. I passed over 400 people on the run, a quarter of the finishing field. The double out and back course gave me a chance to see Steve, Diana, and Linda. They looked good when I saw them which gave me a mental boost. I was blissfully unaware of the problems they were dealing with. I missed seeing the other Mad Cows even though we probably passed each other coming or going.
Again, before I knew it, before I ever got to wondering when it was going to end, I was running into town for the last time, being directed to turn onto Sherman Ave. towards the finish line 8 blocks away. Sherman Ave. was lined with screaming spectators and 8 downhill blocks away I could see the finish line and the huge archway with the Ironman logo on it. A smile spread across my face and throughout my being. I had arrived. I savored every step of that homestretch grinning like a fool, high fiving
adults and low fiving little kids. Every finisher gets to break the tape. I broke the tape with my arms raised to the sky and a sh#teating smile on my orange Gatorade covered face while the announcer - that you've all heard if you've watched IM Hawaii on TV - bellowed "You are an Ironman!"
Every finisher gets two volunteer "catchers" at the finish line who help us through the chutes, getting our shirt and medal, returning the timing chip, assessing need for medical aid, fetching food and drink if we want it, staying with us for 10-15 minutes after finishing. The volunteer effort behind this event was mind blowing. I have never been so well cared for and pampered in any race I've done before.
My goals going into the race were, in order of importance...
1. To finish - accomplished
2. To finish on my feet and smiling - accomplished
3. To bypass the medical tent at the finish - accomplished
4. To finish while it was still light out - accomplished
5. To finish under 13 hours - accomplished
6. To feel well enough after finishing to stay to watch the last finisher at midnight - accomplished
Anything else would be icing. Now for the icing...Finished in 12:28, was 5th in my division and earned a spot on the podium and a slot to the Ironman World Championships in Kona this Oct. Lady luck (or was it the devil?) was smiling on me during the rolldown. Yup, I'm going to do it again in a little over 3 months.
How could I turn down an invitation to the Big Dance?
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