On Sunday 9 September 2013 I did my second Ironman. It was a bittersweet race in that I set a new PR, but I completely missed my goal time(s). The (much briefer than last year's) write-up follows.
Training
Last year I had to deal with a stress fracture that interrupted my training at nearly the worst possible time. This year I had no such issues and felt my training was strong and well timed. I peaked my run training somewhat early and managed to run a Boston Qualifying time (3:14:47) at the Minneapolis Marathon in early June. I then backed off the running, moving into maintenance mode, and focused on the cycling. As you'll see below, I may have pushed the cycling a bit too much and was actually over-trained. I was feeling strong and powerful in July and early August, charging up hills at Strava KOM paces, but couldn't find that strength and power on race day. My swimming didn't get any special attention, other than the fact that I was training in a different lake (Lake Harriet in the Twin Cities) that allowed me to do full 2.4 mile swims much easier (just three laps between the north and south beaches as opposed to the five in Cedar Lake from last year).
Goals
Given my training, I established the following goals:
Base: go faster than last year and still finish feeling happy and hopefully better than last year
Main: go sub-11:00, even if it's a 10:59:59
Stretch: go 10:30
I was hoping for an hour or faster on the swim. I really think I can do a 5:30 on the hilly and technical Wisconsin bike course. And then I was dreaming of a 3:30 marathon. Through in 10 minutes for the two transitions and that's a 10:10! Even slowing the run by 15-20 minutes and giving myself the same cushion on the run put me sub-11:00. I think I was being objective, rather than cocky, in thinking about these times. I'd done the best run of my life in the Minneapolis marathon, had put in some great long distance rides on the bike, and had two non-pushing-it full distance swims that were faster than my Ironman times the year before. So, I was going into the race feeling pretty good about my prospects.
Ironman Weekend
2013 was much like 2012 in that I headed down on Friday morning, got myself checked-in ("bagged and tagged!"), and then relaxed at my in-laws where my family and extended family eventually joined me. Saturday was packing gear bags and then turning them and the bike in. Saturday evening was fun, with lots of family, but also easy and quiet. I ate well and was in bed by 20:00 and likely sleeping by just after 21:00.
Race Morning
I was up at 04:30 using the bathroom, getting into my tri kit, applying Body Glide, getting in some calories, triple checking all my swim gear, and generally getting myself set. We started the 15 minute drive into Madison and parked in the same ramp as last year. It felt much more crowded than last year and we had to park right at the top of the ramp to find an open spot. I checked on my bike and put in my water bottles with concentrated carb mix, got body marked, and managed to find Rebecca again. We hung out together a bit and then I needed to use the porta potty. I was in line behind a group of people that turned out to be with a woman who was going to be pulled in a boat, towed behind a bike, and pushed in a wheelchair for the race and she needed the whole entourage to help her get into the porta potty and handle her business. It took longer than I had anticipated, or wanted, but I was more than happy to wait.
When I was done Rebecca and I made our way down to the swim start where I put on my wetsuit and applied final BodyGlide. After some words of encouragement and some smooching I was off into the crowds. As we were being shuttled like cattle toward the water, I realized I didn't know how to use my fancy new Garmin 910xt watch! I knew it was possible, but couldn't figure out how to get it in "Triathlon" mode so all I had to do was hit the Lap button and it would automatically start the swim, bounce to T1, bike, T2, and run. I wound up asking a fellow athlete who was wearing the same watch. I had my answer just as I was entering the water! I swam out directly to the start buoy, the same as last year, and immediately knew it was going to be a different day for the swim: the water was choppy to the point of small white caps! Cutting this section short, the swim was not at all what I was hoping for, going a 1:07:13.
My transition was decently fast and I was out on the bike, heading down the iconic parking ramp helix. Again, like last year, the bike started just fine, with me averaging about 20 mph at the first checkpoint at mile 19. Things slowed slightly from then on, with my last 30 miles at only a "pedestrian" 17.6 mph. I was so ready to get off the bike. I wound up with a 6:05:28 split and wasn't too happy.
My T2 was lickity-split fast, and I was very happy with it. I started the run feeling good and purposefully held myself back. I did a great job of that too, making it to mile 10 in 1:26, including a quick stop to pee around mile 3. However, the effects of the bike started to kick in starting then, lasting the next next 9 miles. I managed to rally and pick-up the pace, hoping to salvage the event and still finish strong. This sort of worked, for just over 4 miles, then the wheels fell off and I was just holding on until I could reach the finish. I wound up with a 4:08:39 marathon and a total finishing time of 11:29:39.
As mentioned, that was a new Ironman PR for me, but was slower than all my "real" goals, though it did qualify for my base goal of beating last years time.
or “The wheels on the bus fell right off, fell right off, fell right off …”
Here’s the story of my, to-date, worst Ironman. You can look at my Garmin data for all the sad, gory details too, if you’d like.
Swim
Official time: 1:05:45 (PR 1:03:58 in 2012)
Place: Division 31, Gender 198, Overall 254
The group I was with met at 0600 in the Terrace, just outside the T1 room. We started heading for the water around 0630. I was anxious about leaving that late as I knew, from previous experience, that it takes a long while to get out of the building, up the parking ramp, down the helix, and through the crowds and the choke-point that’s the swim in/out arch to actually get into the water. I was walking in front of my group and was almost a full “helix” loop ahead of them by the time I got to the bottom, but then waited for them. We then dropped of morning bags and I said my, “Good lucks,” and “Goodbyes,” and proceeded to push my way through the crowd. I felt a bit like a git as I know everyone was trying to get to the same place. However, it is true that some people were content to stand there until the whole mass of people moved. As a result, my feet didn’t touch the water until 06:52, for a 07:00 start.
IMWI is a deep water swim start. In years past, I’ve been in the water for at least 5 minutes by this point and usually am treading water out next to the start buoy, right at the front. This time, I had to swim my way, weaving and dodging other water-treaders and swimmers, to make my way to that point. When I finally got there and settled into a position to tread water, I just barely heard Mike Riley say there was just under 2 minutes to the start! I quickly got my goggles set, got my watch (Garmin 920xt) in Triathlon mode, and started to visualize my race. Before I knew it, however, the cannon went off! I heard no count down. Maybe I was just totally in the zone with my visualization. Regardless, I immediately put my hand to my watch, hit the lap button, and … realized I’d made a mistake. I’d been repeating in my head, all morning, to make sure I hit the lap button each time, coming out of the water, getting on the bike, etc. so the watch would automatically track each leg of the event. With the watch in the Triathlon profile, hitting the lap button invokes the dual-function “Back” option, and my watch went back to showing time of day. So, right there at the front of the swim pack, surrounded by 1:00 or faster swimmers, I was treading water, being hit in the head, swam over, kicked, jostled, etc. as I frantically got my watch back into Triathlon mode and then hit start. With that done, my head was down and I was swimming.
It took me a few strokes to both find my groove and some open water, but it happened much quicker than I remembered it happening in previous events. The entire first leg (IMWI is a single loop, counter-clockwise, rectangular course) was almost perfectly open and clear, with just one situation where a body “magically” appeared in front of me, diagonal, with the swimmer heading off, away from the buoy line, and I had to swim over them. The first turn was crowded, as usual, but I was pleased that I’d swum a beautifully straight line, right down the buoys, to that point. The second leg was fine as well, but a bit harder to sight as the sun, which was only maybe 10° above the horizon, was right in front of us. The second turn was also crowded, but fine. In both cases, my left arm brushed the turn buoys -- I was right there on the inside line.
The third leg is the longest, as we over-shoot the starting point and add distance. Sighting was a bit better, but now I was breathing and looking right at the sun. As a result, I closed my eyes as I breathed and just looked in the water and when I would occasionally sight. I’m lucky enough to have a decently straight swim, so I still managed to go right down the buoy line, again, having my left arm brush them once in awhile. Things were feeling good and I was really in a strong zone when I got absolutely clobbered on the head. It felt like the guy was swimming with a closed fist. He was on my left side and must have somehow come right alongside and his right hand clocked my head. I kept swimming and mentally shook it off, but then I was distracted again as I had some seaweed that seemed trapped on my face. I kept wiggling my lips and trying to shake it off when I realized it was my goggle straps!
I use regular old racing Speedo goggles, with the double strap up over the back of the head. When the guy hit me, he must have knocked both straps up and over my head. As I stopped and treaded water, my left eye piece popped off. I managed to catch the goggles, clear the water, reseat them, re-strap them over my head, and stole a glance at my watch, just to get a sense of my pace and I saw … 7:29, the time of day. In a fit of frustration, I quickly got the watch back into Triathlon mode, hit start, and then realized my mistake before, back at the start. On the 920xt, when you hit start from a Profile screen, it takes you to your default screen for that sport, but it doesn’t start the watch. You need to hit start again to actually get the timer to start. I did that, this time, so I finally had a running watch. You’ll see my GPS tracking on Garmin, Strava, MapMyRun, Endomondo, etc. starting way out in the water, more than halfway through the course.
That whole situation took less than a minute, I’m guessing, but it was enough to throw things off a bit. I got back to swimming and put in a bit of time trying to power my way to a slightly faster pace, hoping to “catch up” to where I’d be otherwise. That’s when the leg cramps started appearing. First in the right calf, then in the left. The cramp would be more like the ghost of a cramp, starting high in the calf, usually just on the outside, and then it would start “rolling” down my leg and would even “cross over” into my soleus. It was really quite interesting, had it not been happening during my Ironman swim. I actually started visualizing magnesium dipped frozen bananas in an attempt to think about electrolytes and shake the cramps off. These ghost cramps were just shy of “real” cramps. None of them ever really seized up the muscles, but the threat was real and they kept alternating between my right and left legs. I would only half kick, trying to flex my toes and stretch out the muscles. Eventually that all died down and I was back to swimming strong about 300-500 meters from the third turn.
Just as I came around that buoy, a major cramp set in on my right calf. When this happens, I keep “swimming,” but I completely stop using that leg, letting my foot flex upwards, toes pointing up towards my knees, to help stretch out the gastrocnemius and get the cramp out. Not at all effective for trying to swim fast. Just as I would clear the right leg, a cramp would form in the left leg. This happened, back and forth, several times until finally both legs were cramped. I was literally just pulling, not kicking at all, for almost the entire fourth leg, between turns 3 and 4, as I was stretching my legs as best I could. By the time I rounded the 4th turn buoy, heading in on the diagonal back to the swim in arch, the legs were finally OK. I managed to stay strong, and decently straight, into the finish.
Transition 1
Official time: 7:06 (PR 5:42 in 2013)
Since my watch was all sorts of messed up, I didn’t even glance at the time. Unfortunately, the swim timer was not actually facing out towards the lake, where the swimmers could see it, so I had no idea what my swim time was. I felt strong, but given the issues I had, I was assuming I’d swum ~1:07-1:10 and wasn’t too happy with myself. I did hit lap on the watch, though, as I crossed the pad, so that I’d have good timing on the transitions and the rest of the events. I managed to find a stripper crew (they help pull the wetsuits off you) right away, was stripped, and back on my feet running to the helix in no time. I managed to hold a decent running pace all the way up the helix, but could feel the heart rate creeping up into the “decently high” territory -- my Garmin data shows I hit 172, which is ~94% of my tested running maximum. Cresting the helix, I got a bit of rest heading down a bit of the ramp and into the Monona Terrace Convention Center. Down the hall, left turn into the transition bag room where there was a minor delay as a woman kept saying, “2562, right there” and was pointing at the 2582 bag. I kept saying, “No! 2562!” and she finally got out of my way so I could step backwards and grab my bag. Run to the other end of the room, right turn and headed into the “Get Naked” room.
My past experience at Ironman Wisconsin has been that there is incredible support in the transition areas, volunteers practically falling over each other to get to you so they can help. This time, at least in T1, not so much. There was nobody around. I grabbed the first chair that was open, dumped my stuff out of the transition bag, and started putting on my socks. As I was doing this, I realized that I wasn’t cold running up the helix. The morning was supposed to be cool, verging on cold, like 7°C for the previous night’s low, and only ~11°C for the first hour+ of the bike. I’d brought arm warmers and real gloves along, to keep warm, and had already put toe cups over my cycling shoes. I made a split-second decision that I didn’t need any of that and just shoved my rubberbanded-together nutrition into my tri top pockets, put on my helmet and sunglasses, then, after stuffing my cap, goggles, and wetsuit back into the bag, grabbed my shoes, and ran out of the room, down the hall, and outside. The sunscreen station was right there and I took the time to have them slather me up before running up the ramp and toward the bikes. I had the volunteer hold my bike while I quickly put on my shoes and then ran the bike to the Bike Out. It was at that point I saw a clock that indicated 1:12 had passed. Mentally I felt I had a decent transition, say 7 minutes, so I figured I’d managed a ~1:05 swim. Not a PR, but not too bad.
Bike
Official time: 6:02:19 (PR 5:57:43 in 2012)
Place: Division 51, Gender 320, Overall 352
There was a volunteer right at the mount line, at the top of the helix, reminding us all that there was no passing going down the helix. I wound up behind a very tentative woman who rode her brakes all the way down. When I finally got out onto John Nolen Drive, I settled in and started spinning the legs. I noticed two things right away: 1) my legs didn’t feel right, and 2) I was going too fast. I was easily cruising ~22-24 mph at the start and I purposefully slowed so that I was somewhere in the 19.5-20.5 range, just taking it easy. Regarding the legs, I wasn’t really sure what that was about, and have a hard time describing it now, but they just didn’t feel … right. I brushed it off as being in the race, the cramps I had while swimming, needing to get settled in on the bike more, etc. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brushed it off so quickly.
I’ll spare a lot of the details, but by mile 20, just starting the first loop the other side of Verona, I was feeling strong and was just 5 minutes shy of my 20 mph goal, at ~1:05 split time. I maintained that 5 minute deficit over the next 40 miles, crossing the mile 60 marker at 3:05. I was feeling (mostly) awesome at that point! I’d been spinning, not in the big ring, up all the hills, passing lots of people, and just coasting down the backsides, letting my legs stay rested. I’d ride my 20+ mph on the flats, but still nice and easy. Everything felt fine, … except my knees. I’d noticed them on the first “real” climb on the “stick” (the IMWI bike course is a lollipop, with a stick and two loops), but thought it might just be positioning. I continued to notice them on all subsequent climbs, sometimes more than others. There didn’t seem to be any correlation to effort, length of hill, my speed, etc., it was just a dull aching on the back side of the patella (knee cap). There’s a chronic condition called patellar chondromalacia where you repeatedly cause irritation, swelling, inflammation on the back of the patella, sometimes even grinding grooves into the bone. It’s very painful, or so I’ve read. I’ve never had issues with my knees in the 20+ years I’ve been racing bikes. I have no idea why I started noticing things now, but it was bothersome. Luckily, it was simply “noticing” my knees, and it wasn’t really painful.
That all changed, though, as things continued. I lost a full 5 minutes in the next 10 miles, crossing mile 70 at 3:40 and things continued to get worse from there. My knees were really bothering me on the second loop’s two big climbs. Perhaps as a result of that, I was adjusting my position, trying to find a way to not have that knee pain. This, I believe, caused pressure to shift to places I wasn’t used to feeling it. As a result, I started getting all sorts of body aches, back aches, foot aches, sit bone aches, that I have never really had to deal with in the past. It was amazing to me just how quickly everything seemed to unravel. By the time I crossed the 100 mile mark, I was SO ready to just get off my bike and throw it, in a rage, into a cornfield or something! I wanted to Get. Off. The. BIKE! That’s totally not me. I love cycling and have historically been a strong rider, though my Ironman times have never been what I feel they could be.
I was never so happy to find myself biking back up John Nolen Drive, heading back to the Terrace. I flew up the helix this time, passing several riders, spinning in my small gear. The moment the first micron of my tires touched the dismount line, I was off the bike!
Transition 2
Official time: 2:28 (new PR over 2:37 in 2013)
I ran in my biking shoes into the Terrace, down the hall, into the gear room, grabbed my bag, then zipped across the hall to the “Get Naked Room.” This time a volunteer was right there, as was a chair, right in the front. I sat right down and by the time I had my bike shoes off, my running shoes were on the floor, right at my feet. I slipped them on (gotta love speed laces!) and was able to take off my helmet and put it in the bag being held wide open by the volunteer. I put on my running cap and sunglasses, grabbed my race belt from the volunteer’s hand, and ran out of the room while securing the belt on my waist. A quick zig-zag out of the Terrace and I was back at the sunscreen station, where I paused to get another slathering. I’d stopped on the second loop of the bike at the aide station in Verona and had a quick pee, so I didn’t need to stop now. I ran up the parking ramp, turned left, and headed out of the Run Out arch to start the marathon.
Run
Official time: 5:18:30 (PR 4:08:39 in 2013)
Place: Division 103, Gender 618, Overall 742
Starting my run, I realized I felt good. I was very worried about my knees, but there was no pain at all in my running. My cadence was high and I was settling right in. I’d shifted my watch from sampling GPS every second to “Smart Sampling,” just to save battery and have no worries about it lasting the whole race. Well, … in Smart mode, your current and average paces take a while to settle in to what you’re actually running (I learned this the week before the race, doing some of our last intervals). As such, I really didn’t steal a glance at the watch until after the first aid station, just on the west side of the Capitol. I was running 7:55s. I purposefully eased back and tried to settle into that nice 8:00s pace that I wanted to run. I think things were going very well the first 4-5 miles, but then I noticed my HR was getting higher than it both should have been and where I wanted it, for that pace. There was a spot around mile 4 where my instantaneous pace was 9:15s and my HR was 150. In my training runs, even after an 18 miler, if I’m running 9:00+ pace, my HR is high 120s, maybe low 130s. I was 20 bpm faster than “normal.” Yes, I was in an Ironman, yes, I’d just finished the bike, but I didn’t think that should make such a large difference. That’s something you specifically train for, doing brick runs after your long rides. You condition the body to run in a tired, fatigued state.
I think the difference was heat. We had a beautiful race day. Blue skies, sunshine, and warm temperatures. Garmin says it was a whopping 20°C. I’m not sure if that’s the temp at the start of the activity or the average over the time. I’m guessing it got warmer than that on the run. And, I’m not used to that. We run in the mornings. In Minnesota. It’s dark, or the sun is just rising. It’s cool, like 12-15°C. There’s no direct sunshine. Believe it or not, I think that made a difference for me. I was feeling overheated. So, by about mile 5, I decided to walk through the aid station. I typically run through them, still taking my hydration and nutrition, but continuing to run pace. It was when I walked that I noticed my knee(s), specifically my right knee. It was a new pain, one I’d never experienced before. It was a somewhat sharp pain, on the inside of my right knee, just at the top of my lower leg. I felt it most when I was extending my leg forward. I walked through it at that aid station and decided to keep running and … the pain went away! I was happy with that. I only made it a few paces, though, and realized that I still wasn’t feeling right due to the heat. I walked half a mile and let my HR drop to the low 120s before running again. The knee pain was gone, but I only managed about a quarter of a mile and my HR was already pushing 140, though I was only running a 10:00 pace!!! I couldn’t believe it! I had just run a ~3:10 marathon back in April. My running form was spot on. I hit all my times in our interval training, using a 3:08 goal pace! Why the heck couldn’t I run pace and have my HR be in that nice zone, that I’d trained so hard to condition it to be in?!?!
The sad and honest truth is that, by that point, my mental game had completely crumbled. I had already devoted way too much mental energy thinking about how my race was changing from what I wanted it to be as my bike crumbled. I’d spent the past couple of miles on the run, still very much in the beginning of the run, mentally anguishing over what I was seeing my HR and how I was feeling physically.
To make matters worse, I then starting playing mental games with myself about how I was losing my mental game! That started a downward spiral and … it was over. Somewhere there, likely around mile 6-7, I was done and I knew it. I jogged and walked as best I could make myself do it to the half marathon point. Sadly, I was noticing my knee getting worse and worse and I was feeling it when I was running too. I had to run shorter and shorter segments before needing to walk and finally learned that if I took short little steps, the pain was much diminished. Along the way, though, I noticed, too, that the joint of my big toe on my right foot, where it meets the foot, was becoming acutely painful. I think I was adjusting my gait enough that it was putting extra pressure on that joint, which I’d injured in high school, effectively stepping on my own big toe by bending it completely over (ouch! -- the joint swelled to near baseball size and was a nasty black, blue, and purple for a long time).
I was infuriated with myself. I train with an awesome group of people. We all work incredibly hard in our workouts. Yet, I take a little pride in the fact that it seems I’m always (98% of the time, at least) able to push the hardest, suffer through the intervals or the tempo runs, make it to the top of the hill on our bikes first, etc. I definitely experience pain, discomfort, exhaustion, etc. in my training and have been able to continue to push myself. It made no sense to me, in the race, why I was giving up so easily. Yet, I couldn’t keep myself going, not running at least. I’d tried playing the mental game of re-evaluating my finishing time, figuring a way I could salvage a 10:anything finish, or even just setting a new PR, going anything faster than a 11:26. All to no avail. I’ve been in that dark, nasty place you end up in during an Ironman. When it’s not injury pain, but just the pain of unbelievable exhaustion and exertion. I can push through that (mostly). This was somehow different. I can’t say I’m injured, but that’s what the pain felt like in my toe joint and knee. I was sad, for myself and, frankly, for my group. We had all put so much into training to get PRs. I seriously had no doubt in my mind that I’d achieve a PR, my only question was by how much. And here it was all slipping away. It had slipped away already. Gone.
I alternated walking and … well, what can I call it? It certainly wasn’t running. It probably wasn’t even jogging, either. Let’s call it “shuffling.” I alternated walking and shuffling, pushing myself through the last half marathon to the finish. At one point, around mile 18 or so, I saw my partner and youngest son. I’d seen them all over the course throughout the day, cheering me on. As I was walking, and suffering, on the course, I held my son’s hand and he told me, “It’s alright dad, you’re doing great!” He also sang me some verses from a particular motivational song I like. My partner also, in a whispered voice, reminded me of the lesson in perseverance I was demonstrating to our son. Those things helped keep me going. By the time I made it to mile 20, I knew I’d finish, after all, how many bloody 10ks had I run up to that point in my training?! Still, I believe I walked nearly the entire last 4-5 miles. I managed to force myself to run the last half mile or so, slowly increasing the pace, though it was slightly uphill on State St to the Capitol. People said they saw me smiling. I thought I was gritting my teeth and grimacing. The pain was unbelievable, every step was a sharp pain in the knee as I extended my leg forward and then a shooting pain in my toe joint when I planted the foot. I felt on the verge of tears -- not of joy that I was almost done, but from the pain. Looking at Garmin, I see I managed a “sprint” down into the 7:30-ish range right at the end. I almost dread seeing my finisher’s photo, crossing the line. I’m not sure what my face will reveal.
Post Race
There were two catchers right at the line who guided me to a volunteer who removed my timing chip, another who put the finisher’s medal around my neck, another who handed me the finisher’s shirt and cap, and the last one who donned the thermal blanket on me. A training mate who’d signed-up to do the race, but DNS’d due to a leg injury, caught my eye and my handlers saw this, asking if that was my friend. When I answered yes, they felt confident in releasing me. I actually headed into the tent to find some chocolate milk, which they didn’t have!!! I put some pizza slices on a plate, though I never feel like eating right after a race. I connected with my friends and immediate family, though, sadly, didn’t connect with my brother and father who’d come up to cheer me on (I did see them multiple times throughout the day and really appreciated it). After some dithering over plans, and connecting with my other training mates as they crossed the finish line, family went home and we went to a nearby hotel to clean-up and head back out to grab a bit of food and watch the midnight finishers, which is always an awesome, inspirational experience. My knee and toe joint were still very sore, causing me to limp as I walked, but were tolerable. As I write this, a couple of days after the race, the pain in my knee is only a ghost of what it was. Sometimes I notice it, more and more I don’t. My toe joint was quite swollen, but that has receded and the pain is gone. I have some minor muscle soreness, but, truthfully, never really pushed it enough that I should be sore.
It’s going to take me a while to process this race and figure out just what the heck happened. I really felt that I was in the best shape I’d been in for an Ironman to-date. I’d trained consistently, felt strong, had (mostly) avoided injuries, and truly thought a PR was the bare minimum I would achieve in this race. I wasn’t cocky, just … confidently trained. But it never came to pass. At some point, I’ll have analyzed the heck out of this. Maybe I’ll have some answers, even if I have to convince myself of them, maybe I won’t. Eventually I’ll bring closure to this. It’s hard, doing the worst you’ve ever done. Yet, I did finish. For now, I’ll hold on to that.
It's been a long while since I've actually posted anything on this blog, though I think I have my 2013 Wisconsin Ironman and 2014 Ironman Austria reports both about 66% done. I needed to write this particular race report, though, since it turns out: I won!
You might recall from earlier posts that I train with a great group of people, all of them endurance athletes. A set of six of us decided to sign up for the 2015 Ironman Wisconsin and wanted to also look at an early marathon, both as a test of our training for Ironman, but also so that some in the group could (re-)qualify for Boston in 2016 (Dave and I had already qualified and ran there and the others had it as a dream or stretch goal).
We recycled a plan that Dave had used as he prepared to run a sub-3:00 at Boston (he wound up with a 3:00:03) in 2013. I entered the plan into a spreadsheet and setup formulas for each of the workouts so the pacing data would adjust for whichever runner was looking at the plan. We might have an interval run like: "2 mile warmup/ 2 down + 6x 1 mile @ 06:25-06:30/mile with 2 minutes recovery between," which is pacing for me, but it would change to "07:51-07:57/mile" for Deb. We ran outside, up here in Minnesota, all winter long, and even fit in twice a week biking sessions, just because we're triathletes and still have our eyes on Septembers Ironman. A couple of the folks in the group even managed to get in their swims as well!
Lead-up
We collectively looked at races in the area in the early spring and settled on the "Run for the Lakes" marathon in Nisswa, MN. In it's eighth year, the race is a USATF certified course and a qualifier for Boston. We all trained hard and got stronger and faster, though there were some set-backs. Kristen developed some IT band issues and was out for several weeks. Mark had some knee issues and wasn't even sure if he was going to run at all. Dave pulled a hamstring playing soccer and was out for a couple weeks, traveled overseas and didn't run for a couple more, and then developed Achilles tendonitis that had him out for another couple weeks. Deb wound up with some knee issues and cut some long runs short. Mike felt like he was over-trained but kept plugging away. Chris started off wanting the BQ but then revised his plans based on what he was seeing in training. I even had a bit of a scare when, just four weeks before the event, I started noticing something in my left glute that I thought might be tendonitis. In spite of all this, we loaded up in cars and headed to Nisswa on Friday night and everyone planned to run at least part of the race.
Walking to the car at the hotel, carrying 40s for after the race
The two women in the training group, Deb and Kristen, needed 3:40s, to qualify for Boston. Given historic cut-offs, we figured everyone should be at least 2:00 faster, so they were training to run 3:35. Three of guys the training group, Dave, Mike, and Mark needed a 3:15 and they trained for a 3:13 to be safe. I'm older so only needed a 3:25, but planned on running the race with Dave, Mike, and Mark at 3:13.
In the end, Kristen was going to run the half. Mark wasn't sure what he was going to do, leaning towards not running at all, but considering the half. Mike, Dave, and I were going for the 3:13 BQ. Deb was going for her 3:35 and a BQ and Chris was going to run with her. Matt was going to run the half for a PR. We had a group meal at an Olive Garden in Brainerd, then were back to the hotel in Baxter to get race bibs fastened and strategies discussed. We then headed out about 07:15 for the quick drive up to Nisswa.
The Race
The weather was perfect: it was cool and cloudy and while there was some wind, I never really thought it was an issue on course. After hitting the bathrooms and getting a great group picture
Clockwise from back left: Chris, Dave, me, Mike, Deb, Kristen, Matt and Mark
in the Community Center, Dave, Mike and I jogged for about 5 minutes and then headed to the starting line just in time for the National Anthem. We wiggled our way to the front, did a group five second count-down, and the gun went off. Mike took off fast, but Dave and I did our best to just run pace. A 3:13 finishing time means a 7:22 per mile pace. We agreed to run 7:20s. Of course, we never hit that exactly, and were running a touch fast, but we were close. Within a mile, we'd caught up to Mike who then ran alongside for another couple miles. Mike then started to fade back a bit, but that was his M.O.: he'd run about 20 yards behind and be attached by an invisible rope. We were used to it in training, so didn't think anything of it during the race. Somewhere around mile 6, I think, we realized Mike was falling a bit more behind. Dave and I decided to stick with our plan and just kept on pace.
The first half marathon was really quite nice.
Course map
Dave and I were chatting, a bit, hitting the aid stations, taking note of significant points for the next lap, etc. We were cruising and feeling good. As we came to the half marathon point, we were curious to see how many of the people in front of us would disappear. It turns out that "all" of them did. We took our full marathon detour and suddenly there was nobody in front of us, as we wound our way around the finish and back onto the main loop. As we came around a corner just past mile 14, one of the volunteers shouted to us, "Go get her!" We looked up ahead and saw a lone figure running a ways up the road. We kept on our pace and were slowly gaining on her. At mile 14.6, there was a left turn so we could go up 0.2 miles, turn around in the road, and then come back down again to add the 0.4 needed because of how our course differed from those running the half, but allowing us all to finish in the same place. As we were running to the turn around, two things happened: 1) we finally got a chance to see the woman ahead of us as she came running past us after she'd made the turn; and 2) Dave started having issues.
At the time, what I heard was, "Uh, ... not feeling so good ... go get 'em," or something like that. What I found out later was that he noticed his HR had spiked up in the 180s and that his gut was bothering him. He said it was the first time he really thought he was going to puke in a race! I continued running pace, but kept one eye behind me, thinking and hoping he'd recover and rejoin me. The other eye was on the woman in front of me, growing steadily closer. I passed her just after mile 16. I heard from Dave afterwards that when he saw me catch her he thought, "Oh no!..." because when you pass someone, you don't want them to linger just behind you - you want to pass them and make sure they don't stick there, so you pick up the pace a bit. I don't think I did that, but all Dave knew was that he'd need to run even faster to catch.
It turns out he was doing some very low 7:00s trying to catch me. At one point I heard him just behind me, maybe 10 meters. He'd passed the woman too and seemed to be rallying so I gave him a thumbs up and some encouraging words. Unfortunately, that was the end for Dave and he faded quickly thereafter. Later I learned that he kept running to about mile 18, then walked and ran to about mile 23, looking for the medical tent, and then DNF'd. They put ice on his Achilles and he got a ride back to the finish.
On My Own
I, however, was now running on my own. I'd passed the woman, but had no idea how many others were in front of me. Rather than think about that, I kept focus on my pace. I was surprised to see mile 19 pop up. The previous couple of miles just sort of flowed. I was in a good place and was enjoying the feel of the run - it was quiet in the woods. All I heard were my own footfalls and breathing. Even the aid stations were quiet, people just standing there with water or Powerade in their outstretched hand.
Regarding nutrition, I'd decided to make a big change heading into this race. I've gotten myself to the point where I can do a 12-14 mile training run without water or food. I do pre-hydrate by drinking a water bottle of electrolyte beforehand and maybe munching on some sort of bar or popping a GU. During my long runs, I've been doing water in two bottles and a carb drink in the other two, plus some blocks or chomps and a GU. This is very different from my carb drink heavy approach of years past, where I was also trying to do a GU every 45 minutes or so. I've had two recent races where my gut prevented me from a better time (the Boston marathon and Ironman Austria) and I really didn't want that to happen again. For this race, I drank my electrolyte water bottle just after waking up and munched down a Bonk Breaker bar. I packed a bar and some chomps for the run. I started the chomps around mile 6, just two at a time, slowly dissolving and chewing them. I would alternate that with nibbling on the bar. I also alternated just drinking water and then Powerade at each support station. In addition, I brought along a GU Roctane, but was only going to use it if I really thought I needed it.
Miles 19-~23 got a bit hard. I'd lost my "zen" feeling and realized it was different and a bit lonely up front. I've done most of my running with my training group, though have done enough solo running, usually longer runs, that it wasn't entirely new to me. The terrain was rolling and, for the first time, I found that I needed to put in some effort to keep pace up the hills. Mentally, I pulled out some of my first-use Ironman mantras, including a new one my partner had gifted me in an email just that morning when she said, "Run like the wind, Bullseye!" Somewhere in there I decided to do the Roctane. I'm glad I did. By mile 24, I was feeling strong again. Of course, by this point the rollers were done and there was an ever so gradual uphill slope left to the finish. As I came around a corner just past mile 24, I zipped to the aid station to grab a handful of oranges and asked the volunteers there how many were ahead of me. Their answered shouts came to my back as, "Uh, ... I don't know, ... maybe a couple?" I looked up the road and, sure enough, saw someone off in the distance.
I briefly allowed myself to think that, "Wow, I might be able to podium in this," thinking third place would be pretty darned cool! I quickly re-centered and focused on pace again and was surprised when I zipped past the person who had been so far up the road. It turns out to have been a half marathoner who I'd just lapped. That also helped explain why the volunteers really weren't sure how many were ahead of me. Another corner revealed several clusters of half marathon joggers / walkers. I did my best to maintain my pace catching up to and running past these groups. I had my pace and I was going to stick to it.
When I saw the sign for mile 25, I was really happy. I was feeling good and knew that even if I totally blew up, for whatever strange reason, I could still walk it in and meet my real qualifying time. Earlier on, while still running with Dave, he'd asked how far ahead we were. I paged down on my Garmin screens to my Virtual Pacer, set for 7:20s, and saw that we were about 1:45 ahead of pace at that point. I figured I might be something over 2:00 minutes ahead and did the quick mental math and realized that I had a chance of doing a 3:10:something. Again, though, I put that out of my mind and just focused on pace and form. The wall I'd hit two years earlier in the Minneapolis marathon never appeared. It seemed the worst I'd faced in this race was a little bit of extra effort needed to get over the rolling hills 8 miles back. Things were looking and feeling good.
As I came up the biking trail they had us running on into town, I shouted out to a volunteer, "Where's the finish?" and she indicated, with a big smile, "It's just up there, keep going then turn left." So, I did. I covered that last third of a mile and came to a cluster of people cheering at a corner. One of them was Matt, from our group who'd done the half marathon. I'm hoping it was a smile I gave him as I came around the corner. That's when I saw the race clock and it read 3:09:19, or something like that. I know I smiled then as I realized I was going to make it under 3:10! Still, though, I just kept running what felt like pace (I didn't look at my watch) and ran myself under that finishing banner.
Done! (with a chomp block in each cheek still)
I stopped my watch, took a few steps, then put my hands on my knees and just rested a bit. I wasn't really all that tired and wasn't sore, though I had noticed my hips talking to me a bit the previous 4 miles or so. I stood up and started walking again when I realized I likely should be getting a finisher's medal and turned around. A volunteer sort of awkwardly walked up and draped one around my neck then silently offered me some water.
Post Race
As I was opening the water bottle, a man walked up to the barricade and asked my name and some other basic information. I thought he was the race director, just wanting to make sure things matched with my bib number. Then I saw Matt and he was beaming a smile at me. He said something like, "Great job!" I thanked him for that and then he said, "You won!!!" I didn't believe him, and said as much. I think I said, "You're kidding, right?" but he insisted that I'd won. He said that another runner had come through before me, but he was the last member of the winning relay team. Matt assured me that I was the first solo marathon runner to cross the line. I was totally surprised! I really thought there were "a couple" of people in front of me. The man who had asked me my name then reappeared, though I think he'd been watching Matt and I the whole time. He asked a few more questions and then said he'd like to talk with me some more after I'd had a break. I still wasn't clear on who this guy was, but I indicated I'd likely just be "around."
Matt and I got my thermal blanket wrapped around me, though I really wasn't cold. We talked some more about his claim that I'd really won the event, with me still disbelieving, but coming around to the idea. Eventually the question-asking guy came up to us again. This time Matt walked off and the guy pulled out a tape recorder. He asked a lot of questions, which I answered, though I still didn't really know who this guy was. I still thought he was a race director. Cutting this bit of the story to it's conclusion, he turned out to be a reporter who wrote this story the next day.
Matt and I reconnected and then I mentioned that, "Dave should've been right behind me." As we waited, though, it became clear that he wasn't. We then watched the next person come in and cross the line. I wandered back toward the finish and shook his hand. He said his name was Lon Anderson, that he was 50, and that this was his first marathon. I was quite impressed. His time was 3:20:something which is quite fast for a first event. Matt and I kept watching the clock and expecting when the next members of our group would be coming through. We kept hoping to see Dave, but never did. Next to come through was Mike, who ran an awesome race and PR'd by 25 minutes, placed 10th overall, and took 3rd in his age group! Then we saw Deb, who made her BQ by 57 seconds, also PR'd, won her age group and took 2nd overall for women! Excellent performances!
In talking to Mike, and then Deb, Matt and I learned that Dave had DNF'd, as I mentioned above. That was sad news to hear as he and I were really having a great race together up until his issues at mile 15. I then decided to walk to the car and get my phone, only a block away. I'd turned it off to save battery and when I turned it back on, it started beeping with all sorts of notifications. The first thing I did, though, was called home and talked to my partner. Her first words were, "Oh Brian, what happened?" Her voice was full of compassion and concern. I was really confused at this point. I told her that I'd just run a 3:09, that I'd set a new PR, and that I thought I'd won the race. She said, "Hon, I've been watching the results page. They have some guy named Lon as the winner with a 3:20. I can see Mike's and Deb's finishes, but I don't see you or ... oh wait, there's Dave." I told her again that I was fine, had finished well, and that I really did run a 3:09. With that, she was quite happy! She congratulated me and then let me go.
I checked on some of those many notifications and one of them was a text, from a training mate who's running a later marathon, saying, "Mike is that a PR!! Brian what happened???" By now I understood the confusion and what he was asking, so I texted back, "My watch had me at 3:09:44. I think I won. I was interviewed by the race director" The response came back, "Yes!!! You are not on the results page tho! They hv winner at 3:20" After hearing that news twice now, I headed over to the results tent. They had a really nice large-screen display showing the results and, sure enough, Lon Anderson was listed as the winner with his 3:20:02 time. The had a computer there where you could put in your bib number and get your timing ticket printed. I did so and was pleased to see that I had an official time of 3:09:37! With that in hand, I then walked to the timing tent. I mentioned to them that their on-line page showed Lon as the winner with a 3:20:02. They looked at their phones and said, "Yup." I then held out my finishers ticket and said, "I ran a 3:09." One guy grabbed the ticket, seemed surprised, and dashed for a computer and started clicking away. The other one had a clipboard that he started flipping through. He quickly said, "Sure enough, we have you here as the first finisher and the backup stopwatch time matches. You got first. We'll get it corrected."
Clockwise: Deb, Mark, Matt, me, Mike, Kristen, and Dave
The whole experience was a really weird way to find out I'd won -- it didn't show that to people watching on-line and no race official actually did or said anything when I finished. Still, it eventually sank in and was a pretty neat feeling. Somewhere in there Kristen, who'd run the half and had no knee issues, joined Matt and I and gave me a big hug. Mark started the race to do the half, felt good, and just kept going and finished with a PR! Chris finished with a smile on his face as well. Dave came hobbling over with an ice back taped to his swollen Achilles, all smiles and happy for the whole crew. Those 40s I'd lugged to the car were found and opened by Mike and Dave. We all headed into the Community Center and took turns getting our free, post-race massages. I was pulled aside and interviewed by another reporter (I never have found that article). We all had some beer, ate some donut holes, and had a great time talking about the race, getting each person's perspectives on the various stories and experiences we'd all had. It was a really fun time.
Awards
Me, Mike, and Deb with Awards
We all hung out in the Community Center and waited for the 13:30 awards ceremony. It was pretty neat that three of us, in the group of eight, managed to place in our age groups, two of us took podiums in our gender, and that I somehow snagged the overall win. We all had a great day and everyone left happy. I don't think you can ask for much more than that. We drove home shortly afterwards and headed to Mike's where we'd planned a party for the runners, spouses, and children. What Dave didn't know is that his wife had also planned to use that party for his birthday party: he would turn 40 the next Tuesday. We all had a great time, ate too much food, drank too much alcohol, and probably stood on legs that could have used a rest. Everyone had an awesome time!
Post-Race Analysis
I've taken a peek at my splits in Garmin and on Strava, specifically looking at Grade Adjusted Pacing (GAP) and found that Dave and I, then just myself, did a great job at keeping pace. It wasn't as robotically perfect as Dave managed when running Boston, but I was quite happy with what I saw. My average HR was just 155. When I BQ'd in the Minneapolis marathon in June 2013, my average was 161. As I look back on the race, I realize that it was more like a training run. I was never out on the edge or worried about whether I'd "make" it. I did have to work that one section to stay on pace, but things never faltered. I also realized that I negative split my second half-marathon, running a 1:34:49 for the first half and a 1:34:48 for the second half -- a one second difference. NOTE: I just downloaded my "official" finishers' certificate and they are listing my official time as 3:09:48, so the two half-marathon times are exactly the same.
I think that if I'd thought more about my mental math when I realized I could go a 3:10-ish around mile 25, I believe I was still far enough away from the "edge" to be able to bump the pace by 10-15 seconds per mile. In my day-dreams, I'd have been able to drop the pace to 6:50s for those last two miles and that would have put me into the 3:08 range that I really felt I could have run at Boston in 2014 if I hadn't blown-up due to meds and GI issues. That's awesome validation of where my training is at as I look forward to Ironman Wisconsin in just over four months. It also has me thinking about what I want to set my goals for at Boston in 2016. Maybe a 3:05? Maybe shoot for that magical "Rule of 6" and go for a 3:02:57!? We'll see what the future holds.
Thanks
I really, really, really need to thank my running group for all the help and support they've provided over the years. Besides the folks who were at the race with me, this includes Johnny, Jen, Evan, and even folks like Andrew who have influenced me from afar. Having a group of folks like they all are is invaluable. You know they're getting up when you're feeling tired and questioning wanting to get out of bed. You know that they'll be at your side pushing harder when you want to falter on the interval run. You know that, while there is always some friendly competition and ribbing going on, they have your best interests in mind with helpful and critical thoughts on nutrition, overtraining, stretching, injuries, and the like. I'm a far better runner today than I was when I met the first of these folks and started training with them. I really and truly owe them the majority of my success. Thanks to you all!!!!
Finisher's medal, overall trophy (it's a water tower), and the age group winner's medal
This is my race report of the 2012 Ironman Wisconsin race I did on Sunday 9 September 2012. For those who follow me on Google+, Twitter, or Facebook, you can skip directly to the race report here. Even if you do follow me there, you might choose to continue reading as there may be new stuff below.
Prolog
My journey started a year ago, on Monday 12 September 2011, when I signed-up on-line to do this event. At the time I wondered if I was crazy. In the intervening months I fell into a great training group, including folks who'd done Ironman events before. I was able to focus on my running, my weakest leg, and was really feeling good about where I was (on my 43rd birthday, I did a 21 mile run at a 7:45 average pace and felt great). Unfortunately, at the end of May, the shin splints I'd been battling for a couple of weeks turned out to be a fairly serious stress fracture. I spent the entire month of June in a boot cast and doing no training at all.
Even after the boot was off in the beginning of July, I really wasn't able to run. So, I focused on swimming and cycling with the hopes that cycling fitness and residual fitness from the previous 8 months would last into my Ironman event. I'd been running 150-160 miles per month, at least in the most recent ones. Between the months of July and August, combined, I only ran 60 miles. My longest run since mid-May was a "fresh" 12 miler and my longest brick (run after biking) was only 9 miles. I knew the run was going to be interesting.
Thankfully I'd been able to jump back into cycling. The Wisconsin course is well known for it's hills. RunTri did an interesting analysis to determine that Wisconsin was the 3rd hardest course (at the time), only behind St. George (no longer) and Kona, and that was primarily due to the bike course.
For those not too familiar with the event or the course, Ironman's Dave Erickson did several pre-race videos. Here are two shorte preview videos that are kind of nice.
I was hoping they'd show some more of the bike course, just to show the hills to those who haven't done this event, but I'll keep looking for other videos that show that.
Registration
I drove down to Madison on Friday morning, 7 September 2012, before the race.
Registration at the Monona Terrace was open the Thursday before and that Friday, so I needed to be there that afternoon, before 17:00, to get registered. There were plenty of signs and friendly volunteers to guide me exactly where I needed to go. I have to admit that I was pretty excited. All around me were fit athletes and Ironman logos. I was here and this really was an Ironman event!
I had no troubles with checkin and the long lines moved quickly. I spent a little time browsing and shopping in the Ironman store they had setup in the "Village" where I bought a nice "name" t-shirt (with all 2,800 competitors names printed in the form of the "M-dot" logo on the back), some new 2XU compression socks, and a nice visor:
Add these to the awesome transition backpack they gave us and I was a pretty happy new Ironman camper!
I then hung-out at a Starbucks up the street from the Terrace and relaxed, catching up on some Google+ing, before the pre-race dinner and mandatory race briefing.
The famous Mike Reilly, the "Voice of Ironman," was the MC. He had the oldest male (73) and female (68), as well as the youngest male (18) and female (19) up on stage for a while, as well as a married couple who were doing the race together. A lot of what he said was funny, some of it moving, but mostly he just served as a glue between the various speakers and videos they had planned for us that night.
The race briefing was strict, but I'd been told it would be, so I wasn't too freaked out. When it was all done at about 21:00, I headed back to my in-laws to connect with the rest of my family and the sisters in-law, brother in-law, and nieces and nephews who came down that night.
Bike and Bag Checkin
Saturday morning I was up decently early so I could head back down to the Terrace to turn in my bike and transition bags. I spent the morning going through the check lists I'd developed at home as I'd laid everything out and then wrote down what went into each of the various bags (transition and special needs) when I packed everything into my usual, single, transition bag.
I also needed to decide if I was going to sign up to do this race next year. I was mostly decided, after a nice heart to heart talk with my partner and family, that I would do it. However, when I got into the car for the short 15 minute drive down, I decided to hook my phone up to the car audio system and play some Pandora. I'd previously been listening to their "Alternative Endurance Training" station and the first song that came on was Young the Giant's "My Body."
This is a song I loved hearing when I was sweating away down in the basement on my trainer or lifting weights in the winter months. It always moved me and motivated me to keep pushing. I took that as a sign that I was supposed to sign-up for next year. I rocked out all the way into town, feeling good about my decision!
After parking I unloaded the bike and my two transition bags and walked across the street to the transition area. Turning in the bike was extremely easy, though the line was long enough that I was a bit worried I'd miss the deadline to sign-up for next year's event. Part of the hold-up was that they had about four chutes where people could enter and they had you pause at each one, holding your bike against a clear white background so they could photograph it from the (chainring) side. I'm guessing this was for their insurance purposes in case bikes were stolen or damaged overnight. They were pretty quick, though, and I had my bike racked before I knew it.
I then zipped down to sign-up for next year's event, which was again smooth and easy, then I headed up to position my transition bags. I wound up placing my T2 bag first:
I then walked down the hall and placed my T1 bag:
I'm not sure how other Ironman events do it, but for Madison we run into the convention center for each transition, down the green carpets (hopefully you remembered which of the seven or so columns you were in), grabbed your bag, and then headed into the central changing area. This is the sign that greeted athletes (at least on bag check-in day) outside the men's changing area:
Inside the room was full of plastic chairs with a table in the middle that eventually held cups and coolers of water:
With that task done, I headed back home for some lunch. My family, along with all of the extended family, had headed into town to do the zoo and other activities with all the kids (my two plus six of their cousins), so I had the house to myself for several hours. I decided to relax a bit.
The Night Before
That night was pretty low key. I think family was respecting that I might want to have a quiet, easy night and I really appreciate that. I went for an easy walk with my partner around the neighborhood. I played Munchkin with my son, sister in-law, and nephew. We had a decent supper, though I only ate parts of it (mostly potato salad!). I was then up and in bed fairly early, by 18:30.
I laid there for a while, wondering if I was going to sleep. Many people I'd talked with said they didn't get a wink of sleep the night before. I was slowly drifting off when one of my training buddies called, around 19:30, to motivate me and remind me of all the training I'd put in for this. It was a fairly short call and I was soon back to trying to sleep. Around 20:30, a heavy thunderstorm rolled in: lots of lightening and heavy rain with strong winds. I'd checked the forecast and knew it wasn't supposed to be raining in the morning, but it also hadn't called for this thunderstorm. I was hoping it wasn't a bad omen.
My "sleep" was like a shallow sine wave, slowly drifting into and out of sleep. I never woke up in a start thinking I was late, but I also never really got into a deep sleep.
The Morning Of
In spite of my lack of real sleep, I woke at 03:30 feeling fairly well rested. I used the restroom, got all BodyGlided up, put on the heart rate monitor, my timing chip, and the tri suit. I always wear the same hiking shorts and black long-sleeved t-shirt over top of my tri gear at races and I didn't want to change anything this time, so that went on as well. I headed downstairs, quietly, and munched down a Bonk Breaker bar and started sipping an electrolyte drink.
My partner was up and got herself ready as well and we headed into Madison at 04:30. We had no troubles parking in a lot just across the street from the Terrace. It was strange to see so much activity going on that early in the morning! Thousands of athletes and their support people were out and about. My first activity was to drop off my two special needs bags. I really didn't think I needed them, but thought I should have them out there, just in case and so I could potentially drop stuff off (arm warmers from the bike or Fuel Belt on the run).
I then headed into the bike area to make sure everything was OK there. I borrowed a floor pump to make sure the tires were at proper pressure and then made a last minute decision that would prove interesting later on. I had planned on stuffing my tri suit pockets, in T1, with the nutrition I'd want to consume during the bike. Part of that was some GU packets, both regular and Roctane. Instead, I decided to tape them to the bike. I had electrical tape in my morning bag as I'd already been thinking a bit about this. I taped two packets to my top tube, right up tight against the headset. I've done this before and it's worked well. More on this, though, later.
After that, it was into body marking. That was a bit chaotic, but surprisingly quick. There were volunteers all over the place, easily spotted in their lime-green t-shirts, with athletes clustered all around them. Once I was marked, my partner and I walked down the signature spiral part of the parking ramp. We'd have to run up that ramp, three stories, coming out of the water to get into the building to get our T1 bags and change.
We then made our way down towards the water where I made a last port-a-potty stop and then changed into my wetsuit. With all of my gear stowed in my "morning" bag, I got a last kiss, said goodbye and headed to where all the other athletes were. I dropped off my morning bag and then officially "checked-in" by having my timing chip chirp over the mat as I headed down to the water.
Swim
I went and looked at historical weather data for Madison, Verona, Mt Horeb, and Cross Plains and the weather in Madison and the surrounding area that day was: low 9°C, high 23°C, winds 8-24 kph out of the N/NW. I'm guessing the air temperature that morning, by the time I was in the water, was around 12°C, though I think it warmed up fairly quickly. The water temperature was a nice 22°C. The swim course has us starting in the water, about 200 meters from the shoreline. You can see that here.
There was a large red buoy positioned right at the start and I swam straight to it. Once there, I realized I was about 20 minutes early and so swam out, nice and easy, to the farther buoy line and back. When I got there, things were already starting to fill up, so I started treading water with everyone else. I managed to find this video, which I'm in! This guy was a kayak volunteer and had a GoPro camera mounted on his craft. At 49 seconds into the video he has a shot where he was by the group of us out at the big red buoy and told us to cheer. I'm the one right in the middle waving like an idiot. :)
After another five minutes or so the professionals started swimming into the area. I believe Ben Hoffman, the eventual winner, brushed my shoulder swimming past me. They got to start about 10 meters in front of us (they didn't go a full 2.4 miles!). Their cannon went off at 06:50 and I had 10 minutes to go.
I was strangely calm and had been all morning. I could hear Mike Reilly urging the remaining athletes to get in the water or they wouldn't be there by the time we started! I'd mentioned I was lined up right at the first buoy and right in the front. Well, many other quick swimmers had the same idea and tried to worm their way up front. I always managed to regain my position, but before I knew it I was shoulder to shoulder with other swimmers, with many more pressing into my back. We were like sardines and it was impossible to tread water without banging into someone's arm or catching their leg underwater.
Though I was listening intently, I never heard a cannon or even an official start for us, I just noticed other athletes holding out their hands to start their watches, so I did the same, and then all of a sudden folks were swimming! I quickly started my own watch and put my head down and went. My strategy all along had been to swim hard the first 500 meters to "get out in front" and find some calmer water. The first leg was just over 1 km long and I thought that would be enough to get things sorted out.
I was wrong. I'd always read about Ironman swim starts, how they are rough, and look like salmon spawning. Anybody who's browsed YouTube videos for "Ironman swim start" or volunteered at an event will know what I mean. For those who haven't, here's a video of this year's swim:
It's rough (especially if you watch by the yellow buoy). I thought it would mostly be rough if you were in the middle of it all. I'm here to tell you it applies equally well to those in the front. For that entire first 1 km I was banging into people or being banged into. I clocked some poor woman square on the head with my wrist (with my watch) and hand. Other people were swimming diagonally in front of me, even though I swam a fairly straight line right down the yellow buoys. Things, of course, got tight again at the first turn. It was only about 200 meters to the next turn and once I made it around there, to the back stretch, I finally found some open water and was able to sort of get into a groove.
At this point, with the rough start, I'd taken in quite a bit of Lake Monona. It tastes pretty good. :) Remember those winds I'd mentioned above? Well, they came into play as there was a decent 15 cm chop on the lake. With the wind coming NNW and us swimming NE and me breathing to my right, that meant that there was almost always water washing over my head on each breath. Luckily I wasn't breathing into it, but it was almost as bad having that water washing down across your face each time.
That back stretch is about 1,800 meters long and it was the first time I was able to have long stretches of swimming without bumping into anyone. Coming around the third turn got a bit tight again, but by now there weren't too many of us to cause problems. As I came around the fourth and final turn, I had about 600 meters to go in the last diagonal stretch. I felt good, but suddenly realized that I'd been so focused on the roughness of the swim that I hadn't really been trying to swim fast! I had a feeling that, due to all the thrashing early on, the lake water I'd drank, and my inattention, my swim time wasn't going to be great. Rather than trying to burn it up that last 600 meters, I decided to just swim strong.
Unfortunately, something that had been on the edge of my consciousness suddenly made it self known: I was getting cramps in my calves and soleuses. It started on my right leg coming around the third turn. I had been kicking with a flexed foot (not at all effective for propulsion, but certainly helped trying to stretch out the cramp). Just when I thought that one was worked out, the left started to cramp too. I was so worried about these cramps, and the disaster it would be if I had them in both legs at the same time, that I thought: "I wish I had bananas right now!" Somehow, just thinking of bananas seemed to help. I actually repeated that word in my head over and over while I was swimming and the cramps stopped! I couldn't believe it.
I was able to swim strong the last 300 meters into the shore. When I did pull myself out of the water and managed to hit a split on my watch, I was surprised at the time. While I'd had dreams of going sub-hour, I was figuring this swim was more like a 1:10, so the time I saw put a smile on my face.
Swim Time: 1:03:58 (1:39/100m) Division (M40-44): 33 of 448 - 7.37% Gender: 169 of 1,764 (registered) - 9.58%
Overall: 214 of 2,453 (starters) - 8.72%
T1
After getting the wetsuit unzipped and off my shoulders, I was at the strippers. For those not in triathlon, these are the volunteers who help you get your wetsuit off. You pull it down to about your hips, drop onto your back in front of them with your feet in the air. They grab the suit at the waist, you lift your butt, and they pull (strip) the suit right up and off your legs. They then reach down to help you up and hand you your suit back.
There's about a 100 meter run up from the shoreline and into the parking ramp area. That's when we start running up the three stories of spiral to get into the Terrace building. I zipped into the T1 bag area and went down the right aisle (mine was right in the middle), snatched my bag and ran around to get into the changing room.
I had been told by others who'd done IMWI that there would be a volunteer "assigned" to me, or at least right there to help me. I dashed to a chair and started pulling gear out of my T1 bag, looking around to see who might be there to help. I didn't see anyone so I started toweling off a bit and grabbing my biking gear. I had everything on and was stuffing my wetsuit, cap, and googles into my bag when someone finally comes up and asks if they can help. I said, "Sure, you can put these arm warmers on me!" and they did just that. I was a little upset that nobody had been there to help me thusfar -- I saw many volunteers helping many other people. Maybe I looked like I knew what I was doing and didn't need help.
Anyway, being all geared up, I ran out of the room, in stocking feet and carrying my bike shoes, down the main hall and out of the building to the ... sunscreen volunteers! These folks had on rubber gloves and had huge vats of sunscreen at their feet. You'd stand in front of them and they'd smear you up -- shoulders, back, arms, legs (if you offered them), face, ears, etc. -- with sunscreen. I stood there and turned a bit for what I thought was long enough for them to get me covered, then ran off up the parking ramp and around the corner in to the bike area.
I knew right where my bike was, of course, and was quite pleased to see that a volunteer was already pulling it off the bar. By the time I got to my bar, my bike was there and waiting. I ran it down the other half of the parking area to the mount zone. Just before then, I stopped and put on my shoes. The mount zone was fairly open at that time, maybe just 10 other athletes, so there was plenty of room to get on, clipped in, and start the three stories of spiral back down the ramp and out onto the road. I was excited to start the bike!
T1 Time: 8:40
Bike
My strategy for the bike was to regulate my power. I planned to do this by perception and also checks on the heart rate (HR) monitor. I had done several full distance rides on terrain that mimicked the course, so was hoping I'd do well at this. The bike course is an east-west lollipop: you head generally west out of town about 15 miles, then do two 40 mile loops through the hills and a few local communities, before heading back east into town again. Here's the map:
The course is hilly. I lived in Madison for almost 8 years and biked in and around the area for much of that time, including my undergraduate years when I was on the UW's club sport cycling team. I knew the hills well and had come down and ridden the loop again twice this past summer. The most striking thing is that you can never quite get into a steady rhythm. You can get into aero on the flats, but they only last so long before you're climbing the next hill. We're not talking mountains, but it's certainly not a flat course:
Things started out fine and I was really feeling good. I covered the first 53 miles of the ride (the stick of the lollipop and the first loop) in 2:43:03 or 19.5 mph (31.38 kph). I was feeling strong and really had no concerns about my HR or power output at this point. I was also doing well on my nutrition and fluids. However, ... my second loop was downright pedestrian, with an average of just 17.72 mph (28.52 kph)! I just didn't have the legs to power up the hills. I was generally comfortable and felt fine otherwise, though I spent more time on the hoods than in the aero position, but the legs just didn't have anything in them for those hills.
Remember those GU packets I mentioned I'd taped to my top tube? Well, every time I stood to pedal, my inner thighs would brush against the packets and I was getting little cuts from the sharp edges of them. :( I eventually consumed one of them just to get rid of it and then peeled the other two off and stuffed them in my tri suit pockets. They both stayed there until the end of the race.
I did manage to recover enough after the two loops to bring it "home" fairly well, covering the last 18 miles back into town at a 19.34 mph (31.12 kph) over some gentle rollers. I was happy to be back in town and was ready to get off the bike after riding back up the three stories of the parking ramp spiral.
One thing I'll also point out is that the fans along the bike course were incredible! My own family surprised me with both the locations and number of times I saw them. They must have been zipping from spot to spot to see me at times. I really do appreciate it!
Also, there were times, especially climbing the two steepest hills on the loop, where the crowds were just like what you see when watching the Tour de France. People were 8-10 deep along both sides of the road, and into the road, so that they had to back-up to let riders get through. It was an amazing experience. The first time I encountered it, I was on one of the first S-curves at the bottom of the hill and I could already hear the crowd, but couldn't yet see them. Then as I came around a curve they were there. They lined the road for a good 200-300 meters from the top and they were providing all sorts of motivation, cheers, chants, sayings, etc. It was pretty neat.
Bike Time: 5:57:43 (18.79 mph) Division (M40-44): 54 of 448 - 12.05% Gender: 298 of 1,764 (registered) - 16.89% Overall: 329 of 2,453 (starters) - 13.41% HR Average: 141 bpm
T2
I think my T2 rocked and it could have been faster by at least a minute. After handing off my bike, I ran into the convention center, down the hall, and into the T2 bag room. From there it was a quick dash into the changing room again. There wasn't much to do clothing-wise and I had my running gear on and all my bike stuff re-packed in my transition bag before a volunteer came up to offer assistance. The only thing I had wanted help with was putting water in my FuelBelt bottles. I'd pre-staged dry mix of some GU Roctane and Electrolyte tabs. If he had come over right away, he could have handed me the belt as I was finishing up. As it was, I actually took a minute (it felt like longer, of course) and did some quick stretching of the lower back and my injury area on my left leg (just working the soleus and gastrocnemius) while he was filling the bottles.
As soon as I had my FuelBelt in hand, I was running out of the room, putting the belt on as I went. I zipped down the hallway and out the same doors I'd exited after T1. There, again, were the sunscreen volunteers. I took time again to have them slather me up. I even waited, somewhat impatiently, I'll admit, while they smeared the stuff on my shoulders, taking time to get up under my tri suit. I thought that was quite nice of them, but was feeling the need to get moving again, so off I went ... all of about 5 meters into a porta-potty for my only pit-stop in the whole race (just a quick pee).
After that, I was running back up the parking ramp and heading out onto the run!
It affords spectators incredible access to the athletes, which is good for both parties: it's so nice to see family cheering you on so often and they appreciate getting to see more of you after seven hours of brief glimpses.
My strategy for the run was based entirely on heart rate (HR). I wanted to shoot for not going over 145 and hoped to keep it right around 140. I don't have a GPS watch, though I have trained enough with a running partner who does, that I can do a decent job of gauging my pace based on my heart rate. It turns out I didn't need to do this as there were mile markers on course for every single mile. I simply took splits and was able to see, for each mile, how I was doing.
I started off feeling good and strong, thinking about quick cadence with the feet.
Indeed, my first mile was a 7:55 pace at a 142 average HR. I was feeling pretty good! I knew my swim was close to an hour (my watch reported it as a 1:05, though I know I hit the split button as I was running up the spiral) and I knew my bike was under 6 hours. I felt that I had the capability of a 4 hour marathon, which is about a consistant 9:00/mile pace. Knowing that, and knowing that I really needed to regulate myself on the run, I consciously slowed my pace. My next mile came in at an 8:54 pace at a 143 average HR.
Well, to make a long story short, I didn't keep that 9:00 pace. Things generally slowed to about a 10:00 pace. My 6th mile was a 10:49, but that included the only two real hills on the course, up Observatory Drive. I ran them both, the first loop and felt OK doing so. Here are my first half marathon splits and HR with some commentary:
1m: 7:54.78 @ 142 - started strong!
2m: 8:54.72 @143 - consciously slowed pace
3m: 9:28.65 @ 144 - settling in; through Camp Randall stadium
4m: 10:03.75 @ 145 - flat
5m: 10:05.00 @ 142 - flat Lakeshore path
6m: 10:49.01 @ 142 - Observatory hills!
7m: 9:48.75 @ 141 - flat Lakeshore path
8m: 9:43.86 @ 140 - flat Lakeshore path
9m: 9:38.42 @ 139 - flat Lakeshore path
10m: 9:49.86 @ 137 - flat Lakeshore path
11m: 10:25.60 @ 138 - slight hill up to Camp Randall stadium
12m: 10:44.87 @ 135 - flat; starting to show signs of tiring!
13m: 10:53.38 @ 135 - up slight hill of State Street
Each loop of the run included three "turn-around" points, one near mile 2 on the commuter path, one at the middle of State Street, and one at the end of the Lakeshore path, just past Picnic Point. I don't like turn-arounds. They slow me down and I find it hard to get back into my groove. I wasn't looking forward to re-visiting all those turn-arounds in the second loop.
I should point a couple of things out at this point. First, it was definitely warm. I can't say it was hot, but I was thankful for the ice at the aid stations, which were placed almost at every mile. I was running through the aid stations, but grabbing water, sometimes the Perform they offered, sometimes the flat Coke, sometimes the orange wedges, but I always, always grabbed ice. I'd slip off my running hat and dump the ice in there, then bend forward and put my head into the hat so the ice would stay in. In several of the pictures, you can see my lumpy head -- it's because of the ice up there! It really helped keep me cool.
Next, I still feel I was doing well with my fluids and nutrition. I was occasionally grabbing a GU at an aid station and was also occasionally sipping from my electrolyte or Roctane bottles. I didn't experience any bloating or gastro-intestinal issues the whole race.
Finally, as I mentioned in the prolog, due to my stress fracture injury, the longest I'd run in training since mid-May was a 12 miler, and I'd done that just two weeks prior to the event as a stand-alone run. My longest brick run post-injury was only 8 miles. So, by the half-way point, I was both feeling pretty good about myself, having made it that far and still feeling relatively good, but I was also waiting for the shoe to drop. In a "normal" marathon, most people experience a wall between miles 18 to as late as 22 or 24. I feared that my wall was coming sooner than that, ... and I was right.
The turn-around at the half-marathon point brings you within 200 meters of the overall finish. All you'd have to do is stay to the right and continue running down the hill and you'd be there. Instead, you have to stay left, turn-around, and start running back out for another loop. My pace continued to slow, running roughly 10:40s to the point of exiting Camp Randall stadium the second time. This included the miles 14, 15, and 16. It was during those miles that my wall appeared.
Mentally I was having a really hard time for those three miles. I was in a very dark and scary place. However, I knew this time was coming; I'd read about it and I'd heard about it from other Ironmen and Ironwomen. I'd been told to have a clear reason in my mind as to why I was doing this to myself. Why did I want to keep running? I'd thought this all through in the weeks before the event, so I was able to pull those thoughts out of my mental bag and hold them up to myself. Reminding myself, as best I could, why I was out here and inflicting this pain on myself.
As I cleared the mile 16 sign, I emerged from that dark place. I actually felt good for a while, knowing that I'd faced a hard challenge and had passed it. However, when I hit mile 17, something strange happened. Without me consciously thinking about it, I started walking. I'd been running continuously up to that point, even through the aid stations. But, ... here I was, walking. The scary part is that I couldn't motivate myself to start running again until mile 19. Those two miles alone added 10-12 minutes to my finishing time. It happened one more time, for about a quarter of a mile between miles 20 and 21.
In that brief moment, I was doing some quick mental calculations, based on my average pace up to that point and the current time of day. I realized that if I was going to make my minimal goal of finishing in under 12 hours I needed to get running again and stick with it to the end. I started running again at mile 22 and vowed I wouldn't stop until I finished. I clearly remember seeing the markers for miles 23 and 24, but don't recall the mile 25 marker -- I may have been "zoning" a bit to stay focused -- though I had to have seen it to take a run split.
As I came up State Street and around the corner of the Capitol, I thought, "I've got it made, just take it home." I then saw my youngest son and father in-law. My son wanted a high-five and a kiss: I gave him the high five while running past but told him I couldn't stop running now! He was a little disappointed but understood later.
Then, all of a sudden, time evaporated. As I came around the last corner, not more than about 300 meters to go, I could hear Mike proclaiming another athlete as a new Ironman and then he said, "And here come two more, and they're right at the 12 hour mark! Let's see if we can bring them home under 12!" The crowd just erupted. I saw the official clock and it already said 11:59 and some low seconds. In a bit of a panic, I started pushing: I really wanted a finishing time under 12:00.
I'd been told by other Ironpeople that I might get emotional that last mile or so. I wasn't at all, up until the last 10 meters or so. What was going through my mind, and I hope it didn't come out of my mouth, was that, "I effing did it!!!!" I was so happy! I managed to cross the line and just barely, by 13 seconds, meet my goal.
The catchers were there right away, pulling me out of the way and then asking if I was OK. There was a twinge of seriousness in their voices that had me questioning whether I really was, but everything felt just fine at that moment. They asked if I used or would like a chocolate milk (there was a huge campaign about that at this event) and I said, "Yes," so they handed me a milk that I downed in seconds. When they asked if I wanted another, I said, "Can you get me two, ... or three?" So, I stood there and drank my milks. As I did so, they brought over and draped around me a foil "blanket," they said to keep me warm. Here I'd been putting ice in my hat all day to keep cool because of the heat and they wanted to put a blanket on me!? I indulged them, but questioned why I needed this thing (more on that later).
Then they brought over my finishers cap and shirt, which are quite nice, and put the finishers medal around my neck. I've already run several times with my hat, so it's starting to show finger smudges on the brim.
They then said they were going to take me over to have my picture taken. I took my first step and realized I couldn't walk! I think just standing there, for 3-5 minutes, was enough for my muscles to say, "It's finally over! We don't have to do anything anymore!" I actually needed help getting over to the backdrop to have my picture taken.
I then hobbled my way out of the finishing area and to my waiting family. My oldest son made it to me first and I held him in a tight hug and cried for a while. I was so happy to have done this! My partner Rebecca was next and she and I had an even longer embrace and there was more crying on my part. She'd sacrificed as much as I for this to happen. Doing something like this really is a family affair.
Here are my last half marathon splits:
14m: 10:32.62 @ 132 - flat, entering mental "darkness"
15m: 10:18.51 @ 132 - flat
16m: 11:05.25 @ 131- flat, worst of the "darkness"
17m: 10:43.62 @ 132 - small hills, emerging from the depths
18m: 16:23.78 @ 112 - flat, walking
19m: 16:24.60 @ 106 - flat, walking, including Observatory hills
20m: 10:55.15 @ 122 - motivate! flat Lakeshore path
21m: 12:23.22 @ 120 - flat, with another brief walking phase
22m: 10:50.89 @ 122 - time to run it home!
23m: 10:49.99 @ 125 - flat
24m: 11:06.87 @ 127 - small hills back to Camp Randall stadium
25m: 10:56.75 @ 128 - almost done
26.2m: 13:04.96 @ 132 - up State Street and around the Capitol; consistant 10:53 pace to finish!
Run Time: 4:43:56 (10:50 / mile) Division (M40-44): 106 of 448 - 23.66% Gender: 513 of 1,764 (registered) - 29.08% Overall: 593 of 2,453 (starters) - 24.17%
Overall HR Average: 136 (I didn't work hard enough!) Overall HR Max: 164 (the run up Observatory hill) Overall HR Min: 97 (treading water before the swim) Overall Calories: 9,999 (I'm sure it simply maxed the device, so who knows how much I really burned)
For all the statistics nerds out there, RunTri has a great write-up of the event.
Post-Race
Other family members got in there for hugs and congratulations. It was fantastic to have so much family there. Their support was invaluable; I really don't know how I can express my gratitude enough! I was still having troubles walking: my glutes and hip flexors were basically non-functional and there were some aches in the joints, of course. Everyone was totally willing to cater to me and, I soon realized, waiting for me to decide what we were going to do. Rather than staying at the event, I decided to head home.
Most of the family split up in to various cars, but my partner and I were going to pick-up my bike and transition bags first. Knowing it would take me a while, I decided to start walking to the Terrace right away. As I was hobbling along, I was thinking back on the day and all that I'd done to prepare for it, including what I'd overcome (stress fracture) to make the day a reality. I wound up stopping along a railing, with my elbows on the railing and head in my hands and started crying again. If you know me, I'm not a very emotional person, but this was three times now that I was having such a reaction. I went ahead and embraced this one and just let the moment take me.
At some point, my partner moved in beside me and I came back to the present and we walked into the Terrace together. I wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, which thing I wanted to do first. Perhaps sensing my hesitancy, Rebecca suggested I get the free 10 minute massage all the athletes were entitled to. We walked (I hobbled) over and we signed up and the wait was only about 15 minutes. I used that time to go and collect my transition bags and then took a much needed seat. Almost immediately I could hear the chatter of other athletes: "How about that wind?!" "Does anyone have any ibuprofen?" "They missed my runs splits; did you get your run splits?"
As I was sitting there, I realized I was cold! It was a really weird feeling. I still felt somewhat flush and, at least on the surface, warm, if not hot, from my all-day exertions. But I was sitting there feeling cold and actually started shivering. I'd shed my foil blanket before I left the athlete area, but there was a big pile of them near the massage area so I grabbed one and wrapped it around me. They really do help and soon I was no longer chattering my teeth.
My massage was wonderful and I know I got more than my allotted 10 minutes. There had to be about 20 tables in the room, though not all of them were in use at the time. I'm not sure if all those folks were volunteering their time, but I sure appreciated it. I was able to walk a bit better after getting off the table, but it was clear that I was going to be tender for a while.
Several of my training partners praised the hot chicken broth that was offered on the course. I hadn't taken any while doing the event, but they had a big pot full of it in the massage room and I poured myself a glass. I'm a wimp with hot drinks, so needed to let it cool a bit. When I finally had some, and it was OK, but it wasn't a "nectar from the Gods" type of experience that others had described.
We went out and I got my bike out of transition and we headed back to the van in the parking garage across the street. After loading everything up, I climbed into the passenger seat and just sort of melted there, not wanting to move much. Rebecca drove us home.
That Evening
I took a nice long shower when we got home. The warm water helped loosen some muscles and also seemed to help with the stiff joints. After dressing I came downstairs to have some supper. Interestingly, when the catchers directed me to the pizza and sandwiches tent at the finish line, I really had no desire for it at all. I thought I'd want to eat ravenously, but I really didn't have an appetite. I wound up eating a helping of the left-over potato salad from the night before and that was about it. I was drinking an electrolyte drink as well, but really didn't want anything else.
My plan from the beginning was to head back in to the event so that I could catch the midnight finishers. I've repeatedly heard and read about what an inspiring time that is, when all the pro and age group finishers come back out and help the crowds, which grow in size, cheer on those last finishers out on the course. I thought I'd head upstairs, take a quick nap, and then we'd head back into town around 23:00. Well, ... I never got back up. While I'd have liked to have seen the midnight finish, I think staying in bed and sleeping was just what my body needed.
The Next Day
The next morning we were up around 07:00 and got ready and headed back into Madison to attend the athlete's breakfast and to gain access to the finisher's store. The line for the store was over an hour long when we got there, but we decided to stay with it. Luckily it passed through the room where the breakfast was offered, so people would just pop out of line, grab some food, and bring it back and eat while standing there. I managed to enjoy a sausage, egg, and cheese muffin as well as some fruit and then had a chorizo burrito as well.
In the store, the only thing I really wanted to get was a finishers jacket. I've seen several, of all different colors and styles, and really like them. For our event, they had a nice black jacket, made by K*Swiss with orange embroidering (fitting with the orange color scheme for the other event materials). We were fairly quick in the store and then headed back home to pack-up, grab the kids, and drive back home. While I usually drive, and was feeling fairly good, Rebecca took the drivers seat and I enjoyed some more rest as a passenger.
Recovery
We stopped after about 2 hours to grab some lunch at an Olive Garden in Eau Claire, WI. I still really didn't have an appetite, but I enjoyed some iced tea and a nice shrimp pasta. Getting out of the van and walking was tough and I was a little disappointed by that. I was hoping that I wouldn't be or feel this way long. It stayed with me through at least Wednesday morning, with each day getting a bit better: less sore and stiff, both in the morning and throughout the day.
I'd been looking forward to some good sleep on Monday night as I really hadn't gotten any (good sleep) since the Thursday night before I drove down. Unfortunately, I still wasn't getting any. Remember those volunteers who put the sunscreen on? Remember how I said I thought they were doing such a good job and really getting me coated? Well, they didn't. I had some pretty bad sunburn on my back, especially in a crescent shape the was along the area of the curve of my tri suit in the back. Since the burn was on my back and on both shoulder blades, I really couldn't lie comfortably in bed and even lying on my side was painful (it reached down and around to under the arm, likely from when I was on the bike). Starting on Tuesday I was applying doses of Aloe Vera and eventually, but about Friday, the sensitivity was gone.
As for training, I took a couple of days off and then wound up running 6 miles Thursday morning, 9 miles Saturday morning, and then did a 52 km bike ride on Sunday. Since then I've been back into my Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday running routine, though I'm sleeping in on the other days. After a couple of weeks I'll start back on the bike (hopefully outdoors but likely on the trainer), get back into the pool, and start lifting weights. Since I signed up to do next year's event, my training season has already started!
Epilog
The entire Ironman experience has been amazing! From start to finish I have learned so much and had such a wonderful time. I've now got a great fitness and experience base for my next events (yes, there will be more after next years). I actually think it would be fun to do one of these a year, maybe not worrying about my times, just enjoying myself. I know, that sounds a little crazy, but I think it's true. I'm just glad I have a short memory -- I already can't clearly remember how bad it was on the run in those dark moments. :)
I'd like to close by thanking all of those who supported me in doing this, starting with my family: Rebecca, Anson, and Aaron; my extended family: Deb, Joe, Liz, Anna, Jon, Ray, Rosa, Jeff, Julie, Stephanie, Scott, Dan, and Amaya; my training group: Dave, Mike, Chris, Jon, Johnny, Jen, Evan (and others); and my sports Dr.s and PT: Claudia, Rochelle, Scott, and Brenden. You all helped to make my day fantastic!
