The Iron Geek

Have you ever done something that gave you such a sense of accomplishment that it was emotionally overwhelming?  Something that two years ago you wouldn’t have dreamed was even possible?  

While this race was on my schedule merely as a tune-up for Ironman Florida in November, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to complete it.  Ask anyone that knew me two years ago, anyone at all, if they thought I could complete a 70.3 and they would have told you “No way.”  

This guy, the guy that most of my friends in Boston remember, just finished a 70.3 Triathlon.

A little over a year ago I competed in my very first triathlon, a Sprint race at Crowes Lake.  Roughly 200 yards into a 400 yard swim, I had to float on my back because I thought I was going to drown.  It took every ounce of my energy to swim across that catfish pond to the other side.  I struggled on the bike, and basically walked the entire 5K.  I was something like 3rd from last in the entire race.  It was so upsetting, that I didn’t attempt my next triathlon until almost a year later.

Yesterday afternoon I stood in the rain at the finish line in disbelief that I had finished it.  That halfway through the run I was at such a low point emotionally that I had thoughts of cancelling my race in Florida, if not walking out on this race itself.  

But I didn’t.  I pressed on.  Walking a LOT more than I had ever thought would be necessary, but putting one foot in front of the other was all that mattered.  18 months of training 6 days of the week cannot prepare you for the mental fatigue that you go through, and I was surprised by it.  I marched on even though most of my body and mind told me I was INSANE for doing what I was doing.  Let the blisters scream.  Let the legs ache.  Let the back hurt.  That is why they make Aleve.  Keep moving forward. 

Take. It. Down.  TAKE. IT. DOWN!

Preparation

I arrived in Augusta about 11:00 the day before the race and proceeded right to registration.  I met up with a couple of friends from my Masters Swim class and we hung out for about the hour that it took to get through the line (the only really low point of the weekend).  Afterwards I grabbed a bite to eat and headed for the hotel to check in.  I then grabbed my bike gear and swim gear and headed down to the transition area.

First things first, I needed to get in a practice swim in my wetsuit.  While I rented it a week earlier, I had been unable to practice in it due to a last-minute trip to Texas for work.  Thankfully it all worked out well and I got 20-30 minutes of solid swimming up and down river.

Then I took my bike and checked it into the transition area (we had to leave it over night).  My initial plan had been to get in a warm-up bike on Saturday, but it was getting late and I really wanted to drive the entire bike course in the car so I could get a feel for it.  So the bike went to the rack to wait for me until morning.

I then drove the bike course in the car.  It’s funny when you are checking out a bike course that almost everything seems like it’s uphill.  =).  One thing was for sure, those hills at Mile 16 and Mile 32 were no illusion.  They were badass mile-plus-length of tons-o-fun (more on those later).

I then met up with a few friends that had driven to Augusta to support me during the race, Jason (who did Augusta in 2009 and IM Arizona in 2010), his wife Gina and their 3 kids.  We had dinner.  He had found a nice little local Italian place and I ate like it was my job.  Back to the hotel to organize for Sunday and in-bed by 10:15 (after 15 minutes of reading “Your Are An Ironman”)

The next morning was a bit of a blur.  I was up at 5:00 and getting dressed and eating breakfast.  I met Jason just after 6:00.  He had offered to shuttle me around so I didn’t have to take the school bus rides (Thanks Jason!).  

First it was to Transition area to prep for the day.  Towel out.  Running and biking shoes out and ready.  Biking gear ready, and fluids racked on the bike.  Tires were pumped and things were ready to go.

Next I went to the swim start area.  The swim is in a river, swimming with the current (sweet!).  Things were pretty rushed here as I made a bathroom break, put on my wetsuit and headed to wait for my wave.  I only had to wait a few minutes before we walked down to the dock that was facing down the river.

Swim

Since there were over 3,000 people competing, swimmers were started in waves by their age-group.  I’m not sure how many in each wave, but I’m guessing 75-100 people (maybe less).  You walk down on the dock and when the announcer calls, “One minute” and you jump in the water.  It immediately became obvious that the current was going to be a big help, because you had to swim upstream just to stay behind the starting buoys.  

As the horn blared, I shouted “Good Luck Boys!”, to which I got a few anxious “Thanks. You Too.”  It seemed to break the obvious tension in the air.

So we swam.  I focused on taking long slow strokes and trying to stay straight.  For some reason, my wetsuit coupled with my stroke makes me veer to the right.  I freaked out a bit after 5 minutes into the swim, but calmed myself down and just focused on the stroke.

I started to site myself by the guys next to me.  Rather than lifting my head and looking for the buoy, I let them do it.  I still picked up my head every once in a while just to make sure they were on track, but they always were, and it helped calm me down by not worrying about it.

Under the first bridge.  Check.  Under the second bridge.  Check.   See the landing area.  Wow, that was quick!  Keep swimming.  Now swim caps from the next wave start to pass by.  Oh well, I guess that was expected. Keep going.  

Up to the boat ramp.  I stop swimming as soon as I can touch bottom and walk up the hill.  I feel no need to run.  I walk and start to take off the top of my wetsuit.  Boy wetsuit strippers are a great feature! My suit flys off in 3 seconds.  Into transition, I go.  Swim time: 31 minutes.  Goal Time: 45 minutes.

Transition #1

I continue to walk and catch my breath.  I feel good and I don’t want to slip and fall.  I take my time in transition.  I put on dry socks.  I put on my shoes (instead of keeping them clipped to the pedals).  I walk my bike to the exit and mount 10 feet passed the line.  Time in T1: 6:58  Goal Time: 5 minutes.

Bike

I’m feeling very good on the bike.  My swim was much easier and faster than I had feared, and my training over the past two months has focused on the bike.  I had a little trouble in the first 4 miles with my heart rate being high, until I discovered that one of my break pads was rubbing in the front.  I corrected this “in flight”, and was back in business.  One mile later, I had my chain slip off the front ring.  First time ever on this bike.  A quick dismount to adjust and I was back in shape.

The funny thing about a wave swim start that goes by age-group is that it doesnt mean you are grouped by speed.  It went Pros, Youngest-to-Oldest Men then Youngest-to-Oldest Women.  If you are wondering why that matters, it is because all day long on the bike, every 3-4 minutes I would get passed by a pack of 10-20 people.  It was a little nerve racking at first, you would get into a rythem with the smaller group that you are riding with, when this pack would come racing by MUCH faster than you are going, many with crazy-expensive looking bikes.

About an hour in I realized that I was exactly on pace for my goal time and I needed to forget about those crazy people passing me and focus on me.

Going up the hill at Mile 16 was tough.  I was in my easiest gear and it was hard.  By mile 32, I was in my easiest gear and it felt like I was biking through cement.  It was so hard to push the pedals around.  I kept staring down at my deraileur in disbelief that I was really in my lightest gear.

Next came some great rolling hills.  I say great because while many people that were riding at the same pace as me chose to coast down the hills, I was feeling great and pedaled hard down the hills and let the momentum carry me up the hills.  While they would get to the bottom and start pedaling hard in a light gear, I was cresting the hill getting ready for the next.  Some of my fastest miles were logged on the rollers.

In the final 6 miles of the bike, we had become pretty bunched up.  There was maybe 30-40 bikes all doing about the same speed.  What would happen is that the person in front of me would start to coast, and I would have to make the decision to either pass them (to avoid drafting) or coast with them.  We were doing 20-21 miles an hour, so I decided to coast too.  So must have the 15 or so people behind me because no-one passed me.  Overall a great ride.  I was very happy with my time.  Actual Time: 3:15, Goal Time: 3:15 

As a small note, we had a 7 meter draft zone in this race.  I can tell you that very few, and I mean very few people, actually followed the rule.  I only saw one race official the whole day, and that was less than 5 miles into the course.  

Transition #2.  

Not much to say about this transition.  I changed into my running shoes (kept the socks).  I had forgotten to take my visor off my head when leaving transition in the morning, so I was forced to run with no head gear.  Which was probably a good thing because I got a nice tan and those lines would have been funny (and not the first time I would have had them).  I also forgot to take my sunglasses with me.  Actual time 3:48, Goal Time: 5:00

Run

Jason met up with me just as I left transition.  He had his iPhone taking video as he jogged beside me.  He asked me how I was doing, and I said “I feel great!  I’m going to finish this thing!”.

100 yards later I had to stop and walk.  My heart rate had spiked to 175 and I was feeling it.

“It happens.” I thought.  “You went through transition quickly and started to run quickly.  Slow down and let your heart rate settle in before you run again.”  is what I told myself.

I walked for a bit, letting my HR get to around 140 before I started to run again.  Within a minute it was back up to 165.  “Oh that’s not good.”

In the first 4 miles I was probably walking about 50% of the time, and hating myself for it.  I just kept pushing on, but it was hot and my HR just wouldn’t stay down.  At about mile 5 I had taken yet more cold sponges from the aid station.  One for the front of my tri-suit and one for my head.  This time the one on my head all drained into my right shoe.  I knew instantly that blisters would be on their way like ants to a picnic.  It took exactly 2 miles for them to show up.

The run course is a two loop course.  Just after 6.5 miles I passed the finish line, and the timing mat for the second loop.  I was hit with the realization that I had to run everything I had just done a second time.  

It literally brought be to a full stop.  I just stood there, just past the mat, dumbfounded by the idea that I had to do that run again.  It wasn’t that the course was hard, I can’t imaging a flatter run course, it was like running down a hallway.  I just felt dread.  Pure dread of having to do that again.  I can only think of a few times in my life where I have felt emotionally worse than in that moment.  I was devastated.

I thought to myself, “Well Florida for sure as hell isn’t going to happen. No. Friggin. Way.”  I was in a bad place.

I plodded on.  I am now running 25% and walking 75%.  I had a very nice woman run by me and motion to me saying “C’mon.  C’mon!  Let’s GO!”  So I did, and we ran together for what felt like 30 minutes but was probably 10.  I eventually said, “Have a nice run.”  She looked at me long enough to know that I was serious and went on her way.

The same thing happened at 9 miles in.  Another nice woman that I was walking next to said, “Let’s run to the next aid station together.”  So we started running.  The next aid station was 2 miles away, and about halfway there I had to let her go too.  Talk about being chicked. =)

Oh and by the way, for those course organizers that advertise “Aid stations approximately every mile”, I say, “BULLSHIT!”

Now at mile 11 I am probably running 10% of the time.  It’s raining.  While it feels nice and is cooling things down, it’s also making it dreary out, and causing the supporters on the side of the road to take cover somewhere else.  With no one cheering and much fewer of us walking/running together, it’s lonely.  It’s depressing.  I just want this to be over.

The people on the side of the road throughout the daywere amazing.  So many people out there to support not just their friends and family, but people like me.  My favorite sign of the day was “Chuck Norris never did a 70.3”  I know I’m a cheesball, but it made me laugh outloud.

Another special thanks to Jason and his family who drove three hours to support me.  They stood in the rain and were there holding signs and shouting support providing that extra energy.  I am extremely greateful.

I’m coming to the end of the run.  I can see turn into the finish line.  Salvation! This things is about to be over.  Cramp in my right calf.  I have to stop 200 yards from the finish to work it out.  “YOU”VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” is ringing in my head.  It goes away momentarily and I start to run to the finish line.  

Jason, Gina and their kids are there to cheer me on down the chute.  I raise my hands and pump my fist.  The announcer actually pronounces my name right, a first.  I make hang-ten signs with my hands, who knows why.  I cross the finish line without even looking at the time.  I’m on the verge of tears as a very nice woman places my finisher medal around my neck and tells me, “Congratulations.”  Actual Run time: 3:11, Goal Run Time: 3:00.  

Actual 70.3 Time: 7:08, Goal 70.3 Time: 7:00

Even though it’s raining, the finish line is a party.  There is pizza and beer everywhere with smiling faces.  A little rain isn’t going to take this away from people.  High-fives with friends.  Laughter.  Hugs.  All I could think about is how it reminds me of tailgating, only with a medical tent (Sorry Rach!)

I manage to smile for a picture, before sitting on the wet grass and watching my calf muscles jump around to the music that is blaring from the speakers.  They play one of my favorite songs by the Black Keys.  I relax and close my eyes and think…

Took.  It.  Down.