A big goal of mine during a mass swim start is to protect all the parts of my body - especially the important parts. Imagine 2000 people all swimming in the same direction and all wanting to be in the same space at the same time. They call it the washing machine and rightly so. It's brutal out there - legs kicking, arms thrashing and bodies rolling all over the place. I can't tell you how many times I got hit during the first 15 minutes. One guy pummeled me with his arm over and over again. I would try to stay of his way but he kept following me. He wanted to kill me. He must be jealous of me. I guess I don't mind getting hit in the head, I can deal with that - its when you get dunked under or swallow water that things begin to look bad.
Every now and then I would find an empty patch and try to stay there. The swimming felt nice. I can motor at my slow pace forever and it helped that the water was cool. Obviously the wetsuit is a benefit. Incrediby I was staying on track next to the buoys - I really am not good at that. It probably explains why I took such a beating because everybody was hugging the cones. The swim was a two loop course. Halfway through the first loop I was cruising and was pretty sure I was ahead of my estimated time. By the time I finished the first loop I was actually 5 minutes up even though the back half seemed a lot longer. However, that didn't last long. On the second loop I still felt great and had a lot of open water but I guess I slowed down. The back half of the second loop seemed to go on forever. It's
hard to judge how many cones until the turn and you keep thinking you are coming up on the last one. I finally reached the last cone, turned left and swam up to the boat ramp. Almost exactly 95 minutes. How about that!
I love this part. In my mind, this is where the race truly starts. You run up the boat ramp and everybody's hollering and screaming for you. What a trip! Even better are the strippers.
Sorry, honey, the wetsuit strippers. The strippers grab you and knock you to the ground, yank your wetsuit at the top and the two of them roll down your body pulling the suit all the way to your ankles. One last pull and it pops off. They shove it in your arms and send you off. The run to T1 was probably 50 yards which included running up the helix with your wetsuit. I can't tell you how cool this is - spectators are everywhere and they're giving you everything they got. Keep in mind that I was probably 40 minutes behind the pros and they are still going nuts. Even more amazing is it never stops the entire race. Up the helix, over the terrace and into the changing room I go.
I take my time in transistion because I want to make sure everything is perfect before I hop on the bike for next seven hours (or so.) Les and Estuardo crank through at around seven minutes, I'm out in eleven. I get lotioned up good by the sunblock people. When you run out of T1 there are packs of volunteers with globs of sunblock to slather all over the athlete's body. On my left were a couple of dudes and on my right were two fine looking young highly trained and motivated lotion girls. I'm not stupid. I think good thoughts about my baby and put on my right blinker. Afterwards I make the long run in my bike shoes towards my bike which is at the other end of the terrace. Going down the helix was fun. Little did I know that would probably be the most fun I would have all day. I fiddle with my Garmin Forerunner a little bit to get it going and start to focus on the bike ride. At this point I'm on target and I feel good. The nausea in my stomach is still there and stays all day but is never a factor. I try to stay rational and go over the nutrition plan in my head. This part is important to me. I think about my strategy and not get over excited. I have two bottles of fluids in my cages and endurance drink in my aero bottle. The bike stations are supposed to be every 10 miles. I have 5 gels taped to my frame and three sliced up power bars in my basket.
The ride is two loops with a 16 mile back and out. The first 16 was relatively painless. I spent a lot of time getting situated. I hung with a few people and checked out the scenery. I don't remember a lot but I do remember the slow rolling hills. So far the weather was behaving but I knew better. It was early. The past few days started the same way and then got very hot and windy. I remember making the turn onto the loop because we went by the SNB section and I asked somebody where we were. Things started to get a little interesting now. The general format of the bike was rolling hills with 4 "big" hills per loop for a total of 8. The idea was to take it easy the first go around so you can handle the second half. Like I said, that's the idea. I was still feeling good and still on target. I was looking to average 16 to 17 mph and I was at 16.5. The grades were starting to increase and I was vigorous in my attack. I was pleased because the hills weren't too bad - they were very doable and it was good to know that I had trained properly. I also wasn't bothered by the increasing heat because again I was trained for it. I was hoping to take advantage of cooler weather to improve my performance but no big deal. This was fun because it's a good feeling conquering hills and then hitting the downside at 40 mph.
The first big hill is Mt. Holub and it wasn't awful. I was out of my saddle and taking it careful at a good pace. The second and biggest is Old Sauk and I am of the opinion that it should be leveled and crushed. It's 45 miles out, has a 15% grade and plateaus several times. Since we didn't drive the course I had no idea where the big hills started. On Old Sauk you make a sharp right turn and all of a sudden you're going up. Way up. I see a sign that says "Kick this hill's ass!" Uh Oh. I hear a drumbeat and lots of shouting and words of encouragement "You can do it!". This can't be good. Around the 1st curve and you're face-to-face with a huge crowd of spectators and they're all over the road. One guy is dressed as Satan - so not good. Others are sitting in lawn chairs raising hell. It's a feast and I'm the main course. I beat on that hill pretty hard with the help of the spectators. They really make it happen. This image is one of my lasting impressions of the race. People rush you on the bike and you're living a Tour-de-France moment. They shout you up the hill as they crowd around and run up with you. It's a grind but its so awesome. God bless those people.
There was another hill shortly after and I don't know if it was one of the big 4 because it was so short but it comes out of nowhere and feels like its straight up. One group of spectators must have been a swim team because they were in their bathing suits cheering us on. The girls in their bikinis - very nice, the guys in their speedos - gross.
Towards the end of the 1st loop and after many more hills I could feel a slight hint of fatigue. It was full-on hot now and the wind was blowing. I hit the town of Verona which really gets into this race. That was another fun part of the bike ride - crowds going nuts and giving lots of love. A few miles later and I'm at the beginning of the loop again and I stop to graze through my SNB. I tried to eat my sandwich but it wouldn't go down. It was warm and gooey and just didn't taste good. Next time I'll freeze the sandwich beforehand. I filled my aero bottle with my endurance drink and left after a 5 minute break.
Soon I did a reality check. There was no way I was going to finish the bike in the estimated time. I also knew that I would be tapped after the bike and my run was going to suffer. It was at this time that I knew I was going to have a really tough day. The problem was the wind. It was killing me. I remember riding on a flat highway and I couldn't get over 12 mph. It was so grinding and demoralizing. This was supposed to be the easy part. You fight these hills all day and you're hoping to take a break on the flats but it never comes. My nutrition plan was barely hanging in there. I couldn't swallow any food because my body was rejecting solids. I put a power bar in my mouth and it just sat there for about five minutes. As hard as I tried I couldn't make it go down. I had to cut over to a heavy liquid plan and take a limited number of gus. The gel also made me sick to my stomach. Another problem was the distance between bike stations. I was positive the race info said every 10 miles but in reality it was between 15 - 18 miles. Post race I saw a lot of complaining online about this. The wind combined with heat can do a number on your body and I was desperate to keep myself hydrated. I was going through the liquids fast and I was OK but remember that I have to think ahead and make sure I'm ready for a 26 mile run. When I finally came up to a bike station I would rest for a few minutes, stock up on Gatorade and pour water over my head. One station was out of Gatorade and another out of water. That's bad and they need to fix that.
Due to the fact I'm out of the water late I have the opportunity to catch up to some of the slower riders. I've never seen so many bodies by the side of the road in a race. Towards the end I saw people swerving or cramping up and falling off their bikes. Several were throwing up and couldn't go on. A lot of folks were taking a ride on the sag wagon. I heard later that this Ironman had the highest dropout rate (22%) of any large North American race.
Les caught me at mile 90 right after my second trip up Old Sauk which, by the way, was not as invigorating as the first. According to my calculations that was a little early. We knew I would be out the water at least 10 minutes before him but he would catch me on the bike. We figured this would be a running race between the two of us. He's better on the bike and we are comparable on the run even though I would give him the edge. Estuardo was the wild card. It was safe to say that he would crush us on the bike but we had no idea where he was with his run training. Anyway, Les looked a little to damn peppy for his own good. I asked him how he was doing and he said that he felt "OK", dropped a gear and dusted me. I hate that guy. Visions of the back seat are fading away. I tried to hang with him for a few minutes but then we hit that small vertical hill I mentioned earlier and I crumbled. Les blew up the hill and was gone. I guess when you weigh less than my 10 year old daughter then that stuff is easy.
Climbing that little hill was probably the single hardest point of my race. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to the top. Once I got there I was toast. This is worse than I thought. I kept going but now I was just coasting. It was here that I wondered if I would even finish the race. Usually I'm psyched to get off the bike and run. I'm confident in my running abilities and feel comfortable dictating a pace. Now now. I couldn't even comprehend how I was going to run 26 miles much less finish the bike. There one was hill in particular that I don't remember on the 1st loop but it was nasty - it just kept going and going.
I kept pushing forward and stopped trying to think about my condition. I rooted around mentally and found a little more energy. What else was I going to do? Stop. There were a few more nasty hills that hurt a lot but I kept moving forward. Lots of praying. Lots of positive thinking.
Weird thing though. On the last 15 miles, I went into some type of recovery mode. I got a burst of energy and flew home. I attacked the helix up the terrace, threw my bike at the volunteer and ran into T2. I recall telling the volunteer that she could keep my bike and sell it on eBay. Pretty cool on that burst of energy. It gave me momentum to stay confident about the run. Like I said, lots of prayer. Also, I know I had family and friends out there silently rooting for me.
Last comment on the spectators and volunteers. I can't say enough good things about those people. How they can sit out there for hours and cheer for people they don't know is a mystery to me. I could never do it. Only one little beef. I think when they go to spectator school they are told to lie. The stuff they say when you are out there all alone. Some of the whoppers I heard on the road - "It's the last big hill" or "It's 3 miles of downhill from here" and the biggest lie of them all - "you're looking good!" I'm still looking for those 3 miles of downhill.
Anyway, I run into T2 and there's Les loading up and heading out the door. I talk to him briefly and he's gone. Estuardo is getting ready in the corner and I think we chat for a second. He takes off in his Captain Fantastic silver unisex triathlete suit. I think you get those free when you buy a copy of the American Flyers DVD. Cape not included. Again, I take my time. I drink lots of water and hose myself down. I stick a couple of band-aids on my toes, change outfits and put on my running shoes. I can't find my lotion girls so I lube up the precious parts and head for the door. For the record - I'm not feeling so hot. I get a little motivation from the crowd outdoors but for the moment I'm out of gas. I can't even fathom 26 miles. I'm not sure if its the miles or the knowledge that I'm going to be out here at a minimum of 5 more hours. That's a really long time from my perspective. But, what can I do - so I put one foot in front of the other and shuffle down State Street. The run is also two loops with the second loop starting within ten yards of the finish line. I'm sure most folks would tell you this is one of more cruel aspects of Ironman. At mile 13 you can feel the finish line, you can hear the crowd and you're taken right up to end and then you have to turn around for another 13. It's either demoralizing to the point of failure or more motiviation to finish the race. Luckily I've been able to use it as motivation in the past. I still don't know the course that well but I know that you run down State Street, through residential areas, around town and through the university which apparently backs up to the Capital building. Sort of a full circle within a circle.
God, I hurt! I'm only one mile out and away from downtown and already I start to walk. My legs can't sort themselves out and I feel really washed out. It's hard to explain the feeling. I move along with a lot of racers all shuffling to a different pace. I run into Estuardo and he looks like me. I don't like walking so I start a slow run to see if I can make something happen. Something has to give. I keep this up for another two miles and it occurs to me that I don't feel any worse. I don't feel better either but that's OK and I take it as a positive sign. I'm looking for crumbs right now. We run through the University of Wisconsin football stadium which was pretty cool but the grass surface is spongy and I don't like it. I'm ultra-sensitive right now so I opt to walk through it. I stop at every aid station on the mile and regain myself. I drink the orange Gatorade, a glass of water and maybe some pretzels. I use a soaked sponge on my neck to keep it cooled down. You see, its still hot. The sun is going down and the wind is gone but the humidity stays behind. I'm wearing a dark blue heavy wicking shirt and I'm regretting it. Who would have thought I would need less. I actually brought several long-sleeve shirts for those chilly Wisconsin nights. Maybe I'll get to wear them someday in Florida for those oh-so-chilly days. Maybe next time I'll be a little smarter. Maybe someday I'll know where Wisconsin is.
I'm pleased that I can drink the Gatorade. I'm not a big fan of their normal stuff but this was their new endurance version which apparently contains additional electrolytes and sodium. It actually tastes good and its not the same stuff they served on the bike. I'm assuming they learned that Ironman triathletes start to get violent after drinking the same crap for over ten hours. So, I'm surviving. I do all my mental math and assess my situation. My situation is that I'm very unhappy, angry at carbohydrates and so so tired. But I am still moving in a general forward direction. My legs actually start to show a little life at around mile four. They're probably waking up to tell me I suck. I can't say I blame them. Little positive thoughts start to float around in my tiny pea-brain and tell me that maybe I can finish this. I do the right thing and start setting small realistic goals. "Get to the turn-around and you are 1/4 of the way there" or "once you hit 13 you're halfway home." I focus on 2 mile chunks hoping to peel off those 26 miles into palatable chewy bites. Its always worked before and it maximizes my math abilities all at the same time. Good for my body, good for my smartniss. There is a large very steep hill at the University called Observatory Hill around mile 5 (and 18). The view at the top is a spectacular panaromic of the lake. It was really pretty. You should walk up that hill sometime. I did.
The final mile before the turn-around was right down the middle of State Street which seems to be the college downtown. Lots of bars and outdoor cafes. The place was rocking and everybody was having a great time cheering on the athletes and if I was to guess, drinking lots of beer. I was jealous because it was cooling off and it seemed to be a great night for sitting outside enjoying a cold one. That, or run 26 miles - whatever floats your boat. You have to run up the street and back down again after going over the sensors. It's great fun because everybody is flowing with you and the little kids are chasing and asking for high fives. There's two stops on this section and I hit them both. The crowd fires me up but you have to be real careful here. You can't get to crazy and exceed your pace or you'll blow up. I've learned the hard way. You have to learn how to focus the energy you get from the crowd and hold on to it because they'll be gone in the next few miles. I ease out of State Street and head down towards the lake. They really designed this course well - everything gets your attention and takes your mind off the pain. If its not the crowds then its the scenery. Now I'm running next to the lake and through the campus. I've locked into my pattern now, I run for a mile, stop at the aid station and take in lots of fluids. I'm still having problems with solids but I am slowly able to swallow grapes, orange slices and the occasional pretzel. Everything seems to agree with me and that's great news - hardly any stomach problems at all. I continue in this mode for the next several miles which are uneventful. As I start to get close to the half-way point I start mentally preparing myself for the crowds and the turn-around. As I mentioned earlier, being so close to the finish and the crowd telling you that you made it, then to only have to turn around for another 13 miles is hard. You have to ignore everything and everybody and just keep your head down. I approached the finish chute and then took the quick left back out on to State Street without even looking up. The way I was feeling I didn't need to see anybody crossing the finish line - ugh! This is one point where the crowd is not welcome. I think I heard one guy say "You can do it, it's three miles of downhill from here." I'm going to crush that guy's skull.
Sometimes I get chatty in a long event where I know my pace is not going to improve. I'll grab somebody that is obviously anxious to talk with me and chew their ear off for awhile. It helps me burn off the time and I know that it makes their day. One the many things I ask God while I'm running is for something to help me take my mind off the race. Any distraction will do. God thinks he's funny and makes me talk to Erika.
Erika is a trip. Erika is from Wisconsin. Erika doesn't shut up. That girl can talk. As a matter of fact, I have it on record that she can talk non-stop for at least 3 hours solid while running. I think I said a grand total of ten words, four of which consisted of "I have to pee." Erika also knows the entire population of the island of Wisconsin. When she wasn't talking to me she was waving and shouting out to anybody that was within a 100 yard radius. It was amazing, who doesn't this gal know? Also, Erika was a retired rugby player and kick-box instructor. I knew I was safe. I started looking for the guy that was bashing in my head on the swim. I was going to have my girl do a beat-down on his head for messing with me. Oh man, bless her heart. She was a great running buddy for the next 13 miles. We kept each other going and stayed positive the whole time. As we hit the second loop we were both incredibly fatigued. Now its dark and everything takes on a new perspective. We hit the stadium again and this time I run through it even though the grass still isn't to my liking.
I don't remember a lot of excitement on the second loop. We were just trying to make it to the next aid station one mile at a time. Our goal was to keep running and only walk on the big uphills and the aid stations. I think its safe to say that I am running on empty at this point. I've been here before and this is where you dig deep and just keep pushing forward. I'm way way off my ETA but I gave up on that a long time ago. Not to keep it negative but its worth commenting on all the casualties piling up on the sides. Too many athletes had succumbed to the heat and the unexpected battle on the bike. Some people were passed out and others were creating little PowerBar piles. I really feel bad for them. I know they want to finish as bad as I do and they've gone through hell to get here. Erika shouts encouragement and threatens bodily harm if they don't keep going. Why do you think I'm still moving?
There were also lots of positive on those last 13 miles. With Erika as a running companion, I had renewed faith that I was definitely going to finish this race and finish it under cutoff. When there is a distraction and good conversation, I can go forever. The run down State Street was even better the 2nd time. It was not as crowded but still had a great vibe. Erika knew the area and offered all sorts of good information about different parts of the campus. I can't remember any of it now but it sounded good then. We ran by the lake and down that long stupid path afterwards. That long path really blows - it looks like a quick turn-around but is just long enough to tick you off. Anyway, we kept it going through the streets and up and down that miserable pedestrian bridge somewhere between the finish line and hell. We run through more neighborhoods and kept our groove. I'm not paying a lot of attention to the mile markers and I've lost perspective on time and distance. My Forerunner died awhile ago - something about the battery only being good for 14 hours (I guess I'm not going to do this race in under 8 hours.)
Then it occurs to me. You know what - I think I can smell the finish line!
I am a native Floridian and I have been competing in triathlons for over ten years. I Love the competition and the challenge. Ironman Wisconsin 2005 was my third Ironman and umpteenth triathalon. I have done Ironman Florida in Panama City twice and was marginally pleased with the results. I don't get too hung up on my times. I only obsess 99% of the day about my results. Standard stuff.
