Ironman AZ Race Report

Short version: 1 year of training, 1 day of hell, finished a grueling race without a visit to the medical tent (i.e. could have pushed a bit harder) but also way better than I thought I would be able to do. 10 hours 9 minutes 36 seconds. (My goal was anywhere around 11 hours). This was good for 169th place out of 2200 people who started the race.

Normal Paul Race report version:

Someone once told me that races are nothing more than an event where you can show off how hard you have trained, and I think that an ironman represents this more than any other type of event, except for the clause that in an ironman, the man with the hammer can visit anyone at any time and end their day. Well trained or not. The more I am involved in endurance sports, the more I appreciate the work ethic it takes to be good at these events. You can’t fake it, you can’t walk up to the start line and “gut it out”. It may not be your day even if you are well trained, but it will never be your day if you are not. For all of you who do not know what an ironman entails: 2.4-mile swim, a running transition from your swimming stuff to your biking stuff (usually entails a 200 yard to 1000 yard run). Biking 112 miles, a transition from biking to running, and then a marathon (26.2 miles). They call it a triathlon, but some people consider it a quadathlon. Swimming, Biking, Running, and Eating. Due to the distance and length of this race, fueling your body is as important if not more important than your physical ability to propel your body those distances. To most people this is a task so daunting that anyone will meet you with responses like “are you crazy”, “that can’t be good for your body”, “why would you do that when you can sit on your couch”, “hey do you know that they invented cars?” Ironically these questions actually enter your mind more and more as the race approaches.

I signed up for the race in march of 2008 after completing the Oceanside 1/2 ironman (this is a unique race because it has 50 slots for every ironman that finishers of this race can sign up for assuming their times were good. I had trained for this race but nothing like what I was about to be in for.... (For instance, the 56-mile bike I did in March was the longest bike ride of my life at that point....) My friends Nate, Carl, Dave, Anthony, and Casey had signed up for the Arizona Ironman on November 23rd, and so I picked that one. Signing your name and agreeing to pay $475 to put your self in this debacle was an interesting flash in my life. Why do I want to do this? Can I do this? What is my motivation? That is a lot of money.... But I signed up when I felt like hell from completing my first half ironman in 5:00:15. I was sore, tired, and in a lot of pain, but something inside made me raise my hand when they asked who wanted in for the race, I sort of smiled and looked at my friend john who had come to watch us do this race with a confused but confident expression.

8 months later I found myself on a cot in a room with Nate and Carl reading a few pages of a book on the Saturday night before the race in Tempe AZ. I knew I wouldn’t sleep that night, but we all tried. I remember feeling jealous of Nate as he immediately was sleeping and snoring when the lights went off. Nate had already done one, and so I think he was a bit more relaxed than Carl and I as it was our first. I laid on my cot and tried not to get too nervous about the race and actually not sleeping is more of an inconvenience than anything else, it would help to be well rested, but the stuff you need for the race is not very dependant on the 8 hours before hand. I had done all of the distances before on their own, I knew I had put in a lot of time in preparing, but I was not feeling ready physically. I went to bed feeling sluggish and not like a spring compressed ready to explode...

I tend to get large knots in my shoulder blades from my posture, sleeping, clenching my teeth, stress, or something that I do. And of course I developed one on the plane ride down to AZ. I tried to work it out and stretch it, but it was getting worse. On Friday morning we had done a practice swim in Tempe town lake where the race starts, after a 20 minute swim in 65 degree water, I went to see some of the free physical therapists, some guy had me doing some stuff where I pulled my neck to the side as he massaged my neck, I was pulling and then I heard something snap...my mid back popped, and I had some serious pain. It went from a 2 out of 10 to an 8 out of 10. I went back to someone else immediately but they could not do anything. I spent the next two days trying to calm it down, as I knew I was in trouble with this much pain. Through ice, heat, and a better therapist we found the next day I was able to get it down to about a 4 out of 10 by race morning, but I was still very worried about how this knot was going to affect me.

On Saturday we checked our bikes and our transition bags in, you check and recheck, and then leave all of your stuff at the race start so it is ready the next day.... bikes like you have never seen before. (There are 2600 people signed up for the race....logistical nightmare) I have been to a few big races now, but if you ever want to develop some self-esteem / body issues go to an ironman. You look around and everyone is lean, ripped, and looks like they could do one of these every day. You feel fat, under trained, and unsure about your self. (Or at least I do) you get nervous about it, and you ask yourself, maybe I am not ready for this, I don’t look like they do....that 55 year old guy could kick my ass, that guys bike is way better than mine, etc. The truth of the matter is that a lot of the fast people are indeed ripped and have fast bikes, but after completing some of these things, I have realized that looks can be very deceiving, fast looking people are often not so fast, and some slow looking people will make you cry for mommy. Triathlons do have an extraordinary amount of geeks (tri-geeks). These are people who eat organic rutabaga roots and have a condescending attitude for the rest of the world who does not see the reason to be as cool as they are, they wear spandex around all the time and will tell you how their bike is better than yours. They ask you very competitive questions and judge your results, your answers, and your bike (tri geeks love bikes). I stuck to my jeans, my corduroy hat (hot in the Tempe sun) and my new “peace in the valley” shirt from this years Spyeglass invitational. We deemed these people “donkeys, and more specifically tri-donkeys” we will eat their lunches or at least watch them eat our lunches but smile knowing we will be eating chocolate, drinking beer, and going to in and out burger the second we are done, and they will be stretching and entering their times in a spreadsheet that cross references their diets and their tire pressure with their satisfaction with themselves.


Back to the cot. Nate, Carl and I got up at 4:45. I had banana bread with dark chocolate chips (thanks Melissa!), a banana, and some Gatorade. We grabbed our wetsuits and headed down to the start about 5:45. I have never been witness to so much nervous energy; picture a dark pre dusk morning with 2600 (type A) people running around trying to rethink if they have everything ready for the race. Putting on your wetsuit, pumping up your bike tires, checking your bike nutrition, finding sunscreen, finding a bathroom (not a pretty site at any of these races). Everyone handles themselves differently on race morning, some are calm and quite, others try to help as many other people as possible to not have to think about it, others get testy or panicked...I find that I am pretty calm before these races, I usually am spaced out and forget something, but I think that sort of is who I am in normal life too, I don’t sweat the details too much which often leaves me without a hammer and holding a box of nails, but it also has prepared me to assume I will totally screw something up and figure out how to deal with it, so when things go awry, it is more expected than a freak out session.

This time I actually had the important stuff, wetsuit, goggles and swim cap. The sun was coming up when they said we could get into the water, I was trying to stay close to Nate who had done one before and who basically tutored me and helped me along with all things triathlon for the last 2 years (literally he made all of this possible for me, sort of similar to how you thought you studied hard in high school....until you get to college, I thought I trained until I met Nate.) He is a slightly faster swimmer than me and so I figured if I could hang with him for as long as possible I would be doing well (assuming I didn’t over work to do this). He was in his own mode pre race, but was cool with letting me tag along with him. Dave Mercer and Carl were also with us, Dave is the resident bike expert so he helped me pump my tires and check my bike one last time, I borrowed some sun screen from some German dude, sprayed it on, and Dave zipped up my wet suit. We walked down near the water (65 degree water that is nasty....it is illegal to swim in this lake on every day of the year except the race day...not a good sign). I was about to ask Nate when we should jump in when he just dove off the side of the lake into the water, so I followed, it was cold, but the wetsuit makes it palpable. Since we had been up since 5:00 drinking Gatorade, most peoples first move is the bathroom...yes 2600 people in a cesspool lake going to the bathroom....great. We worked our way up to the front of the swim start and jockeyed for position as the rest of the people got in and tried to make it to the front. Nate said we should go to the front as we are above average swimmers. By this time we had lost Carl and Dave, Nate and I hung onto a kayak so we wouldn’t have to tread water. This race is a mass start, 2600 people all in one big wave........I was surprisingly calm. I was really happy about being calm, and sort of surprised. There is a lot of hype surrounding an ironman, but when you are floating at the start looking at the sun come up over some rigid siluettes of desert mountains, you realize that life is a pretty cool thing, and I realized at that point that I was simply prepared for the day, I knew I could have trained harder, rode more miles, run much much more (I was injured all summer with a foot injury), swam longer swims, ate better, slept more, not have so many scoops of ice-cream or glasses of red wine, but I also knew that I have a job, a life, and a sweet tooth, and that is just who I am. I also knew that I had run a 3:19 marathon after riding my bike 15 miles to the race start because I felt like doing it. That I had ridden my bike with Nate and Carl and Sarah and Dave over 5000 miles in the past year. Rode my bike with Nate from Minneapolis to Webster Wisconsin (134 miles in over 9 hours), that I had swam roughly 3-4 days a week 3400 yards at a crack for the past year, that I had practiced eating and drinking different stuff over the last year. That I had finished 2nd, and 3rd in smaller triathlons this summer. I thought about what I had sacrificed to be floating in the water at this point in time in my life, and I just felt this calm.

First the national anthem, then some cheers, and some kayak trying to push us back, and then the gun sounded. Picture 2600 people standing next to each other, than all of a sudden, lying down together. Where there was once room, now there are feet kicking your stomach, and your feet are stuck under someone's chest. After a bit you plane out and are in this blender of brown water, arms, legs, and heads. I was next to Nate and sandwiched between another guy. I am not the straightest of swimmers so I was bouncing between them until I took an elbow from Nate in the goggles (my fault not his). This smacked my right goggle off of my face and I was forced to stop, refix my goggle and start again. This meant I got hit in the back of the head by about 3 people while stopped, and then had to sprint to try and catch Nate again...I couldn’t find him so I just gave up on my plan of staying with him and tried to take it easy. The swim goes 1.1 miles along the shore, and then 1.3 miles back on the other side of the lake. I just swam as easy and long (long smooth strokes) as I could. I really suck at going straight, so I tried to look up as much as possible...(looking up slows you down) but not too much, I kept thinking to myself to only go at a pace I could keep up all day. A few times I swam hard to try and catch someone's feet (if you swim right be hind someone it is much easier (like drafting in race cars)) I was so bad at going straight that I couldn’t even do that well, so after a few attempts I just swam in open water and kept my cool. I could feel my calves getting tight and I got really worried that they would cramp on the run If they were this tight already. My back and shoulder were really tight but didn’t affect me as much as I thought they would. Nate had told me to really try and enjoy the day and every once in a while look around and take it in. He told me to take a few backstroke strokes and look behind yourself once in the swim to see all the people behind you. I did that once, and it was truly a site to see.....unfortunately after a few strokes I realized that I didn’t want these people to catch me so I flipped back over and kept going (but it was an awesome site to see 2000 people swimming). I turned the last corner and had 200 yards to go, I had to pee and didn’t want to waste time in the bathroom, so I stopped kicking and tried to go in the water, it was not easy and I probably lost 30 seconds because I almost had to stop swimming, but got the faucet rolling and then swam to the finish, I got out of the water an looked at my watch...59 minutes. My swim coach figured I could do about a 1:05, so I was pretty surprised, I expected to see about 1:04 -1:06 on my watch due to the fact I swam in open water most of the time and swam so crooked...I didn’t feel like I was swimming fast but I also knew that I really didn’t try. I don’t mean that I didn’t try, but I swam at about 75% of what I would have swam if all I had to do that day was a 2.4 mile swim. I got out of the water and was wobbly and disoriented (which is normal) but I really felt great. I didn’t stress out about the 59 minutes because I knew I didn’t push. My only concern was my calves.

There were about 30 people who would strip your wetsuit off and hand it to you, then a run to a line of bags where you were given your transition bag you had packed the night before. You then run into a tent, sit down on a chair, and someone helps you dump your bag out, put on your bike stuff and put your swim stuff back in your bag so you can get it later. It took me 6:50 seconds to do this transition......not good. Nate did the swim in 58 minutes, and the transition in 3:50...so the people watching us, saw Nate and I run into the tent a minute apart and then Nate come out..........................................................and then Paul. I decided to wear tall compression socks for the bike and the run to keep the sun off of my skin and because I had worn them in some training rides and runs and liked how they felt. It took me some time to get them on wet legs and some time to get my shirt and all of the food into the pockets of the shirt. I also made a move to wear a long sleeve shawl.....yes a shawl. I wore this for one main reason...sunburn and body temperature. All of the races I have had issues with had something to do with elevated body temperature. I also thought that if I was in the sun for 11-12 hours, that energy would be taken to try and heal the damage done to the skin by the sun, so why not let the shall take care of that. It was white and has SPF in it. Anyway. I got all of that on, grabbed my bike and made it out to start the bike. At this point I heard john yell “Krum dog” and I was on my way.

About my bike. Nate had sold me his old triathlon bike, which I had ridden on for the beginning of the year, but for this race, I was riding a Keen K (Keota) Full Carbon Triathlon bike with Carbon Tri-spoke wheels. This set up is worth about $7,000. My friend John Larson at Team Ortho was kind enough to let me use this bike. I have been racing with Team Ortho all summer and working with John on growing team ortho. Spyeglass rents some of our space to team ortho in our shop, and donates some of our time and equipment to help them put on races. John was kind enough to let me use this bike for the last few months so that I could get used to riding it. (You need to get really comfortable with the bike you are riding in an ironman. It probably took me 700 miles to get his bike to feel like my bike. My wrists hurt for the first 12 hours, my back and neck for the next 12, etc. So it was not like he just let me use it for the day. It will be sad to give it back as it is like owning a trans am, borrowing your dad’s new corvette, then having to give it back and drive around the trans am again. The bike made a big difference in my race and my training, so to john and team ortho, thanks for everything.

I had a plan for the bike (which I had put together from talking with Nate, Sarah mercer, and Dave mercer who were very instrumental in preparing me for this race. Sarah had helped me with my training and had sent me some great articles to read on how to approach an ironman...one of the key things that stuck with me was an article she sent me called “moron pacing” which talked about how morons get in trouble in these races...and that morons are typically younger fit males.... The phenomenon is that said young fit male trains his but off (check) and tapers (reduces training volume to let your body recoup) (check) before the race and then feels so great on race day that they take off like a bat out of hell on the swim, and pass everyone on the bike in the first 60 miles only to come to a crawl at the end of the bike and the run because they picked an effort level that they could not sustain. I decided this would not be me...but I can totally see why it happens, you have been doing 1/3rd of what you are used to for the last 3 weeks up until race day, and your body is freaking out. You get achy, moody, tired, groggy, and you feel like you are worthless, then on race day, you feel like superman and you are unstoppable.

The bike is a 3-loop course of 37 miles. It goes out of Tempe, a sort of slight up hill towards this peak/ridge, and then backs into town. The wind was blowing down hill. My plan was to ride the first loop super slow and easy, then on the second loop try a bit harder, and then on the third loop maintain 2nd loop effort allowing my heart rate to creep a bit higher but my main focus was to eat and drink.

Loop #1 Bike: I rode the first out part into the wind at a high turnover (pedal cadence) but at a low effort level. I took my computer off my bike so I wouldn’t worry about speed or anything else, I only had my watch which I had a clock and my Heart rate showing. I checked my watch every few minutes and sometimes more often and maintained my HR at 130. If it crept up to 135 I would slow down (no matter how many people passed me) and if it were 126 I would put out more effort. (Just as a reference, when I passed out in the twin cities marathon I started the race at 145 and passed out at 185...on normal runs I run at 155, normal bikes between 120-150) It felt really slow because of the slight incline and the head wind, but I didn’t worry about it. I ate and drank as much as I could stomach to try and keep hydrated. There were aid stops every 10 miles so I would grab one Gatorade bottle and one water at each one and put the Gatorade on my bike and dump the water on my long sleeves, my back and in my helmet to cool down. This I think was key to my race as it kept me cool. I also think that keeping my HR low allowed me to eat and drink a ton where I know from past experience, when my HR gets too high (working too hard) your body doesn’t want to take in food and drink because your stomach sort of shuts off so your blood can focus on the muscles working so hard and this will bite you in the ass in a race that lasts 11 hours because the food you eat at 10AM will get you through the run at 4pm..... I got to the turn around and realized how bad the wind was.....once I turned around it was awesome, downhill with a tailwind all the way back to Tempe. I kept looking at my hr, and I maintained the effort at 130 however now I was probably going 33 mph and flying by people. Again, if I pushed too hard I would slow down, but I would assume I averaged 16 mph on the way out of town, and 26 on the way back. I had a goal time of a 5:30 bike split for the 112 miles, but when I got about a mile from the finish of loop one, I realized my first loop split was going to be about 1:45 which was about 5 minutes faster than I was planning. This is where moron pacing came in to play, I thought about it, and if I stuck to my original plan of trying harder on the second loop, I would potentially do a 1:40, but if I maintained that 130 HR I would do a similar split which would result in about a 5:15 bike, which was 15 minutes faster than my goal. And it didn’t require me to try harder and raise my chances of bonking later or not being able to take in food and drink on the remaining two loops. The bike is about fueling and conserving energy for the run. Rounding the turnaround cone and heading back out to the hills I saw our support crew cheering, which was a nice sight to see, you can see it in their eyes how you are doing and I think many of them were surprised to see me where I was.

Loop#2 Bike: I made the decision to maintain my 130 HR because I was afraid of the run, and I knew if I could pull a 5:15 bike at 130 HR that would be a good thing for my run. Every time I wanted to go faster, or pass some jackass that passed me, I would tell myself “it is not a bike race” “it is not a bike race” “it is not a bike race”. Loop #2 hurt the legs a bit more than loop one, but my HR stayed at 130 and my time was a bit slower. I did stop at a biffy to go to the bathroom, and ironically when I got out my friend Carl was waiting to go in. I was like “hey buddy” and that was that. Carl is a better biker than I so I was sort of riding scared that he was going to blow by me on the way back to Tempe but I never saw him. Since this is a full race report I cannot leave out the fact that my butt/crotch was killing me by loop 2. The copious amounts of chamois butter (crème to help from chaffing) had all but evaporated and I was having some trouble getting comfy. Sarah always says that no seat is comfy for 112 miles, but I hated life. I think it actually helped me because I had to stand up sit down move around so much that my muscles never got over cooked in one position. But it is a part of the day.... I would have paid 1 million dollars for more chamois crème, and if I ever do it again will bring some with me. Again I ate and drank as much as possible. I gobbled up some special yam/peanut butter/honey sauce that I made the night before (thanks to Melissa for the recipe and thanks to Johnny and Tara Winchell for letting me make a mess at their house at 11:00 pm to concoct said concoction) and ate some gels and cliff blocks when I could get them down. Part of this race is all about your stomach...so burping and farting and throwing up in your mouth is sort of part of the deal and most of the times you are just wishing for any of those to happen because you feel like a balloon. I had also read an article that said that most people screw up these races by doing the wrong thing based on how they feel. It said when you feel strong most people speed up...but you should really stay at the same pace and EAT. And when you don’t feel like eating, you should slow down until you do.... so I was feeling good and instead of going faster, I ate and drank as much as I could. I started having to sit and stand more on loop two due to the seat rubbing issues but also because I didn’t want my back and leg muscles to lock into one position. I tried to stand up and pedal once every 10 minutes and even into the wind I did it. It probably cost me time, but the theory is 10 minutes faster on the bike could cause you 40 minutes on the marathon. I rounded the cone again in Tempe, saw the support crew all in different clothes (they went for a run between loops) and headed back out of town.

Loop #3 bike: The good of the loop course...you know what you’re in for. The bad.... you can see the end of the race 2x before you can be done, you are right there and now you have to turn around and do it again...

I headed back out of town and started to feel a bit rough in the legs, so again I maintained my 130 HR and figured I would just be ok with a much slower loop. I hit all the aid stations and my plan was to eat a ton on the way out of town so I could settle my stomach for the last 40 minutes on the way back into town and not have a bunch of solid food in my gut sloshing around. By this point of the bike, since it is a loop course, the course was full of people (some on their 1st loop going 10 mph, some on their second loop going 15, and some on their 3rd that maybe were slow swimmers and fast bikers going 20 mph. Passing and not getting in a crash became a concern, plus you and everyone else is wobbly and tired so mistakes happen. I stayed clear of some shaky situations, ate and drank and kept dowsing myself with water whenever possible. About 4 miles from the turnaround Carl passed me, told me to “buck up buckaroo” as I told him to “go get me”. We ended up actually teeter tottering for a while and talking a bit. It is illegal to draft (even though we saw a bunch of people riding in packs (cheating) looking over their shoulder for the referees.... sad but it happens) or to ride side by side, so we sort of just ebbed and flowed up the hill. Once we got to the actual part that would qualify as a hill, Carl took off like he normally does on our training rides (he is a hill master). Being a tad larger I am anything but a hill stud. I also was not going to deviate from my plan of 130 HR so I backed off and watched him put some time into me. There is a big mental part to this race, which involves checking your ego at the door. Being a guy that likes to be good at stuff, as well as good friend with Nate and Carl and Dave, there was a large part of me that wanted to hang with Carl and Nate that wanted to show myself that I could bike with him.... even though I really know I can’t. We have a competitive spirit between us, but it is in a very positive way. I want to do really well in the race, but with them, not against them. So I remember at that point thinking to myself, I have to do what I have to do, and that is independent of what they are doing, or anyone else for that matter, I want to beat them in the same way I would like to chip in for a birdie on the golf course to beat someone, not to hope they double bogie so I can win. I remember that the thought of chasing Carl, or Nate when I saw them spiked my HR up to the 140’s because my instincts made me try harder...and I knew that it was not part of the plan so I just went back to me and my watch and my theory that it was not a bike race. I got into town, sat up for the last mile and shifted into a smaller gear to let my hr settle, my back relax and my legs get some blood out of them so the running muscles could be ready. About 20 people passed me in this time, but I stuck to my plan.

I went into the changing tent, slapped on my running shoes, tied a double not which took about a minute since my hands didn’t really work, drank some chicken broth (salty taste is good after all of the sugary Gatorade and goo), put some more food in my shirt, and headed out.

Loop #1 Run: It was now about 80 degrees and I was 6 hours 30 minutes into the race. I felt like I was going 1 mph as I trotted out onto the hard concrete run course. Looping courses where you pass through the starting gate 2 xs per loop. As I came out of the tent I saw john and jean that were there to give me a good job buddy. I knew Carl and Nate where up there some where and I was pretty stoked as I knew Nate was flying on the bike and was a good 10 minutes ahead of us, I assumed Carl was a good 4 minutes ahead of me but didn’t know. The first 2 miles were pretty brutal but I didn’t feel awful, just a lot of pounding on the hard concrete. I made it to the first aid station and took Gatorade, water, ice (under my hat) and ice cold sponges that I would put under my shirt around my neck to cool the blood that runs to your head. It was a lot of stuff, but I think it helped; I walked through each aid station to make sure I could get the fluids in and grab sponges. It was tough going at first but I just kept running. The first loop on the bike and the run were good because you didn’t know where you were going and there was some mystery as to what you were in for. The run loop was curvy and hilly, but broken up because it changed sides of the river on two bridges and had some good aid stations (cowboy theme, etc). I saw john again about mile 3 (the spectators had about as much work as the athletes) and he told me that Melissa and the other girls were just ahead and that Nate was in some trouble. I was motivated to see Melissa and the other girls but really sad to hear that Nate was struggling.... one thing about the ironman, if you decide to go for it, you will either finish fast, or you will hit the wall, Nate biked fast I knew that, and I just assumed it caught up to him on the run.... I ran over the bridge saw Melissa and the other girls and their smiles and support really gives you a lift. Even though you are doing the race for your own reasons, to see your friends, your girlfriend, and your training partners supporting you is a big bonus. I smiled at them and kept on trucking. My splits were above 8 minutes, but my HR was holding strong about 140-142. I decided to keep it in that range until mile 16 and then see how I felt. My hamstrings were feeling like if I pushed too much harder they might cramp, and I still was scared of the 3 hours ahead so I did not speed up even though I was secretly hoping to run a 3:30 marathon. I knew I had biked about 15 minutes faster than I had intended and I was worried that if I ran harder it might bight me in the butt. I finished the first loop in about 1:15 and set out for the second loop.

Loop #2 Run: Loop #2 sucked, you know what you are in for, and you know you have 2 more to do, so motivation is tough. Seeing john and jean, and them Melissa and Sarah and Rebecca and Susan at different points was great. Starting to run after walking in the aid stations sucks big time. Your body just wants to stop. The concrete was so hard and unforgiving and your stride is shortened and laborious because your muscles are drained and shortened and tight. I think loop 2 was the worst part of the day emotionally, I felt like I was running backwards, and getting nowhere, and I felt like my hamstrings might seize up, so I think I slowed down subconsciously even though my HR was still in the 140-145 range. I had gotten my aid station stops down pat, toss the old sponges, grab a Gatorade, drink it, grab water, splash on my shoulders and sleeves, grab ice in my hat, more sponges on my head and put in my shirt, start running...repeat (that is the essence of an ironman marathon, 2 mile races from one aid station to the next...repeat. I had to stop for another bathroom break on lap 2. I didn’t want to stop, but my bladder was full and didn’t have a choice. It probably cost me 30 seconds. I finished loop #2 passing Melissa and the girls, and crossed the path one last time. Each loop you have to run by the finish line.... and you just want to take a left and be done.... One of the best parts of my day happened on loop 2 though.... I was struggling through one of the harder parts of the run course and was sort of jockeying back and forth with this one guy. I was running faster than he was, but he would run the aid stations and I would walk them, so I would pass him, then at the aid station he would pass me. I was just about 10 feet behind him with another guy about 10 feet behind me. And I hear someone yell. “Go Donald!” And I had an instant smile because of the big elbows being my favorite movie, but then to my surprise, I heard “go Walter” and I about started laughing, I was running between Donald and Walter.... I might have hallucinated all of this, but I looked at their race numbers and sure enough.... I was in the middle of the big elbows running club! That got me through about 3 miles of said loop. Unfortunately I had to leave Walter and Donald behind, as they were not achievers in the end. I was in rough shape, but I always smiled and said thank you to anyone who cheered for me. It is an awesome thing to have a stranger encourage you, and I wanted to make sure they knew I appreciated it. I also made sure I smiled and said hi to all of the people that came down to watch us for they also sacrificed for us to do this race. To date or be married to someone training for one of these is probably less than ideal. We are constantly fatigued, have strange commitments to massage, yoga, bike rides, runs, swimming, sleeping, etc. The only true benefit is that we end up with a pretty low body fat percentage, and if some day all cars blow up at the same time and you need to get a package to eau Claire, we could get it there for you.

Loop #3. Passing the finish line spot for the start of loop #3 I got really choked up and almost started crying for some reason (it was a strange feeling). I nipped that in the bud and said to myself, you haven’t done anything yet jackass. Sarah had prepared me well for the run with some of our discussions, she told me once, that running the first 16 miles 50% of people can do, but running the last 10 is the key to an ironman. Because the change in time between running 8 or 9 minute miles and walking at 14-15 minute miles can be 30-40 minutes. The race starts at mile 16 she would say, and at mile 20, everyone wants to die, the last 6 miles is all about heart and will and nothing else. It was an interesting scene, almost like a river freezing, loop one everyone was running, loop two, mostly running some waddling, by loop three, people were waddling, walking, laying on the side of the course asking for help up, stretching, swearing at their body parts that had stopped working, walking in a trance. I remember making it to mile 20 and telling myself that this is nothing more than one of my nature preserve loops that I do with Timmy once a week. I asked myself “ on the worst day of your life, sick, tired, sore, dehydrated.... could you go do one 7 mile loop if you had too?” And I told myself I could. I saw Melissa and Sarah and Susan again with 4 miles to go, and I remember looking directly at Melissa and I could tell for the first time she was really concerned for me. I was 99% sure I knew what I was doing, but could tell she was worried, I ran past them and put myself in the pain cave for the last 4 miles I didn’t think about anything but the course. I just kept putting it in terms of things I knew I could do....”one lap around lake Calhoun and Harriet” then “one lap around Nokomis” and then two miles, then one. It is funny what you hear and what makes a difference to you. I remember vividly when I started loop two someone saying softly to his or her friend (after shouting go Paul!) “Hey I think he is already on loop 2” and just the tone in their voice gave me confidence like they were really impressed. I remember one lady who looked like a runner yelling “Paul you look really strong” when I started loop #3, I sort of laughed and thought “yeah right you say that to everyone” and then she stared at me right in the eyes and said in a stern coach like voice “I am serious, I know what I am talking about” like she read my mind. And I knew at that minute that I was going to make it. I decided at mile 20 that I was going to make it and I could up the effort a bit, I started passing people and running harder (now this may sound good, but the pace I was going at was slower than I have run on any run in the last 15 years). Everyone has their name on their number so all along the course people are encouraging you by name, and it really helps, you can see how proud these people are of their loved ones and what an accomplishment it is for some people to attempt and finish this race. It is like the pain sort of bathes you in this sense of presence with the people at the race and you share in the pain and the experience. I got a mile out and knew I was going to make it, I turned down the shoot to the finish, and crossed paths with someone who was just leaving the bike transition (i.e. they had 26.2 miles to run). I felt for that person because it was still a long ways away for them, but I was within 200 yards. I saw one guy ahead of me as I turned into the shoot. I saw john there and smiled at him and gave him a “hey buddy” he looked at me and said....”well, RUN! Catch that guy” and I love john for that, it is a race after all, so I put the hammer down (what there was of one) and ran after him, he ran harder too so I still finished behind him (he ended up being a pro, and since the pros started 10 minutes before the rest of us, I actually beat him :)), but crossed the line at 10:09:36, running a 3:43 marathon. I couldn’t believe it. It was over. My time was good for 169th overall in the race out of 2200 people that started it. Hell with normal transitions I might be a 10:05...

to put things in perspective. The first triathlon I did had a bike leg that was 25 miles. I rode as hard as I possibly could and ended up in the medical tent after that race. My bike speed was 21.2 mph. I remember I wrote that number on the side of my helmet because I couldn’t believe how crazy fast I had ridden my bike. I mean I dropped the hammer and was twisting my arm patting myself on the back for riding so fast. Sunday I rode 112 miles and my average was 21.2 mph. And I did that while preventing myself from putting forth any significant effort or heart rate. The human body is an amazing thing.

This is a really long report, but I probably put in over 750 hours of training and racing to do this so you can suck it up and read some more!

Training: the training involves riding 125 miles on a Saturday, followed up by an hour run, and then on Sunday running for 2 hours (to try and simulate the fatigue you will feel on race day). It involves spending money on spandex and cliff bars, funky helmets, running shoes, swimming classes and goggles. It involves going to bed early, getting up even earlier. It involves sitting on your bike for 5 hours on a snowy day in front of your TV because you live in MN. It involves having no real time to enjoy simple things.... typical day: get up at 5:45, eat a banana, grab swim bag, drive 20 min to swim class, swim 3500 yards from 6:30-7:30, sit in rush hour traffic to get to work by 8:30, work from 8:30-5:30, drive home by 6:00 get on your bike for 2 hours or run for one or two, finish by 8 or 9, shower, eat, repeat....



I think that I can sum up the iron man in a saying Sarah told me once.

“I will do what you won’t do today, so that I will do what you can’t do tomorrow”

I truly believe that anyone can do this race, just like anyone can be rich, successful, a good parent, climb a mountain, start a business, or what ever they want.... it is just that 99% of people won’t do what it takes to achieve that goal because it is hard, and takes commitment, and there is no guarantee that you will succeed.

Showing up to the start of an ironman is not difficult, getting up to go to swim practice on January 15th at 5:30 AM is the truth of the ironman. It is not signing up, or showing up, it is the full commitment to the cause that is what makes it a special achievement. I am more proud of myself for having the willpower to stay in on a Friday night so I could go ride 120 miles in cold and rain in Wisconsin on a Saturday than I am that I flew to phoenix and completed this race. For I truly believe that the race was completed long before I got to the start line.

Crossing that finish line was an interesting feeling; you sort of melt emotionally because you can finally let your guard down, your mental and emotional guard. Two people immediately grab you and sort of support you while you get your t-shirt, hat, medal, and they get you out of the finish area. I have probably completed 20 triathlons, and have finished much shorter races in much worse condition. So it was nice to be able to hug Melissa and see john and jean and not have to be escorted to the medical tent. I know a lot of people were worried about me because I have had some touch and go situations in other races in the past, but I think the fear of this race kept me in check. The good thing about almost killing yourself in a race is that you identify and get a really close good look at your limits, and those lessons are not easily forgotten. Every man has got to know his limitations (east wood say that?) And unfortunately the only way to truly find them is to truly find them. You can’t learn about your limitations from a book on tape, sometimes you have to wake up naked in a hospital with two iv’s in your arms and a fan blowing over you with some guy asking you what day it is.... or what the vice presidents wife’s name is

Crossing that finish line felt a lot like hitting the winning free-throw in a basketball game. Not because you made the free throw, but because of the reason you made the free throw...preparation and opportunity...you got the opportunity to perform, and you had prepared yourself for that moment.... regardless of rain, snow, shine, sickness, fatigue, etc you went out and shot 100 free throws every day, so that when you got to that line you knew it was going in, not because you wanted it to go in, because you have done it so many times that you actually knew it was going in. And it went in because of the 10,000 you shot when it didn’t matter, and no one was watching you, and in the end, it was the 10,000 you shot alone that was the true achievement, not the one you made or maybe even missed when everyone was watching.

I was lucky that the day worked out for me and I owe 90% of that to Sarah and Dave and Nate as without them I would have never had any direction or any clue as to what to do or even how to do it. I think my strongest quality in this sport is I can be coached :)

I don’t know if I will ever do one again, but I am a better person for this experience, and if nothing else it reminded me that in our instant gratification society, nothing is sweeter than working and sacrificing for something because when you give so much to achieve something, the achievement gives you 10x as much in return. I received a new level of confidence in my abilities and my determination, I have a great group of new friends that are truly great people, and I have tried out a new lifestyle for a couple of years that most people look at as insanity. The challenge with this sport is not the physical part, but the social part. It is a very selfish sport that involves 15 hours a week of training typically by you or with other tri-donkeys. How do you stay connected and also get in the training?

Sorry if I got sappy there.

The funny thing is I know I have a 9:45 race in me just as I know I have a Bonk and 14 hour finish in me. I know I miss soccer, and basketball, and golf, and sleeping in, and drinking beer, and mountain dew, and my friends and my family and late night TV and trying something new I suck at, and discovering the meaning of life, so I am not sure what will be next. What I do know is that I was able to put myself in the pain cave for 10:09:36, exude MTXE as my dad always taught us in tennis (mental toughness and extra effort) and execute a plan. I have not been able to go down or up stairs, or sleep because my legs are in such pain, but I golfed 36 holes today in phoenix and shot an 84, 86 and tomorrow I will eat a large turkey and sit on my ass.

Make a wish 11/11/2008

His decisions
delayed
or chance
up and away
grounded in faith
subject to sidereal
calculations
signs of the night
clouds of enemies
on-high and within

sidereal \sy-DEER-ee-uhl\, adjective:
measured or determined by the daily motion of the stars; of or having to do with the stars or constellations

Bryant Mornings 11/3/2008

walking towards the door
the aquiline curve
where her butt intwines
with her leg
silhouetted by incorrect microwave clock light
burrowing pony dog
model like maintenance
sunday begins
later than most
where is my ham
where do I vote

tomorrow will be a day like no other.

aquiline \AK-wuh-lyn; -lin\, adjective:
1. curved like an eagle's beak
2. of or like an eagle