Ironman AZ 2008 Race Report

April 18, 2008

ironman_finish.jpgRace morning came much more relaxed this year. Being my second foray at the Ironman distance, I felt like I kind of, sort of, knew what I was doing. I felt like I had some key issues solved, and I resolved that my race, perhaps my last Ironman, would be vastly different from my first attempt.

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Hours after my alarm went off at 3:30am – Sarah and I relaxed briefly at the main transition area. Our entire pre-race routine seemed to pass by much faster than last year. There were lines at bathrooms (were there fewer portajohns?), and it seemed like there were a lot more spectators.

Everything I did had a purpose.; no ounce of energy was wasted. Our equipment was laid out, our bikes were ready to roll, and the clock was ticking down. Was I drinking enough water? Was I rested? What was my plan on the bike? I stopped asking myself these questions – much more common last year – and just let myself enjoy the experience of race morning.

Before Sarah and I wrestled into our wetsuits, we rubbed elbows with the pros. Sarah wished Rutger Beke good luck as he climbed a fence to get out of transition. We strolled past Michelie Jones several times. Each time, she looked extremely focused. Not necessarily relaxed. Such is the life of a professional athlete, I suppose who not only wants to perform well, but is racing for a paycheck as well.

Wetsuits on, we jumped into the cool, murky water of Tempe Town Lake. Facing the rising sun we waited. Observed the masses assembled on the bank of the lake and on the bridges overhead. As one of more than 2,000 soon to be churning athletes bobbing in water, I was excited. Kiss Sarah – check. National Anthem – check. Kiss Sarah again.

im_swim.jpgThen out of nowhere, the cannon sounded and we were off. My goal this year: swim a straight line. My swimming had come a long way since last year, and I was much stronger and faster. I managed to stay in the crowd the entire way out to the turn – a accomplishment for me, because I am not very good at sighting a straight line. I did figure that if I maintained some sort of pinball status, this was a good thing, as I would be at least pointed in the right direction, and around other swimmers. With any contact, I simply sighted, and went back to work.

Swimming back, I tried to find my inner salmon. All I wanted was to swim a straight efficient line back to the start. I felt great and the swim was progressing much faster than I had expected. I heard the crowd, saw the final buoy and made my way to the shore.

Oddly enough, Sarah and I had virtually the same swim times, but we never saw each other. Unfortunately I missed Sarah’s parents, they were right at the point where we exited the water. The only person I recognized at transition was my swim coach, Anne Wilson. I was very excited to be out of the water and have a much faster time than last year.

I made my way out onto the bike course. Anxious, relaxed, and trying to get comfortable. Damn tri-shorts and their paper-thin chamois. Riders whizzed by, others swerved bobbed and weaved, getting things in order.

Now settled in, another challenge became apparent. The wind. Huh? The forecast I had been studying all week long promised, no threatened, extremely hot weather, but made no mention of strong winds.

And that’s what we had. Frustration tried to set in. I managed to keep my focus. Judging from flags, I knew at some point, we would have a tail wind. But not until after we had climbed up Beeline Highway. Finally the turn around, and whoosh. It was like riding in fast-forward. And this was vastly different than last year. It was at this point that I really started to enjoy the race.

As the ride progressed, I got a lot more looks from riders I passed. I made a silly error with my bike race number. I put it on the rear triangle of my bike, and the wind pushed it right into the spokes. So when in motion, it was just like riding with a baseball card in my spokes. The sound brought smiles, errant looks, and sparked a lot of great conversation.

The last stretch of the ride was a lot of fun. I leap-frogged with a few other riders, and had the unique experience of following Michelie Jones through an aid station. That was awesome. Watching a pro navigate lower moving age-group athletes, and picking up fresh bottles before speeding off in a blur gave me goosebumps. I had brushed elbows with a professional in competition. There are not a lot of sports where you can say that.

im_run.jpgFinally, back at transition, I handed over my bike. I began to jog to my run gear, when my feet cramped. My big toes were on fire. My legs felt like concrete blocks.

I needed. . . .I needed a Coke! And I had one in my run bag. I stripped off my bike shoes, helmet, and got into my run gear. Cracking open my still icy cold cola, I waited as volunteers graciously rubbed sunscreen onto my salt encrusted, dusty body. With a hat chock full of ice I set out for my marathon.

Imagine wearing a hat full of ice, and not getting a headache or feeling cold.

Running felt good. With my head encased in ice, I felt like Superman. I was smiling. I was ready to do this thing. After three miles – the barf mark from last year – I was still going strong. My pace was good, relaxed. I knew I still had a long way to go, but my race was going according to plan.

Fast-shuffle 4 miles. I was beginning to have problems. My stomach shut down. I was cool, I was still maintaining my pace, but my stomach was quickly turning into a Category 5 storm. And everyone knows you can’t control the weather, or disgruntled stomachs of endurance athletes.

I prayed to the god of Ralph 4 times, stood up, and ran off. I felt tapped out. I lost all of my calories, my salt, and I felt pretty dizzy. At the next rest station, I had water, chicken broth and some defizzed cola. I didn’t feel bad. Just empty.

I tried salt tablets, chicken broth, Nuun. I couldn’t get back in front of my hydration. I could run for only short distances before my legs began to cramp.

im_hamster.jpgNear the halfway mark, I grabbed my special needs bag for some more, and I grabbed the card that Sarah made me. Opening the envelope, I was greeted by the IronHamster. Sarah had modified a “Hamster Dance” card complete with audio of the song for me. There was swim hamster, bike hamster, and run hamster. I read the card, and the moving message on the inside as I ran off. I got a lot of weird looks from other athletes when the card’s song began to play. It was awesome. I felt much better.

At 15 miles, I got sick again. I was done. I tried everything, but couldn’t keep anything down. I really wanted to go faster.

The carnage I witnessed along to course discouraged me from straying from my current plan. I witnessed a lot of athletes seized up with cramping, or lying down from what I could only assume was heat exhaustion or worse. At this point, I was less interested in a faster time, and more interested in simply finishing. Especially one where the conditions were so brutal.

My watch conked out around 21 miles. I was running on internal time. With four miles left to go, I started to feel good again. I was excited, I thought about all of those tough days during the past 6 months of training. And I though about Sarah, and how awesome it is to share the experience with her.

Making my way back past transition, I was in home stretch. Running with a guy in a LiveStrong jersey, I said, “We did this thing. Congratulations!” We gave each other five. He paused briefly to see his wife and children; they were absolutely ecstatic.

Finally it was up the hill and into a narrow chute. Kids on both sides held out their hands, offering fives. It was so uplifting. I clapped, pumped my fists, and crossed the finish line. I don’t remember hearing my name being called.

Sarah crossed the line less than 20 minutes after I did. I welcomed her back with a kiss and a hug. She ran a really, really hard race. She improved on her time by 10 minutes.

It’s what I witnessed after I finish that encapsulates Ironman more than anything; men and women competitors racing toward the line to the roar of the crowd. Some were in their 30s, some were in their 40s and 50s. And there were racers in their 60s and 70s as well. Finishing the race at any age in any time is an amazing accomplishment. Watching it firsthand was truly a moving experience. And it’s something I don’t remember from last year.

When I returned to work, most of my coworkers looked at me like I was an alien. I wish I could give them an injection of Ironman, so they could experience what it feels like to complete the race. It is such a sense of accomplishment; I’ve never experienced anything so empowering. If more people who feel what that is like, the world would be a much better place.

For anyone who has ever considered chasing a dream they thought was impossible, go for it! Others may question your sanity, your Don Quixote dedication, and your rationale, but if it’s important to you – whatever that goal may be – chase after it.

Eliminate “what if?” You’ll be much happier if you do.

Posted by seth | Filed Under Triathlon, Blog 

Comments

2 Responses to “Ironman AZ 2008 Race Report”

  1. Trevalene Simons on April 20th, 2008 5:35 am

    Seth: This is a great piece of writing, and you’ve shared your experience so well. Jim and I enjoyed our day as spectators, and we hope all our pictures are good. Well done, young man! Talk to you soon.
    Trevalene

  2. Dad on April 21st, 2008 5:44 pm

    Goo9d job Seth and Sarah! I’m so proud of you guys! A truly great accomplishment! I hope that enthusiasm stays with you for the whole year; ’til you do it again. And I’ll be willing to bet you do!
    Wonderful story too.
    Take care of each other.
    Love,
    Dad

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