I’m inspired today. Just finished working at Ironman Nice in France. it reminds me of another story inspired by two brothers and their shot at the Ironman World Championship. The race has never really recovered. Enjoy the story!
Hey! I made it back from the big island doing the big race. As always, it never fails to dish up a smorgasbord of a day. Here are some highlights:
Pre-race anxiety: Of course there was the big earthquake which had everyone scrambling to see if the course would actually be open. The swim course swells were predicted to rise from 3 ft to 6ft and the weather was to be nice and hot. Thankfully, my bike arrived in one piece and yes all the pedals were there too! I have to say that this was the calmest I have ever been before a race. Hanging with my brother, John with every connection in Hawaii was a blessing and perhaps a curse too. He still had all his bike course director activities going on which meant that we were one of the last athletes to check in. One of the last to get the bike to the pier..etc.. but still, it all went well.
Strategy talks: The usual lies, "Hey this is no big deal. We just go out and do the day." Since we spent the whole summer training apart, neither of us knew what would be the pacesetter. Regardless, we did not have a time goal and settled in on staying with each other unless something catastrophic happened.
Race day! Up at 04:15. Actually slept pretty well. We sailed through the pre-race routine. It was so easy that was the only thing to worry about. In the transition, the bike was exactly were I left it the night before! (Whew!) Time to get in the water which usually dishes up a jumbo set of butterflies but we headed right in no problem. This time, we swam up to the back of the “gung ho group” hoping to catch a good pair of feet to draft. Unfortunately, the 400 people on the beach decided to do the same. We were stuck in the middle of the pack when the gun went off. It wasn't really a swim for quite a long time. More of a mosh pit. Just as it thinned out a bit, we approached a course marker and everyone would neck back together. We fought to stay in sight of each other but by the second buoy “Turnstile” we were churned away from each other. It was a cluster bomb all the way to the turn around. When I could finally swim, the water was rough and I swallowed more than the usual salt water which had me worried. John and I exited the water about the same time in a respectable 1:20 for the conditions.
The ride had it all. It was a little Tour de France in town with people in your face on the up hillers. The wind was right on us as we left town but that didn't last long as the pouring rain was right behind it. As fast as the rain came, the sun came out. We entered into the "fun house" part of the course. I swear that the highway looked flat but I was out of gears to shift down. John said that we would hit 30 mph on the way back down this section. The winds to Hawi did not disappoint but were thankfully not the kind that kept the blood out of your fingers from holding too tight. I was robbed again though just after Hawi. It should be a sweet down hill with a tail wind. In 2004, I had a bad headache and felt every bump. This time, I grabbed my special needs bag (aka feed bag), unclipped with both feet to a feast of a “Payday” and some “chalk water” both were something to look forward to at mile 58. As I clipped in to go down hill, my left knee locks up!?!?! Not a good feeling with 50+ miles to go. I have never had this problem. Once again, I watched as everyone else sailed away from me down hill. Gradually it warmed up and I got strength back into it. I wish I had a helmet cam for the whole race. What a beautiful course, until mile 80 that is. The head wind was back. Four bike lengths became awful short for many riders out there (the distance required to not get a drafting penalty). As usual at this fatigue point, I get the thoughts running through my noggin, "Uh why am I doing this? What !@#$ should I blame for talking me into this? How stupid?.." These thoughts change back to how smart we were. As we pass runners on the marathon, they look hot and tired. I shout at my brother, "Good thing we slowed down so we can run later in the day when it is cooler!" The best part of the ride? Is when I get to see if I can swing my leg over the top of that very small seat.
The run had it all too. After the bike and my knee problem, I was glad that I could run in my socks to the change tent. No problem with the knee. Well until I went to sit down that is. I almost collapsed to the bench. It felt like some figure skater black piped me. I couldn't reach down to get my socks off. Thank God there were some ART people there. I was hesitant to have someone start jabbing at the muscles but it was the only option. After a few minutes of what felt like shock therapy, the knee started to loosen its death grip. Thankfully there is only 26.2 miles to go! Time to get er' done. Oh...by the way, never believe pre-race strategy info. We agreed that we wouldn't waste time changing into dry clothes for the run. (I always have dry clothes in the past but I was going to tough it out.) I looked over and there is John saying, "I think I will put my dry shirt on after all!" Well, at least the dry shirt wasn't one of mine! (like he used to do in high school.) I started my jog out the exit but had to stop for what seemed like 10 minutes. Running with my brother was like being with the mayor or something. We stopped to chat with everyone. I was okay with that as a slow start would be good for the knee. Every mile had another, "Oh hi John." "Look there's John." Even the police at the intersections, " Hey Brudda, need a ride?" We were working our way along at a run-walk the aid stations pace. Just before the mid point of the marathon John does the math and says, "Dude, we have a shot at breaking 13 (hours)." What's our pace?” “About a 10min/mi average.” I said. “Check your watch at the next mile.” Next marker XX:07. Ten minute miles. Next marker XX:17. Ten minute miles. It is going to be close. We have to stop walking so much. (as in from the Gatorade table to the last water table) We hold ten minute miles for the next 7 miles. John stops for a PP stop in the middle of no-where. No pee. False alarm or stage fright? Knowing my brother, it is definitely not stage fright. Wasted time none the less. The last few miles into town are uphill. I could hear my brother breathing hard. C'mon dude. We only have a few minute margin. If we can make it into town, the last few miles are flat or down hill. Then....it starts to rain. Then it starts to pour. We turn and head down hill. If we had inner tubes, we could have rode the river faster. Mile marker 24 and the watch says 12:38:00. "We can do two miles in twenty minutes!" I say. John shoots back, "It's more than two (miles) and the official clock is faster than our watches by over a minute." "No problem. We can sprint the last mile!" was my genius plan. We never saw mile marker 25. The streets were getting deeper in water to the middle of our shoes. My brother exclaims, "My shoes are getting heavy!" I keep thinking so what? but it is a testament to how hard he is working. 10 ounces becomes two pounds a hundred times per minute. We make the last turn onto the front street. A volunteer yells, "Stay in the middle!" Two strides and we realize why. The water flooded the street to the middle of our shins! I spot dry land behind the spectators lining the streets in umbrellas. My brother who was just behind sees the same and yells, "Go up the sidewalk." We do the OJ Simpson in and out of people coming down the sidewalk with everyone cheering. Woo hoo! Back into the street and down the final chute. The time didn't matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore; we were on the magic carpet going home. The emotion was lifting the rocket off the pad. About 75 yards out, my nephew is dropped into the chute and starts running next to John. So all three of us are striding next to each other. It was awesome! I was worried that Will would start to get tired. We were moving along at a good clip. We were so happy to reach the finish line! In the slow motion image in my mind as our last steps hit the ground I look up and the clock reads 12:58:57! I get choked up just typing it. It may sound silly but after almost 13 hours, it is huge. It is about setting that goal and the determination to make it happen despite rain or pain. The crowning moment? At the finish, Will looks at John and says, " Wow Dad. I didn't think you would be able run that fast!" Priceless….
Post race: Usually the magic starts to wear off as we head over for photos but the T-shirt/finish medal tent image was so bizarre. The whole area was flooded. We sloshed over to get our shirts. Some volunteers were standing on the chairs. I felt like they had set this up in a swamp and we would find leaches stuck to our legs or something. My mind was still trying to get its share of the blood that was still going to my legs. It was all so .......odd.
Well, there are many more stories in the stories and that is why I do it. It is still stupid and awesome at the same time.
Some day I will write why I do it but for now, there was a shirt that we saw stuck to a triathlete in the rain. It said, " If you have to ask why, you won't understand the answer." I wish I had a camera, as it would make a good poster.
Special thanks to you all for all the help training etc. That is really the other 7/8ths of the race.
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