As of May 23rd 2007 I was still telling my friends "I'll never run a marathon." This was usually the comment that came right after "I will never, ever go in an Ironman!"
So I was wrong.
Last June I found myself saying "yes" to one of my more persistent friends when he bulldogged me into joining his Ironcops For Cancer group, and eventually entering Ironman USA.
A year of training went by in the blink of an eye. The thought (threat?) of a 3.8 km swim, 180 km bike and 42.2 km run focused my triathlon training like never before. There were very few workouts blown off, or mailed in. I found myself getting up at 3am (just weeks into a brand new job mind you) to do gruelling indoor rides on my trainer. The pool - where I'm never comfortable - became my second home, and I fell even more in love with running.
I worked so hard at it all, that by early May of this year, I was happily making predictions in private about my sub- 12 hour Ironman!
It's funny how things change, and not always in a bad way either. In late May I ran my 7th Cabot Trail Relay in Nova Scotia. I took on the easiest leg I'd done in years, and promptly had my butt handed to me. It was a bit humiliating.
Then a week later, I joined a crazed bunch of tri-geeks at Lake Placid for "Epicman." It's a nine hour training day where we swam in 55 degree water for 45 minutes, rode the entire 180 km bike course in a cold, constant downpour and then ran until the nine hours were up. It took me 20 minutes to get my face in the water...the bike was a disaster...and my run turned out to be a 2 km jog, just to say I did it. It was humbling.
I had six weeks to try to reset my priorities. Time was no longer an issue. The goal was simply to finish this crazy thing, and hopefully, have a great run.
Two weeks before the race, my training partners weren't sure I was even going to show up. They were concerned about the number of rides, runs and swims I'd missed, and by how I'd slowly disappeared from their radar. I was concerned too...very concerned.
When we showed up on the Wednesday night before the race, I had all the stuff I needed. My body was fit and trained. I had a place to stay, and stuff to eat. And deep deep down, I was freaking out.
We swam the course on Thursday morning. My time was the best I'd ever put in on that distance. We rode on the run course. It felt great. Leading up to race day, I got in all the rides, runs and swims I'd need to boost my confidence. But I was still not ready.
Saturday, my wife and son showed up. Seeing them calmed me down, and also pushed my anxiety up. I couldn't fail in front of them. Now the stress was getting to me.
Race day, I got up at 4 am, which for me is sleeping in. I ate, talked a bit, then got a ride to the start. It was cloudy and cool, with no wind. We got into our wetsuits and slowly 2300 Ironwannabes slipped into the warm, clear waters of Mirror Lake. Just before the gun I got into a great conversation with a woman who works with the Elizabeth Glazer Aids Foundation in Washington DC. What she does was so much more impressive than doing a triathlon.
The gun went off. I stuck my face in and swam hard. There were hands, and arms, and feet, and legs and bodies everywhere as we all stroked our way to the turn buoy. Two minutes in, I stopped. I couldn't do it. I was having a full-blown panic attack with no more than 200 metres done in my swim. I tried again. No way. It's impossible to describe the feeling of intense dread that takes over. It was enough to make me entertain thoughts of swimming to shore and calling it a day. I tried again. Worse. Looking behind, there couldn't be more than ten people, and they seemed to be swimming just fine. Finally, after 20 minutes of stopping and starting, I got going. It was tentative, slow and painful, but I was moving forward. The the rain started. At first it was just a light shower, but by the time I hit the beach, it was a full-on downpour. Lap one took 57 minutes. That's about my slowest time ever on 1.9 km. I ran across the beach and back in for the second lap. Slowly and steadily my strength and courage took over, and I pulled out of lap two with a respectable, but way-slow 1:34 swim.
A quick 300m run in the rain to the change tent (after having my wetsuit stripped off by a complete stranger - oddly interesting) where I got into warm, dry bike clothes, and I was off to the races.
The bike started a bit squirrely. It's a very tricky, steep hill with a couple of sharp turns, and hay bails for those who get it wrong, just to get onto the bike course. After the long climb out of town, we had a rain-slicked hell ride down horrible pavement for the legendary descent into Keene. After fifteen minutes of thrills and luckily, no spills, I turned onto the most pleasant part of the course, wet, chilled and happy to be there. The entire first loop was uneventful. Volunteers and spectators were rain-soaked, but incredible. They yelled, cheered, and even held our bikes when we used the porta-johns. We were fed, bandaided and basically coddled unlike anything I've experienced in a triathlon, ever! I got into a kind of weird Zen on the ride. I talked to other riders (I never do that) and I looked around at the gorgeous scenery. For reasons I'll never know, I never once looked at my watch. Lap two was even more fun than the first. And all this with the rain coming down harder and harder every minute.
I finished the second lap, ran back to the change tent and got into warm dry running clothes.
Now for the last ten miles of the ride, my legs were feeling pretty bad. I found every hill harder than the last, and my speed just wasn't there anymore. So I was very surprised that my first steps felt awesome when I took off on my first-ever marathon. I had to pull my speed back at the one mile marker because my time was way under my plan. My wife had told me before the race "don't think about how far you have to go, just how much you've done." So when I hit the one mile marker I said out loud "one mile down...one to go." That kept me in it the rest of the way. I passed my wife and son twice on the bike and three times on the run. I swear I went faster, and felt stronger each time. By mile 10 I was the clear favorite for "most annoying athlete on the course." I badgered anyone who started walking to "run with me." I hammered up the hills, and down the other side. Water stop people were thanked, hugged and thanked again. As I passed the last water stop of the day at mile 25, I gave them a standing ovation. Then I took off hard for the finish line. Three people were in front of me with 200 metres to go. I put them away and had the best finish of my life.
I stopped at the line and just drank it all in for a few seconds. Then the nice people there asked me to walk forward ten feet to get my timing chip taken off, and to get my finisher's hat and shirt. Someone had already put a medal on me...wish I could remember that! I could barely walk after the finish. I left everything on the course. It was exhilarating!
The world looks a bit different to me now. I see more things as possible. I feel that I can achieve anything I put my mind to. I'm so ridiculously content.
I am an Ironman!
