It's Not About The Bike...

As a kid I went through the usual variety of bikes. Kick brakes, banana seats, baseball cards in the spokes and all. Eventually somewhere in my early teens I graduated to the big leagues and I got a Schwinn Deluxe Varsity 10 speed. I loved that bike and rode it everywhere. I don’t know how many times I completely stripped it down as far as I could to thoroughly clean and lube it and then put it back together again. I enjoyed every second I spent on it. But, by my late teens it lay unused and virtually forgotten in my parent’s garage. I had moved on. I was now a long distance runner and had no more time for it.

A couple of years after graduating high school a friend brought me back to bikes. He was an avid cyclist and convinced me to start riding with him. I bought his old Raleigh touring bike, cleaned it up and painted it, and took it out on the road. I did a lot of riding with him, regaining my joy of being on a bike. I eventually did a number of weekend bike tours on it and a couple of biathlons as well. I started to get better and faster and even tried a couple of criteriums. Unfortunately after several years of this I somehow cracked the frame and had no money for another bike. Again, I stepped away from the bike.

Every summer I would watch the Tour de France, and miss the bike. I would start to save to buy one, hoping to get back out on the road again. A couple of weeks after the Tour was over I would forget about it and spend the money. Running was cheaper, I was good at it, and that was enough for me.

I eventually graduated from college with my bachelor’s degree and then with my master’s. I found my first job as an athletic trainer and moved to Texas. I quickly found that I didn’t have the time to even run anymore, much less ride. Besides, I was barely able to pay the bills, I didn’t have money to waste on a bike that I couldn’t even ride safely on the roads where I lived. But, three years later, during the summer of 2000, I moved to New York.

I found the time to start running again and the area was perfect for riding. I was still scraping by financially, but I managed to dig up enough money to buy a Trek 4500 mountain bike. I justified the purchase because I needed it for work. I started riding that around campus, using it as a way to get from field to field providing medical coverage for games. As the year progressed I found some trails and started riding them as well.

The following school year I signed up to do a 60 mile ride for MS and knew that I didn’t really want to ride a mountain bike that far. Again I felt I had justification to buy a bike and scraped together enough to buy a Trek 1000 road bike. My first ride on it was in the MS ride, but soon after I was taking it out fairly regularly for rides. I was still putting in my miles running, but I was supplementing with my bike and loving it. That winter when the weather prohibited running outside I put road bike on my trainer and got my workouts in that way.

The next summer I started riding a couple of times a week. Never big miles, but decent rides of anywhere from 20 to 45 miles. I felt great and I was loving the bike again. But, as the summer wore on the rides grew fewer and shorter and by the start of the school year disappeared totally. I would still pull out the bike and stick on the trainer on the winter days when I couldn’t run, but that only lasted a couple of winters and then both bikes just got left in storage.

For some reason when we got out of school in June of 2006 I pulled out the Trek 1000 and loaded her on back of my truck before setting out for my usual summer of wandering around visiting family and friends. My first destination was my parents’ place in Michigan. I had couple siblings and a handful of friends still living in the area as well. I was about midway through my 10 hour drive when I got a call from a friend that lived ‘near’ my parents. He had just done his first triathlon, a sprint, that last weekend and wanted me to do one with him in the upcoming weekend. We discussed it for a while and I told him I would think about it.

The triathlon bug had actually first bitten me back in the 80’s when I watched The Wide World of Sports coverage of the Ironman triathlon in Hawaii. I already knew that I was an endurance athlete and after watching the race coverage I decided someday I would do Ironman. As with many other things, that plan was soon pushed to the back of my mind and virtually forgotten, but the hooks had been sunk in me. As I drove on it came back to me and the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was something I still wanted to do. A sprint triathlon was much, much shorter, but I had to start somewhere. So by the time I pulled into my parent’s driveway I was determined to become a triathlete.

The next morning I pulled out my bike, cleaned and lubed the chain, inflated the tires and took off on my first ride in a couple of years. I was already in pretty good shape because I had been running regularly, so I was able to hold a pretty good pace. I didn’t go very far that first ride, only about 15 miles, but it was a start and it was the distance that I would be riding in the upcoming triathlon. My butt was a bit tender, but it felt great to be back out on the bike again.

Despite a horrible swim I went on to have a good first triathlon that weekend. I managed to make the podium, finishing 3rd in my age group, just nipping my friend at the end. The hooks were now fully set and I continued to ride and train for triathlons the rest of the summer. I would do one more sprint a couple of weeks later and started to dream of Ironman.

As the summer ended and I headed back to work my triathlon training started to taper off and I soon was just running again. Fortunately we had a new coach working at the school who was a 6 time Ironman finisher and the fires were soon relit. The two of us hit it off and we were soon riding regularly together and it was only a couple of weeks later that I signed up for and did my first half ironman triathlon. In the race I rode my low end 1000 and found myself passing bike after bike, many of them 5-10 times the value of mine. I wasn't setting any records, but I was definitely holding my own. I ended up posting a 5:08 in my first 1/2 Ironman and even though I would have a couple of faster bike splits, it would take 9 more tries before I would surpass that time.

After completing my 3rd triathlon I knew my distant dream was doable. Ironman! I soon told my new girlfriend of it and my plans to register for Ironman Lake Placid the next summer. After she stopped laughing and explained the race was already closed out, as were all the rest, and how hard it was to get into them I was crushed. I continued to train and ride my bike on a regular basis, but my motivation was slipping and the bike was in danger of being put back into storage, but fortune struck.

About a month later my girlfriend told me she had just heard that they were going to have a new Ironman race the following summer in Louisville, KY and that registration would soon open for it. I made plans and shortly after registration opened I was on the computer hitting keys with desperation, I was going to get in! I was successful but it was many months before the race closed. Which on hindsight wasn’t too surprising. Louisville in August was not going to be pleasant. It is normally very hot and very humid and swimming in the Ohio River is never a real pleasure. But, it was an Ironman, and I was going to do it.

I continued to ride all fall and winter with my girlfriend. She started suggesting that if I was going to stay with triathlons and especially since I was doing an Ironman, that I might want to upgrade my bike. There was nothing wrong with the bike, but it was heavy and not really meant for speed. She was certain I’d be much happier with a better bike. She wasn’t suggesting I needed to jump up to a high end, but that I should at least consider a midlevel bike. She made sense, but I loved my 1000 and I pretty much ignored her for a while. The thought did roll around in my brain occasionally, and I would even look around online at different bikes, but I wasn’t ready to give this one up, yet.

As spring started to roll around I was still riding regularly. I loved being out on my bike. Running was still my first love, but my heart had found room for a second one. Around this time I also started noticing that bikes were going on sale and I soon found myself exploring the internet more often looking at what was out there and watching the sales. I started finding myself going back and checking out the 2006 Trek Madone 5.9 almost daily and eventually, I fell in love and bought her.

When my new bike arrived I was excited and couldn’t wait to take her out for a ride. She was so light and felt very fast and I was ear to ear smile the entire first ride. I came home and my 1000 was put back into storage. I decided to keep her as a backup bike for use in bad weather or in case something happened to the Madone. I still had a soft spot for the 1000, but she had been replaced.

I kept putting on the miles all spring. My longest ride though had only been about 65 miles. I needed to get in some longer ones if I really wanted to succeed at Ironman. Shortly after the school year ended I did an 80 mile ride followed a couple of weeks later by my first century. We stopped for lunch about 60 miles into the century, but I still completed it in one day, so I was getting closer to ready.

Around the 2nd week of July, 2007, I found out from my girl friend, via a friend of hers, that there was a group of triathletes that were planning to ride from Westchester, NY up to Lake Placid the week before Ironman and then stay up there and watch the race. I had ridden once early in the summer with a couple of them at one of their regular tri club rides and they seemed like a good bunch, so I asked for contact info to see if they would allow me to tag along. The ride they were planning was going to be about 300 miles over a two day period. It would be a huge step up for me, but I felt I could handle the challenge. I was riding well and feeling very strong and confident on the bike.

When I got a hold of the guy that was leading the ride he told me that due to a lot of people dropping out of the ride that he had decided to make it a one day ride. It was going to only be him and couple of other riders. He asked me how much experience I had and I lied telling him that I had done up to 160 miles in one day. I felt if he knew the truth that I would surely be left behind. He reluctantly agreed to allow me to join in.

I showed up at his place around 1am the morning of the ride. By this time the group was done to me and him and one other person who would only be riding about halfway with us. We set out through the dark and started our journey. It was a long ride and it turned out to be quite an adventure (which hopefully I’ll write up some day). The last half of the ride was in a cold, pouring rain with high winds. There were several times where I felt like I was done and could go no further, but somehow I’d get another wind and claw my way back into the ride. It took us 19 ½ hours to complete the 300 mile ride, which included our stops for food, drink, mechanical issues, etc. Our actual riding time was 18 hours and we averaged 16.5 mph for the ride. I was exhausted, cold and hungry by the time we reached Lake Placid, but I now finally felt I could call myself a cyclist.

We stayed and watched the race and I cheered my girlfriend on as she completed her 7th Ironman. The next morning after the race we headed to the fairgrounds to register for next year’s race. I was soon signed up to do my 2nd Ironman and had yet to do my 1st.

I did several ½ Ironman races over the course of the summer and completed my 1st Ironman in Louisville in a very respectable 11:40. I was now officially in my mind a runner, a cyclist and a triathlete. My love affair with the bike continued to grow. I continued to run, ride and do triathlons. My girlfriend moved away after that summer and went back to school. We continued to date for a while, but eventually she broke things off. I continued on with my new passions, despite losing my best training partner.

This last summer as I was in final preparation for my 4th Ironman (3rd at Lake Placid) I took my Madone in for a tune up and new tires and tubes to make sure everything was perfect for the race. While I was at the bike shop I started admiring a Cervelo that they had on sale. As I was talking to the guys that worked there they couldn’t help but notice were my attention was focused and one of them eventually told me that if I really liked that bike they should see the one they had in the show room. He took me over and showed me a 2009 Cervelo P2 tri bike with Dura Ace components. Since this was 2010 and the bike was still there, it was marked down pretty low. We talked, and talked and finally I said that I couldn’t afford it at the time and I finally left.

I got home and found that I couldn’t get my mind off of the bike. I kept telling myself I didn’t need it, the Madone was a great bike and besides, I really couldn’t afford it. The next day I went to pick up my Madone and I was feeling confident that I had dismissed the idea of buying the Cervelo. I got to the shop, paid for my Madone and took her out and loaded her on my truck. But, before I knew it I was back in the show room looking at the Cervelo. It wasn’t long before they convinced me to take it out for a test ride. I fell in love in the first mile. She was fast! And I felt super comfortable on her. When I returned from the ride they could tell from my smile that I was buying her. We haggled a bit and they came down a bit more on the price and soon she was mine.

It was the weekend before Ironman when I bought the Cervelo. I knew it was crazy, but my intent was to ride her in the race. I’d done no training on her and it would break one of the big rules of racing, don’t change anything race day. I managed to get in about 150 miles on her over the course of the week and felt confident that I could do Ironman on her. I took along the Madone, just in case, but the day before the race it was the Cervelo I put in transition.

I would go on to set a couple new PR’s in the race. I finished in a time of 11:20, which was 20 minutes faster than my PR in Louisville and I did the bike course in 5:45 breaking my PR, once again from Louisville, by several seconds. Several seconds doesn’t seem like much, but Louisville is very flat and fast and Lake Placid is a very challenging course and it was over 20 minutes faster than I had done the bike course at Lake Placid. I again had found a new love. I would continue to ride the Madone for most of my training, but the Cervelo was now my go to race bike. I stripped the Madone of her aerobars for the first time since I bought her and made her into a true road bike again.

This fall as the tri season came to an end and winter started approaching I decided it was time to put the Cervelo away for the season. I continued to ride the Madone, but after having spent more money than I really could afford on the Cervelo, I was all the more concerned about damaging the Madone. I had been riding her the last few winters, but in the back of my mind I knew that if something happened I could scratch together enough money to buy a new bike. Maybe not as high a level of bike, but a decent one. This was no longer an option.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was time to break out the 1000 again. She hadn’t been pulled out of storage in a couple of years, but I figured with simple adjustments and cleaning I could have her ready to ride. So out she came, but unfortunately I soon realized that it was going to take a lot more work than I expected. The chain was rusted solid, the brakes weren’t working, the cables frayed and the tires were rotten. She looked so bad, I almost just took her straight out to the dumpster. But, I still had a bit of a soft spot for her and I really didn’t want to continue to risk the Madone, so I got to work.

I went online and ordered all of the parts I would need. When they came in I spent several hours tearing her apart, cleaning, installing the new parts, lubing and getting everything adjusted. It was hard work but when I was done she looked good and I couldn’t wait to get her out for a ride. The next day we went for 40 hilly miles together and with each passing mile my smile started to grow. I was falling in love again. She was old, she was heavy and she was low end, but I loved her and found resurgence in my love of riding. I hadn’t fallen out of love with riding, but it felt like falling in love again for the first time. I couldn’t believe that I had left her in storage for so long, but that was now corrected and I know she won’t be going back.

After all of these years I’m 100% hooked on cycling. I regret all of the years that I let slip away without the bike, but nothing I can do about it except to keep on riding. Every time a new bike comes along my passion is renewed and I fall back in love with the sport again. I even now have plans to get my 4500 back out of storage and get her fixed up as well. However, it is simple to figure out that it is riding that I truly love and that it’s not about the bike.

But, yet, it is…

Ironman USA, Lake Placid, 2008

I'm working on my write up of the Manchester City Marathon from 1 1/2 weeks ago, but thought I'd share another race story that until now hadn't been shared except with a few friends and family members.

Some of you may have seen the results and a few of you have heard some of the details, but here is the full length account of Ironman Sunday.
We got up 5am Sunday morning had a quick breakfast, grabbed our special needs bags (1 bag for each the bike and run that we can get midway through each leg that we can put whatever we think we may need during the race, usually food, sometimes extra clothes, tubes, etc) and our swim gear, went down to the motel parking lot, got on the shuttle bus and headed for the start line.
As soon as we got off the bus we walked to the area where we dropped off our special needs bags, then headed to the transition area. In transition we pumped up the bike tires to proper levels, slathered on the body glide to help w/ wetsuit removal and prevent chaffing, made a quick visit to the good old porta-pots and then put on the bottom half of the wetsuits. The sun was up and peaking through the partly cloudy sky which made me glad I’d decided to put the polarized lenses on my sunglasses for the bike ride and we walked out of transition and headed to the swim start.
Once we got to the beach we put on the top portion of the wet suit, zipped up and entered the water to await the start. The morning was cool, the sun was shinning and it looked like a great day for the race. Floated around for a while waiting for the actual start w/ the prerace jitters churning up the stomach. Fortunately we didn’t have long to wait before the gun went off and Mirror lake became a churning frenzy of human bodies all scrambling away from the start turning the calm waters to a boiling froth that resembled a B-movie piranha attack and off we went. I started as close to the far shore as I could and away from the roped line where the majority were swimming in an effort to avoid being pummeled to death before I even completed a single lap.
I got off to a good start with minimal bumps, thumps, kicks, punches etc and got a fairly clear area to swim in. I swam strong to the first turn where things got congested a bit going around the two turns (the swim course was a very long narrow rectangle, a little over a ½ mile long and no more than 20yards wide that we swam around with the last corner hitting the beach where we exited the water briefly and ran back to the reentry point) and then I somehow managed to find another clear pocket of water to swim the rest of the way in to the beach in. I got to the beach and exited the water to complete the first of the two swim laps and saw the time on the clock at 46 minutes. I quickly ran to the across the timing mat to the swim reentry point dodging around other racers, the majority of which were walking, as I went.
When I got back to the water I quickly ran in dodging more of the other racers until I found an opening big enough to dive in and start swimming again. I quickly found an open area to swim in right along the underwater cable connecting the swim buoys which made things very easy. Normally in an open water swim you periodically have to look up (sight) to see where you are going since you don’t have the nice line to follow like you do in a pool, but Mirror lake has a cable system set up for a kayak course that the Ironman attaches their buoys to. Everyone likes swimming along the cable because they don’t have to sight during the swim, which is why I started way to the outside to avoid being pummeled by the masses, but for some reason I get lucky and find a gap to safely swim in for the second lap. Shortly into the lap I notice that I’m getting splashed quite heavily which is odd since I don’t detect anyone near me. I swim for maybe 100 yards puzzling this out and trying to figure out if my swim was really my slowest swim ever by 6 minutes for the first lap or whether the clock showed the time for the pro’s which started 10 minutes before the rest of us. After a couple minutes I sighted to see how far I had to the turn and realized I couldn’t see very far. It took a moment to realize that I hadn’t been getting splashed it was now pouring rain. No big deal for the swim, but I quickly dreaded what I might be facing on the bike. The rest of the swim went well and as I exited the water I saw the time on the clock as 1:15 and I received a quick adrenaline boost as I realized the time after the first lap was in fact incorrect and instead of swimming exceptionally slow compared to what I’ve done in the past I had actually set a new swim PR for myself.
Surging out the water with this rush of adrenaline I quickly peeled off the top part of my wetsuit as I ran to the strippers (not the kind I needed a bunch of $1’s for, but volunteers who help the athletes pull off their wetsuits). They rapidly stripped me down and off I went running for transition with a big smile on my face from my PR and splashing through the puddles that were rapidly growing from the rain accumulating on the ground. Volunteers quickly helped me find my swim-to-bike transition bag (transition bags and bikes were put in the transition area the day before) and I dashed into the changing tent. Unfortunately, even though it was my fastest swim ever, I was still clumped in with the majority of the athletes and so the changing tent was very crowded. It took me a while to find a spot with enough room to change, but I finally did and proceeded to change from my swim suit to my bike gear. Volunteers were helping as best they could but even if one were available I still can’t bring myself to let a man help me get undressed and dressed so I struggled through it on my own. I say struggle, because if you’re not familiar with the clothing, spandex and cycling clothes don’t come off or go on very easily when you’re wet. I finally get dressed and then realize that with the pouring rain I need to change the lenses on my sunglasses. I won’t be able to see anything with the polarized lenses so I lose some more time changing them to my yellow lenses. Finally I exit the changing tent and run off to get my bike.
By this time enough rain has fallen and with several hundred athletes already having run in and out of the transition area the ground is a muddy mess. I get to my bike as fast as I can, but shoes are fully mud caked by the time I leave the transition that I lose more time stomping my feet on the ground once I reach pavement in an attempt to dislodge the mud from my cleats so that I can fasten them onto my peddles. As soon as the mud is cleaned away I’m on my bike and headed out on to the road. There are several short, steep down hills and a number of sharp turns so everyone is riding very slowly and cautiously out of town.
Once we are out of the town the road straightens out and I start picking up speed. It’s still pouring rain so I still need to be somewhat cautious but I’m off and rapidly gaining speed. There are several big hills coming out of town that I strongly ride up and slowly move past a number of other riders. I’m getting passed by a few cyclists but passing more than pass me. About 7 miles into the ride there is 6 miles of down hill parts of which are very steep and when dry I’ve reached speeds well over 50 mph on. The majority of the riders are going down them very slowly, but I open things up a bit and ride them between 38-42mph and occasionally get passed by several people even crazier than I that are probably topping 50. Shortly after the downhill we make a turn and I feel a slight pop on the bike and about a mile later I realize something is a bit off w/ my seat. It’s nothing major, but the seat just isn’t quite right.
Anyway, I quickly ride through the first 40 miles of the course averaging over 20mph (official time is slower because it has the time I lost demudding my cleats) and catch my girl friend about 50 miles into the ride. She is having a good ride to this point as well.
At this point everything is going well, I’m sticking to my nutrition schedule, riding comfortably (well, as comfortably as one gets in a pouring rain w/ wet bike shorts and a bike seat shoved up their a$$) and I’m ahead of expected time to this point. Shortly after passing my girl friend I start into the final 5 hills of the lap: little cherry, big cherry, mama bear, baby bear and papa bear. They are not the worst hills on the course, but because it is a tough course and they are at the end, they are tough. I’m quickly over the top of the first 4 and as I’m cresting baby I see papa and I’m quickly puzzled by what I see. The top half of papa bear is covered w/ people and I fear that someone has had an accident and that on a rather steep hill I’m going to be forced to come to a stop to get around them. I charge down baby anyway and start pounding up the base of papa when I realize that the crowd is just fans cheering us on. I reach the first of them a third of the way up the hill and their enthusiasm carries me the rest of the way up. They are loud, they are crazy, they are obnoxious and they are having a blast and give us an incredible boost up the hill. There are people w/ drums, w/ horns, w/ cow bells, and dressed in various costumes. They are running up the hill w/ us, yelling at us, screaming, cheering and just plain going nuts. There are fans all over the course cheering us on, and the volunteers at the aid stations/bottle exchanges are fantastic, but this is insanity at its finest.
I’m quickly over the top of papa and make the turn for the final 2 miles to the special needs station to pick up my nutritional stuff for the second loop. I’m riding faster then expected and my legs are feeling loose, but I’m starting to feel a bit off.
I arrive at special needs, dump my empty bottles, reload the bike and take off. As I take off and start cranking away at the peddles I feel another “pop” and now something is really wrong w/ my seat. I stop and get off the bike grab my bike tool and quickly adjust and tighten the seat and take off again.
As I get back out onto the course for the second time I realize from the way my legs feel that I may have gone too hard on the first lap because they it is starting to become a struggling. I did feel like I was pushing the pace on the first lap, but evidently it was still too much and as each mile progresses I realize I have another problem developing. I’m steadily become sick to my stomach and can no longer eat or drink and even more than a sip of water at one time makes me feel nauseous almost to point of purging my stomach, in addition I’m starting to feel some intestinal cramping which steadily gets worse as the ride progresses. I’m still riding well, but slowly losing some speed and some of the places I picked up on the first lap. I’m still passing people on the hills (up and down) but overall losing ground. About mid-way through the lap I give up and discard all my nutritional supplies since I can’t stomach them there isn’t any reason to carry the extra weight. I’m not sure if my breakfast or my nutritional stuff from the first lap is causing the problems, but intestinal cramps are getting steadily worse. I just hope that I’ve taken in enough calories and fluids to get me through.
With about 25 miles left on the bike I feel another “pop” and just miss wiping out as I suddenly slide off the back of my bike seat and just barely manage to keep from landing on my rear wheel. The front of the seat is now pointing almost straight up and even though I managed to stay on the bike I have to pull over again. I quickly readjust the seat and tighten it so hard I’m afraid I’m going to either break the tool or the seat post. I get back on and take off again. The seat is still not right, but not bad enough that I’m willing to stop and try and make another adjustment. At this point I’m steadily getting more and more discouraged. I don’t think the stomach and intestinal issues, as uncomfortable as they are, are slowing me down, but the drop in pace, the weather and problems w/ the seat are starting to get to me.
Finally I reach the base of little cherry and I start digging in for the final stretch in an attempt to save as much time as possible. I charge over the first four hills and as I top baby bear again the sight of the crowd that is still cheering everyone on despite the weather on papa gives me a surge of adrenaline and I charge down baby and up and over papa and carry my momentum the last couple miles back to the transition area.
I quickly jump off my bike and pass it on to a volunteer who puts it away for me, grab my transition bag that another volunteer hands me and head to the changing tent again. It is still chaos in the tent, but things have thinned a bit and I’m able to find an area a little quicker to change. As I start changing the intestinal cramps worsen and I realize I’ve got another issue to deal w/. So I finish changing as quickly as I can but unfortunately in my rush I forget to change my shorts and have to take my shoes and socks (for some reason I’m trying to keep them dry) and change shorts and then put my shoes and socks back on. A volunteer comes over and takes my bike stuff and puts it in the transition bag for me and I run out of the tent and ask directions to the nearest porta-pot only to find out I have a choice of fighting my way back through the changing tent or waiting until I’m 1 ½ miles into the run. Another cramp makes the decision for me and back through the tent I go.
Business taken care of I plunge back into the tent, charge out of it and out onto the run course. First mile goes by at a quick 7:30 pace which I hold until mile 4, with about a 10 yard walk at each aid station to try and force in a little water. Shortly after the mile mark I’m sent scurrying for another porta-pot and my 7:30 average now becomes an 8. Fortunately my stomach starts settling and I’m starting to get more and more fluid at each aid station. Still walking about 10 yards at each one so that I can drink as more than I’d be typically able to do if I ran through them and I am now able to start eating some gel (a carbohydrate packet). Still maintaining even with the short walks about an 8-8:15 pace. There are two big hills on the run at towards the end of each lap and I fight my way up each of them passing people as I go, many of whom are walking them. Finally I reach the special needs area for the run and I grab a few more gel packs from my bag and keep going. They have gels and other food on the course, but I prefer my gel packs which have carbs, protein and caffeine and theirs are just carbs.
Shortly after starting the second loop I suffer a now all too familiar sensation and start my search for my smelly, plastic buddy. Pass several occupied and/or unusable ones before finally finding one. Other than the pit stops and the realization that I have huge blisters on both arches the run is going well. My pace has slowed some, but I’m still running under 9 minute miles even though my elapsed time shows differently. About 17 miles through the run I have to stop briefly and stretch the ham strings, start running again, only to give it up and walk the next 100 yards where I stop and stretch the hamstrings again and give the quads a quick stretch and then set off at a run again. A mile later I’m on another search and make one last quick visit to the plastic pit.
As I take off again I find I’m still running at a sub 9 pace and as I hit the first of the two hills in the closing miles I run strongly up it and start pushing the pace. I walk only a couple yards at the next couple aid stations and finally reach the last climb and charge up it. This hill, like papa bear, has been lined with cheering and enthusiastic fans all day and they give me another adrenaline boost that pulls me up the hill and around the corner where I can now hear the fans at the finish line, which even though it is a short distance away, is still almost 3 miles off for me. At this point the distance becomes unimportant as even more adrenalin is released by the roar of the crowds and the realization that I’m almost there. I steadily keep picking up the pace and don’t even pause at the next two aid stations. The run from the mile 24 to 25 mile marker only takes me 8:05 to run and I keep picking up the pace. I start to feel a familiar twinge and ignore. The fans along to road are going nuts for everyone that goes by, I start slapping every hand that is stuck out for me, my smile keeps getting bigger and bigger and before I know it I’m entering the Olympic speed skating oval and have less than 100 meters to go. As I come around the final turn, I see that I’m coming in just over 12 hours. I know the crowd is going nuts and the announcer is saying “Douglas Sawyer you are an Ironman!” but I don’t hear a thing. The adrenaline, the emotions, the pain, the fatigue and everything else just overwhelms my senses and all I notice is the finish line and the young ladies scrambling to put up the finish tape for me to run through and then I’m across the line and into the arms of a volunteer who helps me through the finish area where other volunteers quickly put my finishers medal on me, then my finishers hat, give me my finishers t-shirt and take my timing chip off for me and then w/ a final check to make sure I’m ok points me off in the direction of the food tent which I temporarily bypass for a less pleasant but often frequented destination.

Oh, and one last thing, it was still raining!
And that’s the rest of the story…
Thanks for all the well wishes and congratulations!
As for post race, I stuck around in the rain waiting for my girl friend to finish. She had a strong race despite not being able to do much training for the run until June due to some knee problems. We collected our bikes, clothing, etc and walked then (uphill of course) back to the motel, quickly changed and went back to cheer on a friend and to cheer the last finishers in as the race closed at midnight. The fans and volunteers were fantastic and despite the weather were still going crazy at midnight as we cheered to last couple finishers in.
The next day we got up a little stiff, had breakfast and went back to the transition area to look at the finisher merchandise and then drove home. Shortly after getting home I went to watch my softball team’s game and due to short numbers ended up playing and of course the game went into extra innings before we finally lost. I pitched for our team and on offense I struck out once, walked twice, scoring both times and had two deep fly outs that forced me to run to first and round for second before they were caught. So all things considered, I’m doing pretty well.

Ironman Louisville, KY 2007

This is my write up after finishing my first Ironman (Louisville, KY 2007). Emailed it to friends and family, but thought would share here:

I know this is very late in coming, but better late than never. Some of you may already know the results but I don’t think any of you have heard the full story, so here it is…
Race morning Jennifer (my girlfriend who was running in her 8th ironman and 2nd for the summer) and I got up, had breakfast, got dressed and headed off to the start line. They had changed our swim course a couple days before the race due to heavy rains upriver from Louisville. The river had a fast and strong current and instead of a 1.2 mile out and back course they decided to have us start in a narrow waterway between a small island and shore. We were going to swim ¾ of a mile upriver and then around the island and then swim 1.7 downriver. Normally everyone would start at once, but since where we were starting was too small for this they had us start one at a time w/ someone jumping in every second in the order that we got there. I dove in right behind Jennifer and Brian C. (who was doing his 11th and 2nd for the summer) forgetting that the force of the dive and a head on current might be too much for my goggles. Sure enough, as soon as I hit the water the goggle over my right eye peeled back and filled w/ water. I tried to stop to empty it but within seconds I’d drifted yards past the start and I would have probably been several hundred yards beyond the start line before I could have gotten the goggle empty and repositioned, so I closed my eye to keep the water out, which I’d end up doing for the whole distance, and started to swim.
Even though we were only swimming a short distance against the current it was a long tough battle. The day before on a practice swim I’d swam for 15 minutes against the current and it only took about 1 minute to get back to where I started. On top of this, the water was 86 degrees. Brian and Jennifer were long gone by the time I gave up on my goggles and started swimming. I was continually running into people, being run over, elbowed, passing people, being passed and at one point deliberately shoved under water (I didn’t connect the resulting punch as soundly as I’d hoped, but I hope it was enough that he had some thigh cramping later in the race) and along the way accidentally drank about ½ the river. The river water and my stomach didn’t exactly get along and I ended up throwing up during the swim before we got to the end of the island and almost did it again several more times before the finish. After what seemed an eternity I finally reached the “end” of the island and turned toward the finish for the swim. Other than almost vomiting several more times the swim was pretty uneventful the rest of the way. 1:25 after starting the swim I finally climbed out of the water and started the long .3 mile run to my bike and gear.
I got my bike gear bag and started to change. I had some food packed but my stomach would have nothing to do w/ it so I settled for forcing down a carbohydrate drink and while clumsily trying to change clothes and pack my swim gear into the bike gear bag, took a brief rest to cool down (the water temperature was so great that I was actually over heated during the swim), hit the porto-potty and then ran the .2 miles out of transition, hopped on my bike and took off.
The air temp was already in the high 80’s by this point and of course even greater on the road. I drank a 24oz Gatorade during ~ every 12 miles of the ride and poured a bottle of cold water on me to try and cool off. About 17 miles into the ride I turned to ride down a short out and back on the course and passed Brian going the other way and figured out he was 6 miles ahead of me (he and Jennifer finished the swim 20 minutes ahead of me) and a few miles later I saw Jennifer who was 3 miles ahead of me. I tried eating some of my food after about 20 miles and gave up because my stomach was still sick and would have nothing to do w/ it. It was hard enough keeping fluids down. Around 37 miles I passed Jennifer and a few miles later got lapped by the first of the pro’s (there was a 40 mile loop that we did twice and the pro’s started about 25 minutes ahead of me). Around the 50 mile mark I tried eating again and gave up and pitched all of my food (or at least thought I did because 2 days later when doing laundry I found that most of it was still in my jersey pockets) because I saw no reason to carry it if I couldn’t eat it. About the ½ way point of the bike they had an area where we could pick up bags that we’d dropped off w/ food and other stuff we thought we might need and I grabbed another of my carb drinks from it and left the food behind. By this time it was getting very hot on the course I was fighting to keep from massively overheating. The air temp was in the 90’s and the heat radiating off of the road had to have taken the temp to the low 100’s. I just kept exchanging bottles (one in me and one on me), popping electrolyte tablets (I was taking them every 20 minutes during the ride) and tried to maintain a steady pace through the rest of the ride. At some point I found a couple gel packs (little pouches of carbohydrate gel) and forced them on my stomach as well as some shot blocks that I had in my bento box. About a mile from the end of the bike ride I caught Brian. Normally there is no way I could have closed a 6 mile gap on him (600 yards would be tough), but he’d decided to take it easy the last part of the ride to save a little more energy for the run which is his weakest part and where he often struggles. When I hit the end of the ride I got off my bike and ran it the .2 miles back into transition and grabbed the bag w/ my run gear.

I struggled out of my bike clothes and into my running gear and clumsily stuffed bike stuff into the transition bag. Brian joined me shortly after I got into the tent and we chatted for a while. I was still very hot (by this point the air temp had reached 98deg) and hoping a couple extra minutes would help cool me down. Finally ran out of tent, hit porta potty again, and took off on the run with my carb drink. The early part of the run was rather uneventful. I only got about ½ of my carb drink in me before tossing it. The upset stomach combined with bouncing from the run proved too much for it. Every mile I came to an aid station and drank some water or Gatorade and splashed some water on myself, every 3 miles I popped an electrolyte tablet and every 4 miles I forced in a gel pack. I ran the first half of the marathon at a fairly strong steady pace. The heat was tough, but I thought I was keeping the pace down enough to handle it. About 4 miles into the run I saw a pro on the way in who was walking which unfortunately bolstered my self confidence. On my way in from the 1st of 2 laps I saw both Brian and Jennifer and cheered them on and received cheers back. I ran through the turn around for the second lap and all of the cheering from the crowd must have given me a shot of adrenaline because I picked up the pace for a couple of miles. It was during this stretch that I started feeling a chill off and on and part of me thought that it seemed weird because I thought I should be sweating more than I was. I was puzzled by this but kept running and a few miles later I saw Brian and Jennifer again going the other way. The chills slowly got worse and I started feeling a little lightheaded which didn’t make sense to me because I’d been drinking plenty and getting my electrolytes as well as some gel packs. I don’t know why, but about a ¼ mile before the 18th aid station I started walking. When I got to the aid station I started drinking everything I could get my hands on and shoving any and all food into my mouth and soaking myself with cold sponges. The food was hard to keep down but I did it somehow. I kept walking the next mile to the next aid station where I did the same thing. About ¼ mile after that aid station I started jogging slowly and stopped about 200 yds short of the next aid station. I walked to and through that aid station, primarily getting a drink and another cold sponge, hit the porta potty and within 100ft started running again at a little faster pace. The next 2 I stopped only at the aid station and walked just long enough to get a drink, grab a sponge and took off, each time at a faster pace. The next aid station I ran through grabbing a drink and sponge on the way and I totally skipped the last one because I had recovered enough that I had a fast pace going and wanted to hold it through to the finish.
Looking back I know that I suffered greatly from the heat and my problems started during the swim. I didn’t realize it until well after the race (a day or two later) how bad I really was between the clumsiness, confusion, stomach problems (some was from river water, but I don’t think all of it was), chills, etc. I probably bordered on heat exhaustion all day and actually crossed into it during the run. Fortunately I stopped running in time, which was not done as a conscious effort on my part, and cooled off enough to avoid serious problems. The one good thing was that I maintained a high level of hydration and kept my electrolytes up, if I hadn’t, I might not only have not finished, but would probably have ended up in the ER. Unfortunately, that may have also been part of the problem for me recognizing what was going on. I was confused enough, but there were no cramping issues to help warn me.
But, I survived with no long lasting ill effects and finished in a strong time, 11:40:58, which I am still totally stoked about.

Thinking back, the important lesson to me is that no matter how knowledgeable you are about heat illness and careful you are, you can still be in danger of sucombing to them. I'm an athletic trainer and work with athletes in very hot, humid conditions, I teach first aid and CPR to my coaches and really emphasize being aware of the signs and symptoms. Despite this, I was almost overcome by the heat, myself. Upon further reflection I'm confident that I was suffering from heat exhaustion and bordering on heat stroke. Learn the signs and symptoms, prepare for the heat, and race smart.