Whoa! I've never quite experienced the washing machine to that extent. I got dunked several times, I hope by accident. I was grabbed several times, and I'm sorry, but that's not by accident and totally inexcusable in my book. But mostly there was just an awful lot of incidental contact and congestion. I was swimming strongly, and mostly wanting to pass people, but it was difficult sometimes with a phalanx of swimmers in front. I had to stop a few times because there was just nowhere to go. After the first turn, there was the occasional moment of clear water, but things didn't really clear up until the final turn to the finish.

I'm OK with the time, especially given my dearth of swim training. I never really pushed hard, and pushed semi-hard only a couple of times to try to get clear of the worst congestion. I did experience a cramp in my right calf at one point mid-way, but it was relatively minor. I swam through it, and it went away and didn't affect anything the rest of the day.

I need to learn to go out hard for 400 then ease into a long-course pace. Doing so would likely help somewhat with the issue of wanting to pass people but not being able due to congestion. Of course, being able to do that and then recover requires actual training.

I put on arm warmers in T1. In retrospect, they were not necessary, and they definitely slowed my T1 a good deal, what with the wet arms and all. In light of the chilly morning on Saturday, I had purchased them at the expo for the race (I left mine at home) and damnit, I was going to wear them! Ironically, they said 'Aquaman' on them (beggars can't be choosers), which is a far cry from the truth, but it gave some guys in bikinis on Mt. Horeb something to chant as I climbed past them (lol). Other than the delay getting them on, T1 was fine. The volunteer who helped me was fantastic--kudos to him.

Right out of the gates I felt good, but really focused on keeping things under control. I knew that there was a no-pass zone coming up near the start, so I got around a few slow cyclists so that I wouldn't get caught behind them. I was feeling good about that move and then, right before the no-pass zone, I hit a big bump and my water bottle went flying, breaking the cap. I salvaged what I could from it, but of course lost the (admittedly tiny) advantage I had gotten by getting around those guys before the no-pass, as well as most of the water, and -- at least I think this is when it happened -- the lid to my draft box. Apparently I rode 20 miles with it flopping around back there until another cyclist alerted me about it. I replaced it while riding, but later I would have to get off and fix it. Twice...

Anyway, other than that minor fiasco, the first few hours were pretty good. I was on sub-5:30 pace, keeping the Watts under control, and feeling fine. By the second loop, the course was somewhat clearer, though we did begin to see some folks on their first loop. I hope this doesn't come out wrong -- I cannot imagine being in their shoes. I think it was Bill Rodgers who complimented AG marathoners by saying that he couldn't even imagine running for 4 hours. Passing some of these folks and knowing that they would be out there riding for another 6 hours or so made me want to cry for them.

Anyway, back to reality, around hour 4, I started to feel queasy, just as I have in many of my long training sessions this summer. I still don't know what to do about it. I eased up on calories, but to no avail. Around 30 minutes later, I hopped off the bike and puked in the bushes. Other than that, my only delay was that I had to stop twice in the second loop to put the damn draft box lid back on. I tried putting it on while riding, but couldn't really get it secure. I used to tape it shut, but I thought I had solved that problem. I guess not. I will tape it from now on. Compared to all of the equipment failures I had prepping for this ride during the past week, this one was pretty minor.

Overall my Watts were quite steady throughout most of the ride, though diminishing a bit towards the end. It amazed me to see guys hammering up the big hills, then coasting down the other side. So they'd fly past me going up, then I'd fly back past going down and on the flats. I say it 'amazed' me, but I admit that it also triggered a lot of self-doubt and desire to hammer away that self-doubt -- I had to keep reminding myself that there was still that marathon thing to take care of.

Speaking of other cyclists, I was a bit disappointed to see a fair amount of drafting on this ride, especially by one particular group that was making no effort to break themselves up even when there were easy opportunities to do so. After seeing it for about 2 hours, and as I was passing them on the flats yet again, I said something -- not even in a harsh tone, just "I know it's crowded, but let's try to keep it clean" -- and the reply was "F&# you, we'll ride however we want." Sad to hear, but I have to assume that the 'we' in there implied that they were working consciously as a group. As poor as my run was, I think I passed all of them by the end, so "F&# you too." Sad that you draft and then still blow up on the run, lol.

On the point of queasiness, I have no idea. That's something to be worked out. But frankly, I have known for months that it is an issue, and I have not been sufficiently aggressive about finding a solution. I have no one but myself to blame for what happened out there. As for the rest, my bike training just was not up to snuff. Still, it was enough to get me through with a decent split, and feeling pretty good, so overall, I'm pleased with my execution, if not with my preparation.

Although I was definitely ready to get off the bike, and in spite of the puking incident, I was feeling good, and was able to get through T2 fairly quickly, despite changing from the tri top into a running top. Once again I doff my cap to the guy who helped me in T2. Another winner in my book. Thank you whoever you are. One little tip that worked out well -- I taped a small tube of sunscreen to the back strap of my hat, and pulled it off at the beginning of the run and applied it while running. I stuck the tube into my shorts until the first aid staton where I ditched it. Doing it this way saved a little time and allowed me the leisure of making sure that I got all of the important areas covered without feeling rushed in T2. Today I have slight redness on the back of my neck, and otherwise no issues with sun.

Nothing, really.

My 'realistic‘ goal from the night before was to run something like 8:15/mile. That's how it went down...for a short while.

I was leery about taking in nutrition after what happened on the bike, but at some point I had to take in something. Around mile 3 or so (I forget) I did take a gel and immediately that felt like a mistake. My stomach started grumbling, and after a while each footfall felt like a punch to the gut. I slowed slightly, but I ran through it until mile 9, when I stopped and threw up into a trash can in the park. I will say this for the IMWI course: it had convenient locations to puke. From mile 9 to 14 or so, I threw up 3 or 4 more times. Something like that. I stopped keeping score.

At one point during this dark period, I sat down on the side of the road and put my head in my hands, fully intending to quit. I intended my next move to be to walk to the finish line and find my family. I couldn't bear the thought of going on. And yet, after sitting there for a few minutes, I couldn't bear the thought of quitting. I was one confused person. For the first time in a long time (as in, years, not days), I felt unable to think rationally, unable to control the situation, unable to control myself, frustrated, confused, and somewhat dazed.

I don't recall why I got up, nor do I recall having a rational train of thought -- the memory is more of a disconnected series of emotions than of thoughts, more like hazy recollections of people -- incuding myself and also some others here on BT -- sucking it up and going on in the face of very good reasons to quit. I think maybe those recollections had something to do with it, but honestly, I couldn't say exactly why I continued. I just did.

Once I started running again, the rational part of my brain kicked back into gear, and I started thinking about how to survive. I decided to wait until I was craving food before eating again, though I did keep drinking water. Around mile 16 or 17, I started back on calories -- no gels, just sports drink. Then at mile 19, I started with the Coke. I was feeling better, and the pace quickened. I thought of nothing other than keeping good form. I knew the pace was silly slow, and I didn't care -- it became all about 'lift the knees', 'stand tall', 'try not to tighten up'. I was passing loads of people -- almost everyone around me was walking at this point -- and that helped to make me feel stronger. The volunteers and spectators were great too. By the end I was really running, and it felt good.

I was running strong down the chute, and I saw my family as I crossed the line. I think this was the first time I ever raised my arms in 'triumph' as I crossed the line, but that's how it felt at the time.

Again the issue was with preparation, not execution.

Warm-down, now that's funny. As soon as I crossed, I nearly collapsed. I had a great finish-line catcher and he dragged me over to a chair, where I sat for some indeterminate length of time. Then I did the picture (which I've now seen and it is scary), and tried to eat, but couldn't. I was getting colder and colder and nothing was helping, so I asked to be taken back to the hotel. Misty and Samuel collected my things while my parents stayed with me. They kept adding the Mylar blankets, but I kept getting colder and colder. Finally we made it back to the hotel and I sat under a warm shower for an eternity. I tried to eat but still couldn't and just went to bed.


I think that's clear by this point -- (lack of) preparation in various forms. I will not do another IM until two conditions are met. First, I have figured out how to eat during a long session without nausea and especially without throwing up. Second, I can guarantee myself sufficient time to train without compromising family. If those conditions are never met, I can live with it.


First: thanks to all the volunteers and fans that I encountered at IMWI -- you were great. You helped to make the race something special.

In addition to the point about preparation above, I think that I am just not ready for IM. I am going to take (at least) a year off and focus on shorter distances, and then we'll see.