IronMan Cozumel - TriathlonFull Ironman

As we walked out on the pier, the Chankanaab trainers had the dolphins doing tricks. It was a nice touch, but that park isn't exactly impressive. Those dolphins don't seem happy to me, not like the ones at the Dolphinarius. It took a few minutes to get all 2000+ people into the water, so it involved some treading water. I reminisced of a time when treading water for a minute nearly killed me, now I'm doing it for 5-10 with no real problems. The crowd was getting hyped up and when we knew there was about a minute before the gun, probably half the swimmers(myself included) started screaming with excitement. It was cathartic; we were all ready to get going & you could tell the racers were primed to take off. We were like the soldiers in Braveheart, but with spandex instead of kilts & sunscreen instead of face paint. Also, none of us had battle axes, which might have come in handy on the turns. They started playing U2's 'Beautiful Day' - which is becoming about as cliche as 'Eye of the Tiger' at this point, but I still love it - and the gun went off.

I lined up close to the buoys but near the back to let everyone beat each other up & spread out before I came through. It worked well, I had a lot of clear water for the first few hundred yards. This type of swim works well for me; the ability to see the bottom of the ocean meant I could sight off things on the bottom rather than pulling my head up to look at landmarks. I just kept picking things at the bottom & keeping people on my right(where I breathe) and swam along at a good pace. I probably only had to sight off things above the water maybe a couple dozen times, tops. It was a great boost to my comfort level. I don't think I got stung by jellyfish more than 1-2 times; between all the people and my jellyfish repellent sunscreen, that worked out great. I saw a few jellyfish, but they were far enough below me that I didn't have to dodge them. I didn't come in contact with others that much either, relatively speaking. One time I locked arms with a girl next to me & a couple times near the 1st two turns I had to run over/around somebody, but generally the water was clear. I even drafted off a couple people here and there.

Not much, it went just about right.

I came out of the water feeling pretty good, and I walked(no need to repeat the Redman fiasco) over to the changing tent. I was unprepared for the chaos in the men's changing tent; it's a madhouse in there. I read the first of two notes from my girlfriend and it was great, she hit the mark perfectly. I got my bike stuff on, double-dosed on the sunscreen, and headed off to my bike(which was pretty far away). As I was walking my bike out through the crowd, I yelled "VIVA MEXICO!" which pumped the crowd up. Yea, I pandered, I have no shame. It gets worse later.

Bring a towel to wipe down, get out of the tent a little faster.

I set out on the bike, feeling great & ready to start making some time. I wasn't trying to blister the course or anything, but I wanted to take advantage of the (relatively) light wind while remaining in the right HR zones. It took a few miles - and my cadence sensor wasn't working the entire time so I was guessing on pedaling effort level - but I started getting settled into the right zone and put in a decent early pace. About 5 miles in a guy passed me and hit a fallen Gu packet with his front wheel, which shot Gu over my left arm, hip, and stomach. I felt like I was in a bad porn blooper. The ride down to the south end of the island wasn't bad, the wind was worse than I suspected but not the worst I'd ever been in by a long shot. I rolled around the south end of the island & turned up the east side where I was greeted by a gorgeous sight. The beach wasn't more than 15 feet away, there were beautiful waves, and lush vegetation. It was a Hollywood commercial picture of pretty beaches. It was also making me nauseous, though I didn't realize the salty sea water was the cause until the 2nd loop. I hunkered down to deal with the cross-winds(which weren't unmanageable but persistent & I was sporting my tri-spokes, which love to catch cross-winds like a pair of sails) and slowly pedaled my way up the side of the island for 12-14 miles. After that, it was a left turn back towards civilization, complete with a decent tailwind. I used the tailwind to pick up some time, probably pushing a bit more than I should but not blowing it out...until I hit the crowds a few miles down the road. Let me tell you, the town _turns out_ for this race. They were yelling & cheering & shaking noisemakers for miles, and that along with the tail-wind got me into the big ring pushing >20mph. Going through town was a sh*t ton of fun with all the businesses blaring music & people screaming in Spanish. So yea, I went balls to the wall for a few miles, averaging probably 24mph. I paid for it later, but it was fun. I passed through town, saw my girlfriend at the hotel, and headed out for a 2nd lap.

The down side to all that support is that it makes the unpopulated part of the island feel that much more desolate. It's like rolling through a stadium then hitting wilderness, it's a bit of a letdown. At this point my average was solid but not great, ideas of a sub-15 hour finish were starting to fade as I now had a pretty good idea of what the route entailed. The 2nd lap was pretty non-descript; I just kept pedaling, slowly moving along the map & dealing with minor discomforts. I had a water bottle shoved in the back pocket of my tri-suit that was starting to bother my lower back & didn't have many choices on where to stash it. I couldn't ditch it because it was half of my Infinit nutrition, but my back was really starting to bug me. I ended up zipping my tri-suit most of the way and stashing it in the front. It was a little unorthodox and I'm sure I looked like a jackass, but I felt better. I had brought 4 bottles(5 including the one that had my spare tire in it); 2 Infinit & 2 for water. I did it because I wasn't taking a chance on the aid stations being too far apart for me to get water, but after a loop I realized that wasn't a big deal. So I made the decision that I'd ditch one of my Camelbak bottles in favor of the bottles they were handing out & when the Infinit was done in the 1st bottle I'd ditch that one too, thus solving the problem of where to put the last bottle. That's one problem solved, the other dealt with sunscreen. I put on sunscreen in T1, but with the way the sun was beating down there was no way 1 application would be enough, so I stopped at an aid station on the 2nd lap and snagged some of their sunscreen. I didn't get everything, but hit the arms, face, & top of my legs...all the places that were getting the most sun. Anyway, it was off to pedal some more. This is what I failed to account for in my training/planning; if you live in an area that has any hills - I mean _any_ hills - you're used to getting little breaks in your rides on the downhills. With a route that's as flat as Keira Knightley's chest, there are no breaks. You're pedaling for the entire 112 miles, period. I think this is the single biggest factor to why I didn't do better on the ride; it was like a 7+ hour trainer ride, just with better scenery. If you'll pardon me for a second, saying "7+ hour trainer ride" made me involuntarily throw up in my mouth a little bit and I have to fix it.

*walks off*
*gargles Listerine*
*walks back*

OK, where were we? Oh right, the 2nd lap. It was dull, flat, and even the pretty surroundings didn't help when I was dealing with salty-air-induced nausea. I made it around more slowly this time...well, kinda. The first 2 laps were basically the same speed around the island, except for the part with the tailwind. That's the place I was making up time the 1st lap, but on the 2nd lap I didn't blow it out so my average looks slower. Really, it was that I didn't push as hard with the tailwind. I stopped & talked with my girlfriend this time around, getting some water & telling her a little about how I felt. She noticed I was really salty & told me to keep up with the fluids; I hadn't really noticed because with the wind I wasn't feeling very hot. I had been taking in a little Gatorade here and there in addition to my water & Infinit, but I decided I'd take more in the 3rd lap just to be safe. Oh, and the hotel brought me a cold towel. I'll get to how much the Cozumel Palace rocks later, but it really is awesome.

The 3rd lap was just surviving. I wasn't super tired, but I knew I was working harder to maintain the same speed & could tell the juice wasn't really there. A sub-15 hour finish was pretty much out of the question at this point. I had to stop every few miles as much for a mental break as physical; I had been out there for a long time, I was tired of being in the saddle, but I couldn't push harder for fear of what might happen on the run(how little I knew what lie ahead). It really was like being on the trainer for too long, I was grumpy & ready to get off the bike. A couple of us who were out there together were talking about the wind; we noticed it had picked up and thought it moved more out of the southeast. There are 2 implications to this finding: 1) the ride to the south end of the island was going to suck, & 2) it meant a better tailwind on the east side of the island. Only one of these conclusions was correct, and I'll give you 3 guesses which one. The ride down to the south end was riding in a wind tunnel; it wasn't the worst wind I've ever been in, but I was tired enough that it affected me more than it would have on the 1st lap. All I wanted was to see the Jamaican restaurant because it meant I was about to turn into the tailwind, but the ride down felt like it took forever. I finally got to the south end, turned around, and quickly realized that the wind wasn't a tailwind. It was a straight crosswind, period. The wind wasn't constantly blowing hard but there were gusts, one of which nearly wrecked me. I had reached back to grab my Infinit & was about to take a drink when I started to drop the bottle. I caught it but at the same time a wind gust hit my front wheel and caused me to nearly jack-knife. I corrected in time, but it was close and I had to turn around to pick up the bottle. To put in perspective what the crosswind was like, there was a vulture - who had just finished swooping down to go after a dropped bottle right in front of me a couple minutes earlier - gliding in the wind right above me. He wasn't more than 20 feet away, and he just hung above me. The symbolism wasn't lost on me. A few miles later I made it to the turn into the actual tailwind and spent those miles pedaling very lightly as I felt like a decent amount of recovery time would be helpful for the upcoming run. I knew I was in no danger of missing the cut-off so I took it as easy as I could, which was no easy task as it was all I could do not to think about the joy of getting off the bike. The crowd had dispersed a lot, you could tell a lot of them had migrated to the run course. The people were still very nice & supportive, there just weren't as many. Finally, I made the turn & got out of my shoes before hitting the dismount line. Standing up...felt....awe.some.

Work on my bike fitness; I was good enough to finish, but not finish strong. I also would have tailored my training more to the course than I did.

I was so happy to be off the bike that I sat down for a minute in the changing tent and appreciated that I made the cutoff before getting changed & heading out to the run. I'm sure I could have cut a few minutes off this transition, but it doesn't really bother me at all. I still had a long day ahead(this was my 1st marathon) and I wasn't quitting. I read my second letter from my girlfriend and again she captured the moment perfectly. It's almost like she's done one of these. ;)

Bring a towel to wipe myself down.

Here was my plan for the run, given the training limitations I dealt with from the sprained toe: Do a 4/2 run/walk and keep my HR in check.

Pretty much none of that happened. I couldn't keep my HR in check because my Garmin wasn't registering the HR strap, so that was out. The 4/2 happened some, but infrequently. My girlfriend was waiting for me at the beginning of the run & said she'd start looking for me at the end of the 1st loop(8.7 miles) in ~90 minutes, but that "it was OK if I got there sooner". I tried not to laugh out loud at the idea of me breaking out an 11 min/mile pace.

During my first interval, I started having what I'll call 'chest pains'. It wasn't like I was having a heart attack and it wasn't like a cramp, it was just a pain that happened around my ribs when I started breathing heavy. That obviously limited my running from the get-go, but it didn't last. I had myriad other problems that limited me later on, but that one was only at the beginning. ;) Overall the 1st lap wasn't too bad, I just didn't have a lot of juice to keep up the 4/2 ratio without starting to overheat so there were some 3/3s and a couple 2/4s. The pace was reasonable given my condition, but I wasn't exactly blowing it out. I still was looking at a 5-ish hour marathon, which would get me into the finish line with a ton of time to spare. It wasn't until near the end of the 1st lap that I started getting cramps in my inner quads, but that's only a glimmer of what was to come. At the end of my 1st lap, the girlfriend offered me some a Red Bull. I gave her a "are you f*cking MENTAL" look and said "only bad things would come of that". Her heart was in the right place, but drinking a Red Bull with that much time left in my workout would turn the last lap into some sort of outtake from Mad Max. I'd be stumbling along in an uninhabited wasteland, delirious and looking for water. Not a good idea at that point. (I say this as a Red Bull expert. I've drank that stuff in just about every conceivable scenario and know when it would likely lead to my death, like drinking it about 20 minutes before hitting the weights at a gym. Trust me on this.)

I'm stopping down here for a second because I feel there's an important piece of information people need to know: Ironman race directors are sadists. That's the only possible explanation for why they would put the run turnaround FIVE FEET from the entrance to the finisher's chute. They want you to see the end, to see other people finishing, to have the crowd mistakenly congratulating for completing the Ironman...then have to deal with the soul-crushing moment where you turn around and look out at the course and realize you have to go out there again. It's like somebody said you have to repeat a year of junior high combined with every time you got turned down for a date, wrapped in a tortilla made of kicks to the groin...and that's just the 1st time around. They are some sick, sick bastards.

The 2nd lap is where things started to fall apart. I still had the quad cramps which would fire up every couple minutes, but at one point when I went to stretch them by pulling my leg up behind me that started my hamstring cramping on me. All I could say was "well, I guess stretching's out" and keep going. I wasn't doing many 4/2s on this lap, mostly 3/3s with some 2/4s. About 3 miles into the 2nd lap is when my left Achilles started seizing up on me; needless to say, this is a limiter when you're trying to run. I had to change tactics and went to a 1min jog/2min walk ratio; if I could squeeze out another 30 seconds of jogging I would, but it became apparent partway through the 2nd lap that I couldn't jog more than 60 seconds at a time before something would start cramping/locking up. Yea, goodbye to the 5-ish hour marathon. I was doing the math & knew that every mile I could do in under 15 minutes padded my time for later, and given how things were going I thought I'd need it. I got to the end of the 2nd lap & talked to my girlfriend while I walked. She asked me how I was doing, offered some words of encouragement, and kicked me in the ass(figuratively). I had to make The Sadist's Turnaround again and I said - rather loudly - that I'd pay any spectator $1000 cash to run the 3rd lap for me. They thought I was joking and laughed. I wasn't laughing.

The 3rd lap was the 1/2 ratio pretty much the whole way. When I say it was 1 minute jogging, we're talking 45-60 seconds at a 12:30-ish pace. It wasn't pretty, but it was progress. I could have walked the whole 3rd lap and made it, but I didn't want to take a chance on screwing up the cushion and every minute I could jog got me a little closer to the end. I was motivated to get done with this lap as quickly as my body would allow. On a side note, there was an Italian guy who was going about my speed on the 3rd lap. We were trying to talk about how much time was left, but he spoke just enough English to say "Scusi, me English bad". It got down to counting on my hands to show him the pace he needed to finish, and I'm still not sure he got it. That 1 year of Italian in college really paid dividends, huh?

I think one of my bigger realizations is that an Ironman is a microcosm of a lifespan; as time goes on in the race, things start to malfunction. I've already regaled you with the issues I had up to this point, but the 3rd lap had its own challenges. At one point I felt something sharp in my shoe and the sock started feeling warm & wet(kinda like something was bleeding); thanks to a friend warning me about IM finishers losing toenails I started to wonder if I had lost a toenail. Right then an ambulance pulled up to a spot about 100 yards ahead & stopped for a bit, so I decided to sit down by the ambulance & check out my foot. I figured if the toenail was gone, they could give me a band-aid so I could finish. The hardest part about this scenario was actually sitting down; my legs were so tired that I couldn't really bend them much. What I did was more of an ungraceful slow-fall than sitting down, but I took off the sock to see that I was fine(relatively speaking). I got back up(slowly) and shuffled off into the night. As we were nearing the turnaround, the Italian guy shuffled by, got my attention, & pointed up at the sky. I looked up and saw about a million stars; it's easy to forget to look around when you're out there. Amidst the pain & suffering this guy's still able to appreciate the beauty of the night sky, you have to respect him for that. I made the turnaround and was heading back, it was at this point I started noticing the people still behind me and wondering what was going through their heads. I was going to make it but the further I went, the further behind these people I crossed were. There was an imaginary line somewhere along the way where everyone behind it was too slow and I don't know exactly where it was, but you could see the looks on their faces & know they were very aware that time was a commodity they didn't have much of. That kept me going as well, I didn't want to end up further behind. Apparently I wasn't looking so hot; I stopped at the run special needs bag station to grab the last couple Gu packets & a Red Bull out of the bag, as they were looking for the bag I was basically doubled over with my hands on my knees. A lady there asked me if I was OK, I looked at her with a smirk and said "Yea, I'm fine...just slow". I took the packets & Red Bull and headed off to the last 4 miles, sipping the Red Bull along the way. I only drank about 1/4 of it because I didn't want to tempt fate; I've been dumb enough to drink a full one at the end of a 1/2IM and nearly blew out my knees trying to run faster than I was capable. I just wanted a little pick-me-up so I was interchanging it with water, which led to what was probably the funniest thing nobody saw all day. I took a drink of water and it went down the wrong pipe, as I coughed my entire upper abs cramped and the rest of my core was so tired that it made me stumble to the right & almost fall over. I spent about a minute doubled over, trying to figure out how to cough without coughing. (Hint: you can't do it) Eventually I recovered enough to keep going, but I ditched the rest of the Red Bull. The last 3 miles were fairly non-descript, honestly. I just plodded along with my 1/2 pace and made it back to town. With about a mile left, I ran across an old Mexican lady who was cheering her ass off. This lady was 70 if she was a day & here she was at nearly 11pm still cheering as hard as she was 7 hours before. This is somebody's grandmother and she was out-cheering the rest of the spectators every time I passed by her, so I went over to her, told her "muchas gracias" and gave her a kiss on the cheek which she responded in kind. She was beaming and started cheering even harder; that grandma was awesome.

With a little less than a mile to go, I see my girlfriend approaching. She came up to walk me in, which was awesome of her. We talked a little bit as we walked in and she told me how proud she was of me, which meant the world to me. With about 200 yards to go, she got some people to take a picture of us, kissed me, and told me to head on in to the finisher's chute. As demoralizing as the turnaround was on the first 2 laps, it was just as awesome on the 3rd. People are cheering you on in Spanish & English, congratulating you for what you've done. I walked in giving high fives, clapping to the crowd that remained there, and made the turn into the finisher's chute. The moment was surreal; I walked in, saw the bright light and the crowd, and just started smiling. I decided I was going to milk it for all it was worth, so I started running from side to side, doing the Hulk Hogsn "ear to the crowd" bit to get them more excited. It worked like a charm, the crowd went nuts to the point I didn't even really hear the announcers call me an Ironman. I'm not ashamed, that shit was GREAT. I only wish there was video of it, because I'd have that playing on my tomb after I'm dead. I made sure to pop the jersey I made for the event; on the front it said "I CAN'T" with a red X covering the "'T" and on the back it said "I DIDN'T" with the same red X covering the "'T". I can, and I did, you're goddamn right.

Rent a Vespa

After I crossed the line, a Red Cross doctor walked with me asking me questions about how I felt. I told him it was an accomplishment in and of itself that I didn't end up in the medical tent because it's the first time I've finished a 1/2IM or longer and NOT received treatment. Go me. I got my medal, my seashell necklace(don't ask, I have no idea), and pics of me against the Ironman backdrop. I ate some food & got a rubdown by a woman who spoke enough English to say "face down" or "face up". I was putty in her hands and she worked me over something fierce. After that I met up with my girlfriend, got my bike, and slowly walked back to the hotel. We stopped at the finisher's chute to see the last 10 minutes of the race; one girl made it in with 2 minutes to spare, it was awesome to hear the crowd cheer for her and see the look of determination & pain on her face as she made the turn into the finish line. We made it back to the hotel where I ordered some fish & rice and made myself a drink; I took a shower sitting down - I could have stood, I just didn't want to stand anymore - and ate the food, then passed out.

Speaking of the hotel, I can't recommend the Cozumel Palace highly enough. The rooms are fantastic, the service is unparalleled, and I ate enough food to make up for at least one night's stay there. It's all-inclusive and they really mean all-inclusive. I didn't pay for a thing other than tips the entire time I was there. The location is fantastic for spectators; it's across the street from the convention center where they have packet pick-up, the bike course goes right by the front of the hotel, and the run finish is less than a block away. It's not cheap, but it was worth every penny.

I really can't thank my friends & family enough for everything they did and the support they gave. My parents & sister were awesome in their letters, emails, & texts and my friends were there for me when I needed them. I'd like to especially thank Tim & Craig; Tim came out to ride a rally with me unannounced and Craig came & saved my ass on a road out in BFE when I needed a lift. Both of these acts meant a lot to me. The biggest thank you has to go to my girlfriend; she was awesome in every possible way throughout this whole ordeal. From her letters in the transition areas to her words of encouragement on the sidelines to all the help she offered post-race, she was phenomenal. Thank you, baby, you're a dream come true. I couldn't have done it without you.


My body.


The race is very well organized, only once on the bike did I hit an aid station where they didn't have water(it was restocked the next time around) and the run stations had anything I needed. The volunteers were very helpful, the shirts were nice, and most everything was pretty convenient. The only problems were minor(I've mentioned them already), but I'd only rate a race a '5' if it was flawless.