Ironman Chattanooga - Triathlon

As I looked into the river and downstream toward where the swim out would be I began to become very focused on the day. I began to have a laser beam on the goal of the day. Besides racing for Pinky Swear Foundation I wanted to execute a race well. I haven't executed well since my first Ironman in 2014 and today was going to put me back on track.
I jumped in the water holding my goggles on my head beacuse I didn't want a repeat of last year when my goggles came off teh top of my head as I went under the surface during my entry. Once in the water and back to the surface I glanced quickly downstream and took off.
I had anticipated a reasonable amount of body contact upon entry but didn't really have any. It seemed as if everyone was able to pick their own space and begin their swim without much congestion.
Normally the first few minutes of the swim are somewhat hectic and adrenaline is a factor in getting moving at an acceptable pace. Normally I start off really strong to try to place some of the other front row swimmers behind me. This type of swim is much easier to get into trace mode and an effective pace without undue stress.
The first couple of hundred yards were pretty easy and calculated. I had picked my line and was able to remain very close to the desired line. The plan was to sight between every other marker buoy to keep me as straight as possible. This took some off teh corners and allowed me to maintain a straighter line throughout the entire race.
As I neared the island, about 25% through the course I could see the guards in their Kayak's steering me back toward teh buoys. I began to make the course change as requested but was still keeping with my strategy. I did not take a direct line toward the markers as this would have lengthened the course.
As I swam throughout the course I could feel the effort was solid, maybe about where I should be swimming for Ironman swims all of teh time. I wonder if I have relaxed a little too much during the past swims resulting in slower times than I am capable of swimming. It also made me wonder if I was swimming to hard for this early in the race. I assessed how I felt, my breathing depth, frequency and if I was labored. Nothing came back to me as if I were in any sort of heavily loaded effort. I felt strong and solid.
Once I cold begin to see the first bridge I began to get al title more excited. AS I recalled this would have been nearing the halfway point of the swim. I checked my watch, several times, to see how I was doing. The several times was because I didn't believe what I was seeing, I was ahead of where I felt I would be at this point. So the next buoy I crossed I checked the number. I was just short of the halfway point so I didn't get excited just yet about being ahead. There was along way to go yet.
Now I could see the Walnut St. bridge in the distance and was prepared for the second half. I passed the halfway marker and checked my watch. I was shocked at how much further ahead I was for time. I knew my fitness had gotten a little bit better over the cycle but to be a couple of minutes ahead of last year seemed unreal.
It wasn't long before the sight of the sheer rock wall dropping into the river was next to me. This is my favorite part of the swim by far. There is something majestic about that wall to me. Last year I recall thinking about the formation and how it was formed. To this point I had been breathing to my right side more than the left, but I began to switch the dominant side for al little while so I cold take it in, maybe for the last time in a swim.
As my mind got lost in the beauty of the river swim I seemed to keep the pace going and it wasn't long before I was beginning the turn and navigating through the buoys and changing the side I would be seeing teh markers on for teh rest of the course. As I neared the swim out I had to shift so I could hold my line in a straight fashion. I needed to swim through the buoys and place them now on my right side to straighten the course.
I checked my watch another couple of times and wasn't really able to believe I was almost 5 minutes ahead of last years race. And with the red exit markers coming into view I knew I had been having the swim of my life.
TEH swim out now was in view and with one more check of my watch I could see that I was coming out strong and I felt like a million bucks too. As I exited teh water it was somewhat surreal that I wasn't seeming to breath particularly heavy, which is a pretty nice feeling knowing what the rest of the day would be holding.

I don't think much. I am still a bit out of sorts thinking I could swim sub 50 minutes and not by a little bit either,

I was all alone for my entire trip from teh swim out all the way into the tent. There was no one around me that I recall. It was a funny feeling because there were so many people but I was out and alone?
As I was running into bag pick area someone was yelling for me to come closer to them but I couldn't cut the corner quick enough. After all of these knee surgeries I guess I know I can't make sharp cuts. I made the run finally and was able to grab my bag and head into the tent.
Putting my things together was only a few seconds worth of time but I felt like I was dragging my feet. I recall stopping for a second and wondering what it was I had forgotten to place in my T1 bag. I hadn't forgotten anything but it sure felt like it. Things seemed to be going to good I guess.
In another few seconds I was out of teh tent, headed toward the sunscreen folks and down the long transition area to my bike.

Really for Ironman this was a good transition. I am not sure I would have done much different.
(Note: A quick check of my race report from last year and I was almost a full 2 minutes faster than last year.

After having such a good swim I was fired up and ready ride. The only problem was I had to control things early. After discussing with Zach the plan he'd sent a couple of days ago he and I agreed to hold the power down for the first 30 minutes of the ride. The goal for the first 10 miles (+/-) was 205 watts before dialing up to 210 and settling in. The problem I always seem to have is keeping myself from feeling like I have to hit that target within the first 10 minutes.
The way the bike course starts there is a small hill just about a quarter mile outside of T1. There's plenty of time to get your feet in to your cycling shoes as long as you aren't screwing around. I was on top of making sure I was in my shoes pretty quickly. But when I hit the hills I wasn't able to control the power as planned. The adrenaline of the swim and the race in general had me keyed up enough that I didn't even recognize how high the wattage I was pushing was. I was well above the power I was supposed to be pushing but I didn't realize it until I was halfway up the hill. When I realized I was well into Zn4 I was almost at the top of the hill but I still tried to dial it back a bit.
Once over this first hill I was back on top of things and was ready to get my mind right and settle in for the long haul. It became easier to do because of the focus I knew I had develop over the past couple of days. That initial surge was enough to wake me from the typical fog of early racing.
I had a couple of cyclists on my tail as I finished that short climb after having passed them on the hill. I settled down and slowly polled away from them as the course has a very slight downhill grade for al title bit.
The trip through town was familiar both because of last years race and the short ride Joanne and I had on Friday morning. I recalled the railroad crossings and the bumps in the road. today they had the tracks covered with some cushioning to help keep the bottle launches down but I was more worried about it taking a rider down. I didn't care for the way the tracks were covered.
Over the first loop of the course I thanks as many people as I could. All of the police staff manning road crossings, volunteers at aid stations and everyone else along the way. Sometimes I get so embedded in a race that I forget to do these small things that may make a difference to others. I didn't want to wait until the second loop because I know I would have forgotten because I would be fatigued.
The way south felt fast, really fast. I was seeing some splits that were faster than I was anticipating and feeling good. The urge to go faster and try to knock down some better power numbers were hard to hold back. Those first 30 minutes of the plan to hold 205 watts was hard to control, hard enough that I initially saw an NP of 207 watts after about 10 minutes. this however was the result of losing control on that first climb and then another little climb over a railroad track.
My objective over the few days leading up to the race was to become laser focused on hitting everything spot on. My nutrition goal was to take both bottles of fuel before the feed stop and one flask of EFS Liquid Shot. After a little over 10 miles I was now supposed to dial up to 210 watts and hold it for the remainder of the ride. AND to this point I was a little heavy on the power, about 25 miles in I was sitting at 212w and my HR was dead on target. I knew I needed to grab myself a little because if I kept the effort up I could be in trouble.
I started to watch more closely the dynamics I was tasked with controlling. Over the next few miles it became a little harder to hold the power low. There were a few hills coming that were going to keep me in the small ring and trying to spin in the lowest gear. Some of these climbs were enough to make me want to stand up out of the saddle.
On most of this section heading south myself and two other cyclists had been exchanging places during many of the rollers and hills. One of these men was the same one I had passed on the first hill out of transition. Each time we would reach a climb he would pass me while standing out of his saddle. Each time I became a little more agitated with the cycle. It was a back and forth game for a long time and many miles. I tried to maintain my power as close as possible and he would work his over.
In the aid stations he would slow quite a bit to grab some water while i would take a chance at making a bottle grab and keep going. This probably cost him a little bit of time wile I was capitalizing on time as much as I could. After having placed 5th AG at Ironman Steelhead 70.3 by one second I know how close it can be.
When I hit the final longer climb that led toward the turn on to Hog Jowl Rd. He was right on my tail as we neared the top but this one has a tricky turn at the bottom. When I was at the turn there were all kinds of event staff there as well as medical staff and an ambulance.
I as now headed north and the feed stop would be my next stop. I checked my fuel and took assessment of my targets. I was a little behind on my fueling, at least the fuel from the bottle, I was tracking well with the Liquid Shot. HR was still on target.
The northbound part of the course has a net elevation loss but there were plenty of rollers to take note of. This section of the route was little faster than the southbound but for some reason I didn't feel like I was riding as fast, but it was definitely faster. This net elevation loss would contribute to me losing ground on the bike and the run course later.
Keeping the momentum going throughout the ride can be somewhat challenging as the miles get longer and longer, but I was feeling good at this point. However, the fatigue that would come later was on my mind already and I was trying to make sure I didn't do anything to jeopardize my ability to maintain speed and power late in the ride.
There is a sort of long "climb" as we were headed north toward Chickamauga and the feed stop that seemed to get into my head a little bit last year. I had been riding well but felt the speed drop and I recall being frustrated a little last year. Having better knowledge of the course this year and being laser focused on goals I as taking the ride today much better.
Over the course of the rest of the first loop of the ride I was mostly alone. The rides I had previously been passing back and forth had now created a gap that kept them in front of me to where I couldn't see them. This was challenging in it's own right because I didn't want to let them go. I wanted to reel them back in. Instead I kept things in check and stayed steady.
The road winds around quite a bit as you head into Chickamauga so I knew I was getting close. I had tried to play catch up a bit on the fueling and had been able to get most of the calories in. The final bottle of 300 calories had only a couple of swigs left when I hit the feed stop so I felt like i was in good shape.
As I stopped in the feed stop area the volunteers were on top of getting me my fuel. I did notice as I was slowing that the riders I had been trading positions with were not stopping, they were feeding off the course. this got into my head a little bit too. I was losing valuable time to them, and one of them was in my age group.
As I collected my new bottles one of the volunteers commented on how fast I was and how few riders were ahead of me. "You only have 10 riders ahead of you" he said. I turned to him and said "Come on now!" And he smiled, chuckled and said, "Well maybe a few more." I thanked him and the others that had been gathering my things and took off.
It didn't take me long to get back up to speed and I noticed the crowd support was rally good. I don't recall noticing this last year but I think it was there. This year I think I had a slightly different mindset and wanted to take things in a little bit more. Within a short period of time I saw Lis snapping some pictures and waving as I passed. I tried to smile and wave at her as I kept riding. It really is good to see her out there chasing me around.
This marked the beginning of the second loop of the ride. There was still several miles before the actual second loop began but after stopping to refuel it becomes a mental thing because I was roughly half way through the ride. During the course of these few miles there is a decent long climb again. Most of it is reasonably easy stuff, only a minor sort of gradual incline. But there is one part that requires the small ring, an in my case, the lowest gear to keep from getting out of the saddle.
After making it to the top of the climb coming out of Chickamauga it was a nice downhill. I decided to take it on in the same manner as last year, don't stop pedaling. This first loop was pretty sparse with competitors again, same as last year. I kept the hammer down and was holding on to power targets for the most part. The downhill is not s steep decline and with my limitations on the bike I couldn't benefit from coasting downhill, it just wasn't that steep.
I made the turn to begin the second loop and was feeling strong. This is a point last year that I found how deep the hole was I had dug myself in to. My gut was feeling full and I took account of my HR for the first time here last year and found I was riding to hard. This year I was spot on! Feeling strong and ready to put the nails in the coffin of this bike ride. This entire ride was a laser focused effort to stay on top of the things that were going to make today the best ride I could make it.
After the turn I reevaluated tings and settled in to keep things moving strong. I checked nutrition, HR and NP/AP targets and knew I was in a good position.
One of the things I noticed after making the turn was how few riders I seemed to run in to. Last year it was almost immediate that I was having to pass riders constantly, this year was different. The riders seemed more strung out and I didn't have to place myself in any bad positions as I was passing them (meaning drafting/blocking positions). This has happened in many races and I always feel like I am jeopardizing my races with a potential penalty.
This part of the course had been ridden since today so I could more easily remember what was coming. I suppose there are pros and cons to having ridden a course before and doing loops on a course. THE cons seem to be that I know when it is going to get hard and when I’ll need to pull from the gutter my negative thoughts and try to get back in the right frame of mind. The harder part of the hills, where the road gets more rough, the missed bottle exchanges. Whatever it was I didn’t like about the first loop played over in my mind.
But the pros of the course loop also make for a tremendous benefit. As with the knowledge of the profile and harder climbing sections (there really aren’t many, AT ALL) I know whats coming and how to handle them. AND the roads overall are really good. This course really is the better of the courses I’ve ridden. More than anything is the speed this course seems to take. This is a fast course! Period! It’s not flat, but it rolls enough to allow for some seriously fast splits on the bike. So this is where I drove my mind… FAST! Having checked my average speed to this point in the race I was over 22 mph and feeling like I was riding faster than the first loop. However, I did know that the last 10-1 miles can become a real struggle to maintain power as the fatigue in your legs grows. But it was all about execution today. And Ironman isn’t for the faint of heart. “Keep moving forward!”
Approaching Hog Jowl Rd I knew it would require that little climb and descent that no one could take advantage of because of the cornering required to head north on Hog Jowl. I had gotten through the last aid station very quickly and had some really crisp bottle exchanges. That aid station is uphill allowing for slower speeds and more accurate exchanges, and I was through fast.
I got settled in for the short climb and reminded myself the road turns and “I am NOT going to crash!” Today has been a great day so far so NO CHANCES!
I made the turn and was headed north again. I recall thinking about how short the day was becoming but there was a long way to go. That laser focus came back and I dove back into execution. Zach and I had talked about letting the lion lose and I was feeling like it more and more. My sprint was beginning to soar as I watch the power stay in line and HR be in check, but I wanted to rip up the plan and let loose the dogs of war. “Keep in check for now! The time will come!” had become my mantra.
SO settled in and headed north I found myself thinking of the things to come, running mainly. Even with so much of the bike ahead of me I was developing my thoughts for the run. Again I thought of the kids from Pinky Swear. I knew I was going to be doing mental battle today and the war that was drawing closer was starting to work on my mind. I could feel some strength rising up to get ready, and I was willing to face those demons. My mantra had become “I am going to breathe!!” “I AM GOING TO BREATHE!!”
I had now come into a sort of valley after a long fast descent. This descent had me nearing the peak speed for the day, second only to the descent following Chickamauga. This downhill peaked my speed at 40 mph and I was 35-50 watts lower than my targeted power at this speed. I love going fast. It makes me feel fast and powerful on the bike and this helped me gather more confidence as things flew by me at what seemed like lightning speeds. There was definitely some adrenaline for this Junkie!
There was a tight turn coming up and I had a rider in front of me. As I approached the turn I knew I wouldn’t be able to make a pass prior to the turn so I was going to have to slow down more than I would have liked. This put me in a momentary frustration point because the rider was slowing so much. Being a FOP’er I knew I’d run into this occasionally but it’s hard to turn off the speed sometimes, especially given my mental state at the time; Fast. Fast. Fast.
Very soon after the turn I found one of the riders ahead of me that had exchanges positions so frequently during the first loop. Just as I felt might happen, he had burned his legs up climbing out of the saddle. I reeled him in short order and put him behind me. I felt like a king at the time. “See what happens when you take on too much in the early part of the ride Pal!” I cruised by him, nothing fast really, just cruised. I wondered what his thoughts were as I put him behind me.


**And then…
As I was approaching a creek crossing, a small bridge, a groundhog came from the west side of the road and onto the road surface crossing from west to east. He must have heard me and another rider coming because he was scooting!! I mean he was getting after it! I thought this could spell trouble for me and another rider.
As I saw him get on to the road surface I immediately began to gauge everything. I cut power to the pedals, glanced left using my peripheral vision, took account of my options to go right, tried to determine if I could come off the aero bars and go for the brakes. My final choice was to stay in the aero bars and hope I didn’t hit him or hopefully, if I did, ride it out.
Each option had it’s own set of risks so I had only a few seconds to make a decision and hope it was the best one.
The first option to slightly bear left wasn’t an option I felt was safe. I had passed a rider not long before and he was 30-40 feet behind me and to my left. I didn’t think this was the best option because if I went down after a collision with the groundhog I may well drag another rider on top of me. I didn’t like this for two reasons; If he went over top of me my injuries would likely be worse. Second, another rider would have been dragged down and possibly out of the race too. There was no way I could risk doing that to another athlete. One race ended would have been bad enough.
Option two was the ditch on the right side of the road. The risks here were possibly the worst of all the options. The bridge crossing that I was headed toward had a guardrail and the ditch along side was loaded up with trees and shrubs that would have been less forgiving and possibly have thrown me back into the guardrail if I had somehow been headed away from it. Then there was the creek bottom. While I was unable to see it the idea of being launched over the side of the bridge seemed less than an acceptable option.
The third option was to try to come out of the aero bars and try to brake. This option didn’t seem to be a good idea either because I din’t think I could get on the base bar quick enough to be able to handle hitting the animal. If I had missed the timing and had one hand on the base bar there seemed like there was no way to I was going to be able to control the bike. This option sees like it would have also place the other rider at risk as well.
The final option, the one I chose, seemed like the best but it wasn’t one I really wanted to choose either. I chose to stay in the aero bars and hold on for dear life.
As I watch the woodchuck continue across the road all I could do was break myself and hope that it wouldn’t come in to my front wheel, or if it did, I hoped to be able to control it.
To my recollection I cannot say if I ran squarely over the top or if it ran into the side of my front wheel. I can still recall the split second prior to contact. I can see it right at the base of my wheel. My suspicion is that I ran squarely over the top but I truly have no idea.
From this point on things became somewhat of a blur. I don’t recall if I took the bike over the top of me while still clipped in or if it launched over the top of me after contact. Regardless the next few things I remember are landing and beginning to roll and slide on the asphalt.
After the dust settled I was lying on the side of the road on my back clutching my head wondering what happened. I can honestly say my first thoughts were of the other cyclist behind me and who may be coming up behind him. I knew there were other cyclists coming and I hoped they could get around me without crashing. I had no idea where my bike was, nor really whether I was in the road or on the shoulder, not that there was much of one.
I turned my head up after I heard the first cyclist sped by telling someone, I can only assume it was one of the cars that stopped, to call for help. Only a second or so later I recall another rider yelling out as he rode by “Are you okay?” My response to him was a profound “Keep going!”
At this point I hadn’t even looked up to see what my injuries were. I just didn’t want someone else to have to stop and render aid to me and jeopardize their race.
After a few more seconds of disbelief and wondering if I’d be able to continue I began to attempt a self assessment. I could feel everything I thought I needed to feel, arms, legs, no pain in my back was noticeable and nothing seemed numb. I sat up and began to look myself over. As I was sitting up I did spot my bike across the road in the opposite lane. Once sitting up I could begin to feel the sting of pain all over my arms and legs. I first took notice of my legs. My knees were bloody with my right knee bleeding the worst. There was a small avulsion in my patella but I was unable to determine the depth because the blood was too thick. I was worried about this because of the last serious bike crash a few years ago. That one caused an avulsion that exposed muscle and tendon. My thoughts turned toward that injury and “what if” this Ione was as bad. The left knee, the one that has 3 surgeries under it, was bleeding and it appeared to be serious road rash.
I then checked my arms out. Both elbows were bleeding and being my elbows I couldn’t really see the damage very well. Most of what I could determine was that I was bleeding pretty well. As I stood up I noticed the feeling of blood running down my arms, looked down and saw it running down my legs in streams.
I stood by the side of the road for a few more moments as other cyclists were barreling down on me. I waited for them to clear past me and crossed the road.
During this time I noticed my bike on the opposite side of the road with the rear wheel spinning rather quickly. I don’t know how long I was down on the ground, although it didn’t seem very long, but sort of like an eternity at the same time, but I found it curious that the rear wheel continued to spin.
I also noticed a car stopped with a lady driving it. During the course of what would be 3 minutes of me on the ground or trying to pick up the pieces, so to speak, she just starred at me.
I made my way across the road, picking up my sunglasses on the way across, and began to look my bike over. I felt sure I was done for the day. I felt like there was no way I could have take the crash and eater myself or the bike allowed me to remain in the race. To my surprise the bike appeared to be in operational order and no obvious damage. The only thing that appeared to be wrong was the chain that had been thrown.
I placed the chain back on and gave another check of the bike, still in disbelief that I was going to be able to ride it.
AS I was doing this a man on a motorcycle that had been riding toward me (well away from me during the crash) came up and asked if I was okay. I mentioned that “I hope so.” and he left. As I was getting back on my bike finally the lady in the car poked her head out and asked if I was okay. Now, having the benefit of viewing my Training Peaks account and data, know she had been watching me for at least 3 minutes before saying anything to me. Honestly, I have to laugh about this. I think it was weird that she took so long to act.
As I mounted my bike my thoughts turned toward the rest of the day. I truly had no idea what was going to happen. I felt the shock of it all hadn’t allowed me to know the extent of what damages may have occurred to me or the bike, but I was going to do my best to move on.
Riding over the next 5 minutes was very sow going. I had been averaging over 22 mph, according to Garmin, and now I was seeing only a few mile per hour. I felt as if my day were ruined. I recall being mentally beaten, ready to quit, hurting, bleeding, having no idea why I would even want to continue.
It was during these few minutes that I recall thinking about the Pinky Swear Foundation and the children they represent. Kids with cancer had become my reason to race this year and I truly hoped I would have to do battle during the run and I hoped that mental battle would become a representation of their battles, ones for their very own lives. Little did I ever believe that I would have to begin that battle 87 miles into the 116 mile bike ride and try carry it through the full marathon later in the day. It was time to suck it up and really find our what my purpose of the day was. I had told many people my dreams were on the sidelines this year, and I guess I had to prove it to myself more than anyone else.
Suck it up it was…
After finally getting my head right and trying to test my legs out I was slowly building things back up. I was back close to the power targets I was looking to hit for the day and speeds were close again as well.
The next dilemma was my nutrition. I had gone into this race with the full laser tight focus of execution and now I was missing 300 calories from my plan. I watched that spill out on the ground as I looked up from my crash. THE top had broken off the bottle and the fluid was pouring out. I also hadn’t noticed my aero bottle had launched from it’s position and was missing after I had begun to ride again. Now I didn’t even have water for who knew how long. As it turned out I was about 6-8 miles from getting any more fuel or water.
I stopped at the next aid station to replenish and rinse the blood off, assess my injuries more closely and determine what may be wise to do. One of the volunteers at the aid station looked at me and asked if I needed medical attention. I told him I didn’t know. He said there was some at the end of the station. I decided, after looking after a rinse off, that I may be okay to continue. I was off. A bottle of gatorade endurance and a bottle of water.
The rest of the ride was a mix of pain and pleasure. The entire way I was trying to assess myself over and over. With from the normal racing dynamics and the injury assessments.
My power goals were slightly in jeopardy slightly as the temps began to climb, and adrenaline I suppose. HR was slowly climbing but RPE didn’t feel like it. I actually felt reasonably fresh for 12-15 miles despite seeing my HR begin to elevate somewhat quickly. As I rode through Chickamuaga again I could hear spectators talking about me as I rode past.
As I got 10-12 miles from T2 I could feel my right knee beginning to rebel. Any time I would try to put some power to the pedals the pain would increase. Any time I would really try to jack. The power up, which was only a couple of times, I would get shooting pains causing me to immediately back off. As I got nearer to the run course my mind began to work on me again. “What should I do when I got to T2?” Should I seek medical attention (reflecting on the more serious bike crash 4 years ago) or try to keep moving? With each mile my knee began to hurt a little more and I would wonder just how bad this run was going to be.
I am used to having to mentally battle because of my left knee and those 3 surgeries and now I had both knees to contend with?? Seriously?? The battle was far from over.
As I got closer and closer to transition I decided I was going to seek medical attention once I arrived and see how deep that avulsion was, then determine the next course of action.
I kept riding as planned, or as close as possible to planned, even to the point of taking my shoes off as I approached T2. Id di just that and came into transition. The bike catchers grabbed my bike and I ran in to grab my transition bag….

Duh!!!! Not hit a groundhog!!

After looking at the times and providing some estimations I would have had the third or fourth fastest AG bike split without the crash. Even so, coming off the bike with seventh fastest bike split out of 252 AG finisher is pretty flipping good. I guess I can be pretty happy about that.

With my knees hurting and bleeding I ran into the bag pick up area. Several of the volunteers noticed my injuries and asked if needed any assistance, pone of which called out for medical as I ran by. (I kind of find that funny since I was running by her when she yelled out.)
As I was running in, I saw Lis taking pictures, then dropping the camera and yelling ”You're in third place!!” That was not what I mentally wanted to hear. I had been committed to seeing medical and now it was another mental. battle. What was I now supposed to do. There was no way I felt I could have been so high in the placement after having laid on the ground for what seemed like an almost race ending amount of time. How in the world was I still in the top 25?
The decision really wasn’t all that hard after I thought about it fro a few more seconds. I was going to keep going.
I went into the change tent with my gear bag and got some help with my gear. One of the volunteers again noticed the blood running down my extremities and offered assistance. I declined. He insisted!! He poured water over my knees, to which I grimaced and groaned out loud. I really didn’t appreciate it at the time, but he really was looking out after me add I am now able to be thankful.
I decided to put my run socks on, grabbed my shoes, visor and belts and headed out.
I did actually sit there for what seemed like a minute or so to recompose myself, something I had planned to do anyway. After last year I felt this may help me set my run up better.
I left the change tent and headed toward the sunscreen applicators. I asked them to stay away from the open wounds. They slathered me with sunscreen, some of which ran into the wound on my left arm and, well, felt not so good…
…but I was off. The burn of that sunscreen was minor compared to what I had been feeling.
As I exited T2 I yelled at Lis to text Zach. “Let Zach know a groundhog took out my front!” Apparently she heard me but didn’t actually grasp what she’d heard...

Duh! Again, not hit a groundhog!!

Coming out on to the run course was a bit of a high. I still had the mindset to execute the run as best I could but my mind was in and out a little bit.. The laser focus was lost after the bike crash but I don’t think I realized it yet.
As I hit the run course I had a plan to develop this run into a fight. The first few miles were going to be done easy and save the battle for the second loop, especially the hills that would repeat themselves.
The way onto the run course led toward the river for a short time before heading uphill. The first mile had some climbing in it as I dropped down fro the transition and then climbed back up. The first hill kind of knocked the wind out of me once I was on it but I tried to make sure I didn’t burn any matches this early.
Once past mile one and I stopped at the aid station to grab some ice for the bag I was planning to use to keep cool throughout the run course. The plan was to fill it with ice occasionally throughout the run on an as needed basis. The temps were supposed to get up to 90 degrees and I didn’t want a repeat of last years race and misery. The stop was really brief, long enough to have 2 cups of ice dumped into the bag. I zipped it shut as I was running through the rest of the aid station, shoved it in my kit at the base of my neck and was gone.
The next mile was pretty quick. It was the fastest mile I would see for the day. This was also the mile that I really began to see where my HR was sitting, above target. I was still feeling good but running above the target already could spell trouble. I tried to slow down and get things under control but this is where things began to get a little bit hard, mentally.
I had passed one of my competitors late on the bike, after the crash and he had now passed me late in mile 2 of the run. I wanted to keep him in sight even if it was a ta distance as we progressed through the run. He was my 3rd place marker so to speak. He wasn’t passing me particularly quickly but being so early in the run I knew things could get out of control.
My HR was in the low 150’s, about 4-6 BPM above the goal for the overall marathon. I tried again over the course of the next mile to get things under control but, again, I was unsuccessful. This was beginning to prove to be a problem and I knew it but I seemed unable to control this. My mind was drifting back and forth between the pace I was running, the place I’d been in coming off the bike and watching my competitor pull away from me. The strategy on the bike to let riders pull away and reel them back in later on the bike didn’t occur to me while running. Maybe the pain in my body from the crash was already becoming more of a problem than I thought. I didn’t know at the time.
Sometime over the course of the way out for this part of the run an athlete I had been slowly running past commented that the cloud cover at the time felt pretty good. Our discussion was brief and I mentioned that I had been in Chattanooga last year and the heat that day brought was much worse. He recalled how hot it had been although he didn’t race in 2016.
Generally, for the way out on the run course, before turning and heading back toward the river crossing, I didn’t feel the effects from my injuries much. Occasionally I felt some pain in my left knee from the pounding on the road surface but this was somewhat the norm. Most of the pain was in the general area of my previous surgeries and I knew I would fight that later in the run. This was coming a little bit sooner but I didn’t feel a lot of concern just yet.
As I turned back toward the west and headed to what I knew would be the hills I enjoyed some of the shaded part do the course. There was little bit of a breeze and the clouds were still hanging over a little bit.
Mile 6 was where the road was going to begin pitching a little more. Nothing harsh yet but it did begin to present some challenges. But it wasn’t until mile 8 that a steep short climb came. This hill definitely knocks the wind out of you. I was slowed quite a bit during the run uphill. It was also where my right knee began to feel some harsh pain as a result of the crash. The avulsion in my knee seemed to have been causing some swelling to increase and make my patella track differently. I was able to contain everything at this point but I was nervous.
This is also where the Base Salt tent is located and where I ran into Kim. She saw me coming and was yelling at me and taking pictures with her phone. I have to say, as the pain was becoming more apparent that it was nice to have a distraction. As Kim was taking pictures I raised my arms to show her my elbows. Initially she didn’t notice but when she did there were a few curse words that came out. I explained what happened briefly and she asked if I needed anything. At the time I was all good and told her I was good for now and kept moving.
Nearing mile 8 I knew I’d be seeing Lis and her mom and sister (although I never did see them). Lis came into view a fair distance away and I began commenting to another runner to smile his picture was being taken. He had no clue what I was saying. I later found out that he was from another country, apparently a non English speaking country. I laughed it off at the time.
As I got closer to Lis I asked her if she had texted my coach (Zach) about the crash and I initially got no response. She had been focused on taking some video of me and was pretty focused herself. A second time, and quite sternly at that, I asked if she had texted Zach, to which I got a stern contort back, “YES!” I didn’t think much of it at the time but it probably sounded bad and I wish I hadn’t treated her so unkindly.
From here it was crossing the river and heading north, to the hills that would haunt me. As noted during the bike segment of the commentary, knowing the course can have it’s pros and cons, and the run course seemed to be a con. I had broken the course down into 4 segments; the first 8 miles that were mostly flat and the next 2.5 miles that were going to be hard climbing, then basically repeating for a second time.
Heading up the hill at the beginning of mile 9 felt as decent as going up a hill that was almost a quarter mile in length. The last .15 of this mile had an average gradient of 10.3% (per Garmin) and it became torturous as I neared the top of the overall climb, which took me a little bit into mile 10.
Mile 10 had more of an elevation drop so It was another faster mile and I would have been able to get some recovery in my legs if it wasn’t for all the steepness of the descent. This took a toll on my quads and my left knee as it slammed bone into bone during this downhill. Even with the struggles with pain it felt pretty good to get that first hill past me and focus on the next.
The next climb was shorter in overall length but the gradient didn’t get better, at all. Again Garmin put this climb at 10.8% average so it got painful again. Then after that one was over another downhill with an immediate upturn for the next hill.
These successions of his were taking a toll on both knees already. All of the knife work to my left is leaving me wondering how many more times I can do this, while the right knee was taking the brunt of the pain as fluid began to collect following the crash.
By now the cloud cover had gone and the heat was beginning to work on me. I had heard the temps were near 90 degrees at this point so I was really trying to take a lot of water over my head and grabbing ice again. I stopped somewhere around mile 11 or 12 to refill the bag of ice I had been keeping in the neck of my jersey. This had been helping keep me cooler but it wasn’t helping my time. As much as this was bothering me to be losing time it felt like the right thing to do. My knees were becoming an issue and I felt they could use the break.
AS I ran toward mile 13 and the turn point for the second loop the Walnut street bridge loomed in the distance. It’s a beautiful bridge overlooking the river. Aha seen it as I walked it this year and last but I would be unable to enjoy it during the race. The uphill was causing my right knee to wail some as blood continued to run down into my run sock. THE pain was begin to shoot somewhat intensely occasionally but I was never able to determine what actually was the cause or pinpoint a location.
At the turn I became excited. I was somewhat mentally ready for the second half of the run even with some of the pain. Little did I know the pain that was coming as I made my way back up Riverside Drive. The slightly rolling nature of this couple of miles was becoming harsh on my knee. The breaks at the aid stations helped me get some relief from the noggin pain I was dealing with much of the time.
I saw Lis at just before the mile 14 (mile 2) aid station and she asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine but it was only a partial truth. Last year I was hurting very badly at this point but that was due to the intense heat. This year was easier because I didn’t feel like I was in complete misery. It was only my knees that were causing me discomfort. Cardiovascularly I felt fine. I didn’t even feel any intense respiratory stress like I had felt last year. It was all knee pain.
The next several miles went by somewhat quickly but I was fading quickly. I am really thankful that these miles were flat. This probably allowed me to get some sort of recovery in my legs that was preparing me for the second round of hills that were coming.
The rRiverwalk train had become a bit of a reprise from the sun during this second loop with some of it’s shade. The shade helped keep things a little cooler but it also blocked the little bit of a breeze that we had. It also had small hills that I was beginning to curse. By mile 18 or 19 the struggle was beginning to get pretty real. The pain in my knee was becoming a dull, constant ache. The pain wasn’t intense but it was nagging pretty badly.
When I saw Lis at mile 20 I was walking into the aid station and tiny to get some ice again, which if I recall correctly, was out. This aid station also marks the turn back toward the hills.
By now I was willing myself to keep running. Th kids from Pinky Swear Foundation were becoming the face of what would get me through the race. I looked at the constantly fading names that had been written on my left forearm many times over the last few miles. I thought of Chloe, a friend of a friend’s daughter who had lost her battle with cancer. I thought of Ben and Paige and how their fight doesn’t get to take breaks from treatment and needle pricks and blood work and trips to this doctor and that specialist. Their faces reverberated throughout much of the rest of the race. It was those faces and names I tried to focus on. The battle was on!
Across the Veterans Bridge the hills awaited me. I trudged up them as far as I was able, the pain was now shooting into my right knee cap as I climbed this first hill. As I neared the steepest part of the grade it had become unbearable and I began to walk. At first it was slow. I wanted a reason to quit and sit on the curb for a few minutes but I couldn’t do it. I decided I wasn’t going to give up and tried to pick up the pace of my walk a little bit. If I was going to walk I wasn’t going to make it easy on myself, I guess. AS the pitch of the road began to slightly become easier near the top of the hill I began to jog again. It hurt pretty badly again but I hoped it would get easier as tings leveled out, allowing my patella to float a little better into a more natural position. IT seemed to work and I was running again and then on the downhill, which I could run just fine.
But I knew the pitch of the road was going to turn upward again, and it did. And again, I walked. I was able to run or jog up much of the hills but the pace was so far off that I can barely call it a run, and maybe even a jog, but I was trying to keep the pain high but within tolerable ranges.
This became how I would finish the race, dealing with pain. Uphills sucked!!! Downhills helped me make up some of the time. It was a time of misery for me.
Not running was as much part of my pain as the physical pain that I was having to deal with. I have always prided myself on being able to withstand pain but today seemed like I had become something I don’t want to admit I had become, a quitter. I felt like I was quitting on those kids who have to battle, in desperate pain, everyday, never really knowing what was coming next.
The miles were closing slowly it seemed but I tried to remain focused on the finish line. Some of the posts I have seen in recent months had been trying to point out to first time Ironman athletes to take the day in it’s entirety as a blip in time, a vapor in the wind. I was trying to take this to heart so I wouldn’t forget this time, and the kids I was trying to represent.
I was finally on the final real downhill and headed toward Walnut Street bridge again and the last couple of miles. The pain in my knees was ever growing! Now I was feeling it on the downhills but it had switched sides to my left knee. The pounding of the pavement under my feet had now become my nemesis, as it always does. I knew there would be a lot of suffering following the race as I would be limping for a while trying to get the fluid off my knee with Nsaids for a week. But wasn’t stopping now!
At the foot of the bridge on the south side if the river the turn toward the finish seemed like it took forever to come into view. But oh when it did!!! The volunteer calling out the second loop was to turn right and the finish to the left. I literally can still hear this guy! He called it out. And I, with great confidence, raised my arms and defiantly pointed to the left, the finishing line, then I was headed home. And with my motions the crowd must have heard and seen the actions because they went freaking nuts when I threw my arms up and pointed toward the finish. Screaming and yelling ensued! People began clapping and whistling. It was exhilarating!!! It was what I needed to get to the finish line quickly.
I was now properly preparing for the finish line. I dropped the towel I had been wearing around my neck and zipped my jersey up correctly. Hard to believe I was thinking of these things to be honest. I guess I was hoping my homely face may have looked a little better coming into the finish.
AS I was coming down the chute all I could think about was Lisa. She truly was my only thought. She deals with everything that Ironman training throws at her. The time commitment. The pain of having to plan around every workout. The pain I live with virtually everyday as I limp around or take Nsaids to help get rid of the fluid on my knee. She’s there, through it all. I could never begin to cope with this sport without her involvement. She inspires me to never give up on my dream.
Once I found her, I called to her to get to the finish line. Was hoping she could make it before I was being ushered out of the chute too far. I wanted her at the finish line for something I had been planning for several weeks. I had been worried ever since I had come up with the idea that I may become to fatigued to remember once I finished. For the two previous Ironman events I had finished, I had landed in medical and both of which I had neither the ability nor the mental capacity to remember much of anything when I finished. I was really hoping to be able to finish with enough whits about me to recognize Lis.
I continued down the chute for what only could have been 50 yards or so. Once I crossed the line I immediately began to try to catch my breath and look for Lis. The catchers swarmed me right away as I leaned over placing my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. I was still looking for Lis to show up next to me as the volunteers were attempting to move me from the finish area toward the medals and exiting the finishing area.
…But I was having no part of it!
Lis has given as much to this sport as I have and she doesn’t participate directly. Her participation has been supporting me and the dreams I have been living with for 4 years of Ironman races. She has put up with workouts night, almost never seeing me after she gets home from work in the evening, ridiculously long workouts on the weekends and bouts of anger from me as I continue to fight the battles of trying to keep my knee capable to remain in this sport.
I wanted one of the volunteers to hang my medal around her neck. SHe’s the one that deserves the reward for crossing her own finish line. Truth be told, she’s the one that does the worst part of the work. She’s the one that has patched me up after bike crashes, gotten ice for my knees, made endless trips to get Nsaids for me. She’s done so much more, so much that no one could ever have seen. She’s the one that keeps me racing. This was her finishers medal.
The handoff of the medal didn’t go over smoothly at all. When I asked the volunteer to hang it around her neck , I was simply starred at. She had no idea what I was wanting to have done or she was puzzled at my request. In the end I had to hang the medal around her neck myself.
As I looked in her eyes, I told her this one wasn’t mine, it was hers. I couldn’t do it without her. I got choked up and she could see it and hear it in my voice. Her eyes told me of her appreciation as she too was tearing up. Have never been so proud to have her with me.
She is so much of my inspiration to compete.

Duh! Not crash my bike!
TRUthfully I seem to have given in too much to the pain and allowed myself to drop my effort. It is something I seem to give in to more than I used to. If I am ever going to get to the next level I have to do 2 things.
1.) Get more serious during the race and execute well. I had done well during most of the bike and then failed during the run.
2.) Fight through the pain more. Stop finding excuses to stop for more water or ice or....
I need to suck it up!!

Well I definitely outdid myself this year. After the finish and the time with Lis hanging the medal around her neck I knew I needed to head to medical. WOW!! What a surprise for me!! Heck! I have only been to medical in 3 of 4 Ironman events, 4 of 7 70.3 races. I mean, who'd have ever seen that coming??
In all seriousness this one wasn't as bad as 2015 Louisville by a long shot or even last year here in Chatty. But I had wounds to have cleaned and looked at. I still had no idea if the worst wound in my right knee was going to require further medical attention at a hospital. There was still blood running down my knee and had been for 6 hours or more.
The cleaning was brutal! They used hydrogen peroxide to pour oven all of them and it was, well, unpleasant. it took some time for them to clean cup and place some dressings on me.
I was also dealing with dehydration and a bit of cramping all over my body. I had been able to fight most of it off. The two gals that were tending to me were able to keep me drinking fluids and taking salt, but I was miserable. My knees, especially my right knee was agonizing! I was unable to sit still, tor at least I really didn't want to, but I also wasn't wanting to move much. This is common for me following long course racing. My body is in bad enough shape that all of my muscles are in rebellion and want to stop but are in a state of unwillingness.
I suppose by the time I felt able to walk (very, very slowly) it had been 30 -45 minutes.
I was helped out of medical by the two gals that had been assisting me. WE walked over and I got on the ground and lied down where I could prop my feet up to help get some of the fluid off my legs. This made me dizzy if I tried to sit up.
within a few minutes my entire body, head to toe, was tingling. it was almost as if my body was "going to sleep." That feeling you get when circulation is cut off to a particular part of your body and then it begins to come back. that what I was dealing with all over. Everywhere!
One of the other medical staff had come out to check on me several times and she suggested I go back in to medical and get some IV fluids. This was not a popular idea to me. I really don't have a logical reasoning for not getting fluids post race. I suppose it's a certain amount of machismo that makes me feel like I am not supposed to do that. There is however a more practical reason. I really don't want others to have to be run off without getting the supplies they need. I would rather recover on my own that feel like someone else that is more in need than me get them.

..So, for the first time ever, I re-entered medical and got a second dose of medical treatment. I was however able to keep from getting IV fluids by drinking a couple of cups of chicken broth, which was mighty tasty I might say.

After another 20 minutes or so my two personal medical staff members took me back to the tent and provided some stretching to help me recover. This felt super, super good. Had they not done it I wouldn't have been able to. It was amazing!
After it was all done I suppose I was in medical the second time for another 30-45 minutes.
Let's hope the next time I do Ironman I won't end up in medical. But I have said that for 3 years and haven't been able to pull it off just yet.


Crashing my bike and mentally giving up. I really need to develop some mental strength to fight through the pain better.


This was the second year at Chattanooga and I was glad to have gone back. I doubt I'll be back since I have done it twice but it really is an incredible venue. The beauty on the course is stunning. God surely knew what He was doing when he placed his hand on Chatty.