Ironman Wisconsin - TriathlonFull Ironman

The swim went as I expected. I started toward the back so as to avoid the blender at the outset. I quickly started passing people in the back though, and that put me in the blender anyway. It was fine. I stayed relaxed and calm throughout the swim, and my time was almost exactly what I would have predicted based on my training swims.

On the west end of the course, the water seemed to get a little choppy, and I had a few mouths full of water. Also, there was one guy who grabbed my ass so many time I thought he was trying to pick me up. Other than being groped, I was happy with the swim.

Start further up, and get in the blender sooner. I think I sacrificed some time for piece of mind.

I got out of the water, and ran to the strippers. What a bonus these guys are. I'm was on my ass and out of my wetsuit in 2 seconds flat. I ran up the helix to the transition, and my family was waiting for me half way up. My kids were screaming like lunatics, so I high fived them and screamed right along. It was awesome.

I ran to get my transition bag. I took my time to dry and change. (Little did I know how useless drying would be) I had bought a water resistant wind breaker at a local Dick's sporting goods the day before because of possible rain. (Thank God I did!) I put it on over my trisuit and went on my way

I got out and found my bike. The Iron bike was upon me.

Not much - maybe go a little faster, but I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed.

I know that the bike is my weakest link, and I worked hard to improve it this year. Nothing could have prepared me for the 7 1/2 hours that lay ahead though. Ultimately my time was not good, but I got it done. I will never know how much of this ride was me and how much was the weather, but on some level Ironman is always about surviving. I survived.

Loop 1: The plan was to take it easy on this loop, keep my heartrate down, and remember that I have a long day ahead. I did that, and for a brief time felt like I was almost enjoying myself. I was holding steady, and felt like I had alot left for the second loop. As the ride went on, the weather got worse though. The raim got heavier, the wind blew harder. Descents on the wet roads were scaring the crap out of me. Still, I was sticking to my game plan. I was drinking enough and taking in plenty of calories. I was uncomfortable, but not miserable.

One note on this loop. The crowds on the climbs were fantastic. The number of people, and the way they crowded the road really made it feel like the Tour. I can't tell you how much these folks lifted my spirits. At the top of one hill this guy started running next to my bike and yelling: "you own this hill - kick its ass." Despite my better judgment, I got out of the saddle, let out a war cry and climbed. I know it was wasted energy, but I don't regret a second of it.

Second Loop: Now the suffering begins. The weather got MUCH worse. By mile 70 I was soaked, freezing and miserable. The descents scared me even more than on the first loop. It seemed like all the flat sections on the course were in to a screming head wind or brutal cross wind. (At one point I was hammering in to the wind, only to look down and see I was doing 11 mph. Demoralizing.)The hills started to look like the Rockies. I hit mile 80 and realized that I had to pedal through 32 miles of this crap and then run a marathon. The idea of quiting became a constant companion.

Somebody on this site has a signature line that reads: "Pain is temporary - failure lasts forever." I started repeating that to myself out loud, and kept doing it for the rest of the bike. I'm sure the other people on the course thought I was nuts, but any port in a storm baby! It worked well enough to get me through the bike.

Figure out how to become a better cyclist.

Not race in crap conditions.

NEVER have I been so happy to get off my bike. As I pulled in to T2 my family was standing there screaming. It really helped. I knew I had made the bike cut off (my big concern), and once I got off the bike I felt surprisingly ok. (Based on how I felt on the bike I expected to feel like death.)

I got my transition bag and went in to change. The changing room looked like a red cross tent. Guys were wrapped in blankets and shivering uncontrollably while they decided whether to go on. I actually thought to myself: "well at least you don't feel like they look."

I changed in to my dry running clothes, sat and drank some warm water for a few minutes, shook out my windbreaker, put it on, ate some fruit and walked out to face the marathon.

Nothing - I took a long time, but I needed some warmth.

My wife was there when I got on to the run course. She screamed: "I love you Bill." I screamed my love back. Some guy standing by her then screamed: "I love you too Bill," which was a perfect start for this marathon because it was all about the spectator love. The volunteers and spectators were amazing. They cheered, clapped and cajoled me through this race. Every "looking good," cup of broth, handful of pretzles or cup of coke pushed me another step along the way. They were amazing.

First Loop: I felt surprisingly good at the start of the run. I ran (run being a relative term after that ride) for about 5 miles, stopping only at aid stations. I felt great. Then very suddenly something happened. Everything started to hurt. My knees, my shins, my lower back and my neck. My right forearm, an area of my body I was barely using at this point, started cramping up in a terribly painful way. I realized that walking was going to be prominently featured in my marathon. I walked as needed on the first loop, and "ran" the rest. As the rain continued to pelt me I began to feel miserable again. The windy stretch by the lake was particularly bad. It became an exercise in putting one foot in front of the other, but I finished the first loop.

Second Loop: As I made that unbearble turn at the finish line to begin my second loop I looked at my watch, did some math, and realized that I might pull this off. That gave me a burst of energy, and I started my second loop much like the first - with a few miles of "running." It didn't take long for the pain to return though, and I started lying to myself to get through the race.

First I told myself that all the wonderful people cheering me on didn't think I could finish. That they were only there to see me fail. I had to finish just to prove them wrong. (I'm sure I need intense therepy to figure out why crap like this motivates me.)

Then, with about 9 miles to go I started to tell myslef that this was like any run after a long day of work. ("You run 9 miles at night all the time - no big deal.") I then started visualizing my run course at home, and for some reason it helped. There was still plenty of walking up hills and through aid stations, but I started to feel better.

Random stuff from the marathon:

- At some point (I lost track of the mile marker) a volunteer handed me a glow stick. I responded with: "I've been waiting for one of these all day." For some reason she thoughts that was really funny.

- At mile 22 a female cop who had been standing in the rain for hours, and was obvioulsy delusional, told me to "bring it home" because I have "great legs."

The Finish: I can't describe how great it felt to round the corner toward the finish. I started screaming again, and the crowd reacted by cheering me on. My wife, oldest daughter and parents were waiting for me. My 11 year old stood in the pouring rain for 15 hours and change just to cross the finish line with me. She steadfastly refused to go back to the hotel. How lucky am I?

There were hugs all around. Holding my daughters hand, and yelling at the top of my lungs, I became an Ironman.

Nothing - I gave everything I had under the conditions. Next time I would like to run more and walk less, but this time this was just fine.

Went inside to warm up!


The conditions (life leading up to the race and weather on race day) interferred with my first Ironman in a big way. Still I was very happy with this race. I feel like I really accomplished something by toughing it out.

No Ironman next year (too much "life") but definitely in 08. I just need to decide which one.