If you’ve never seen the start of an Ironman race, here’s what happens. 1800 athletes transition themselves from treading water to swimming forward and turn the water into a den of piranhas. As the swim is my weakest leg, I put myself roughly in the middle of the pack and way off to the right. The cannon goes off and after a split-second of panic, I hit the start button on my watch and started racing! I have heard some horror stories about the Ironman start, and I was expecting the worse, bodies climbing all over each other; being held underwater or kicked in the teeth, but this start was not a lot worse than other triathlon starts for me. Maybe that was because I stayed to the right, near the shoreline, and let the pack swim to the left, near the buoys. I had eyeballed the buoys earlier in the week and determined that the straightest line from the start was along the shoreline for the first half of the way out and that is what I did. I started counting strokes in sets of 100, so you know that I had a lot of free space. After what I figured was halfway to the turn, I started looking left, and noticed that most of the rest of the swimmers were a good ways away, so I started to make my way back to the group. At the turn, I caught a cramp in my right calf, and I was so focused on ridding myself of that that I did not notice that I swam about 40 meters off course, which added maybe a minute to my swim. Great. Going back, I tried to stay in the pack, and did 90% of my navigation by watching the other swimmers around me. Also, the wind – more on that later – which was with the swimmers on the way out, was against the swimmers on the way back. This made the return trip a little more difficult. On the way back, I knew that the buoy line was the most direct route, so I stationed myself in the middle of the pack and relied on the other swimmers around me to find my way. I was especially interested in pacing any female swimmers next to me, because I thought that they would be better swimmers than the males that were swimming my pace. Now, since I was in the pack the whole way back, there was a little more bumping and knocking. The good news was that I found myself climbing up on others way more than I felt people climbing up on me. That told me that I was gaining on the field. I fought through a couple more leg cramps, took a couple of breaststrokes to pick the underpass that I wanted under the Mill Avenue Bridges, then went for the turn buoy. I took a wide turn and headed for the stairs at the end of the swim. My time for the swim was 1:13, which was right in line with my goal of 1:10.

First thing, as I was climbing the stairs, I found myself to be a little dizzy, and that my legs weren’t working perfectly. I guess that happens when you’ve been horizontal for an hour plus, and all the blood is flowing to the muscles in your arms. Next on the list was to take off my wetsuit top (I have a two-piece wetsuit) and lay down to let a volunteer strip the bottom of my suit off. SNAP! He does it, hands it back to me and I am on my way to the port-a-john again. Forgot to lock the door and someone tried to barge in on me, but they quickly discovered their error. I got my T1 bag, and went into the very crowded tent to find a chair. Only then did I realize that I forgot to bring a towel. Darnit, I guess we’re going to do the bike with a little bit of grass on our feet. On the way out, I get the sunscreen kids to spray me up, but it turns out that they missed my back so I got sunburned back there. I go running through the bikes and they shout my number but the volunteer manning my bike row didn’t catch it in time, so I had to get my bike myself. My total time in transition was a shade under 9 minutes, and off I went on the bike.

Onto the bike and away we go. I spot my sweet wife on the way out, and she is screaming her ever-loving head off. Sweet. The first mile out of transition is against the wind and uphill, so I am just concentrating on spinning (which means a high “pedal speed”, not necessarily a high bike speed) and easing into the next six hours or so of the race. My focus for the bike was to make the entire ride feel easy. The speed was going to be whatever it was going to be, but I wanted to be ready to run when I got finished. I had hopes of averaging better than 20, but I knew that was not going to happen with the wind, which made it’s way up to 25 MPH during the ride. Ouch. OK, the first order of business is just to settle in, check how your body feels, and get started on nutrition. The bike is where you take in the majority of your calories for the race, and my plan was to eat a banana at 15 minutes, then a Gu pack every 15 minutes for 6 15-minute periods, then nothing for the next 15 minutes, then start the cycle over again. Each time I ate something, I also took in some Gatorade Endurance and some water. I essentially stuck to that plan the entire ride.

Here were some interesting notes from the ride. The route was three “laps”, of which about 8 miles was through Tempe, with a ton of turns, and the next 27 miles was an out-and-back, with minimal turns, do it again three times, then add a little bit more through the city and you’re done. The wind was out of the west, and the out portion of the bike was with the wind. Woo-hoo, I’m trucking along at 25, 26 MPH but knowing that I am going to have to pay for it later. Yup, I hit the turnaround, and my speed was knocked down to 16 or so. I have to repeatedly remind myself that that’s OK, because of the speed that I have “in the bank” from the downwind segment. Just make it back, keep it easy and the time will work itself out. I had a goal of 6 hours for the bike, and the first 28 miles were in 1:23, so I have seven minutes in the bank. I stopped to pee at mile 34. This may shock you, but many Ironman triathletes do not stop to pee, they just go right on the bike as they are coasting down a hill. I tried this. I really did, but I could not do it, so I had to stop.

Coming back past the transition area was very cool with all the people out there watching and hooting and hollering. The first time I went past, I noticed a quiet section, so I yelled out, “Aren’t you supposed to be cheering?”, and the crowd picked it up. At mile 45 or so, I went past a female racer. Now, we got two race numbers, one with your first name (for the run) and one with your last name (for the bike). Her name was Thompson-Something. I say “Something”, because she had crossed out the second name. I asked her as I went past, “Get a divorce recently?” She just said, “You like that, huh?” Funny.

I make it to the second out and back turnaround, noticing a ton of people pulled over on the side of the road changing flats all throughout the race course. I had a ton of flats in training, so I was just waiting for my turn, but luckily, it never came. It was a rough road in places, so improperly inflated tires were going to be a huge invitation to flat. Now, both turnarounds (we did one four times and the other three) were at the bottom of hills. No fair. This turn was right about 56 miles, and I clicked it off at 1:24, so I have 13 minutes in the bank. As I am heading back this time at mile 62 of the ride, which was going rather well, I look at my watch again and start trying to project finishing times. This lasted about 30 seconds until I said aloud: “Do not. Get ahead. Of yourself.” There was a lot of racing yet to do, and you have to focus on the task at hand.

I stop to pee at the same bush at mile 69. On the last out and back another rider and I went for the same banana at an aid station, so he got it, and I came away empty. Rats. I began to realize that my bike computer was off, so I started to prepare myself to ride 113 miles. I hit the lap button again at 84.5 and it was 1:34. Only nine minutes left in the bank. The last time I was heading out with the wind dead at my back I was cruising along at 28 MPH. The wind was clearly picking up, and I knew that I would have to pay for this speed later. The only good thing was that the last three miles or so, which had been with the wind the first two times, was now against a cross wind, so we would have that wind on the way back. I figured that I would have to pee again on the bike, and once in transition, so I split the difference between 69 and the end and stopped at mile 92. Next was the long stretch against the wind, and here was where I may have began to not take it so easy, but there was not much of the bike left, so I felt like it was warranted.

The last thing that happened on the bike was that as I was coasting down the hill to return to the transition area, I shifted from the big chainring to the little, and my chain came off. I had enough speed to coast to about 200 yards from the “dismount line”. Drat. Oh yeah, I never saw my wife after the start of the bike. She says she saw me, but I just never spotted her. There were just so many people there watching and cheering. Final tally on the bike was 5:54, and an average speed of 19 MPH. I met my goal of under 6 hours. However, I need to get my bike computer re-calibrated, because it said 113 miles, and I can’t have my tools lying to me.

As I said above, I had to walk the last 200 yards of the bike course. A volunteer grabbed my bike, and I was off the get my T2 bag and head back to the tent. As I sat down to change, I heard, “Phil!” from across the way and saw Chris Devore. I had only seen one of the guys that I thought I would pass on the bike, and here I was catching up to the second. It turns out that I swam faster than two others, and that I just plain missed my brother-in-law. I gave Chris the thumbs-up, got all my running gear on, and stopped for another layer of sunscreen. Note that I did not have to pee in transition. My time for T2 was about 4 minutes.

I came out of T2 7:20 into the race. Never mind the lunacy of running a marathon after a seven-and-a-half hour marathon; I began to formulate a goal for the run. Now, in my wildest dreams I had hoped to be able to finish under 11. That was out the door now, as I would have had to run 3:40, which is about 8:20 pace, and that was unreasonable. So my goal became a four hour marathon, which would put me under 11.5 hours for the race. It seemed doable at first. The first mile, which was against the wind and uphill (on the same street as the bike course) and I did it in 8:29. OK, a four hour marathon is 9 minute pace, and I have 30 seconds in the bank. The second mile was good as well – 8:32. I had begun to employ my strategy of walking every aid station. At first, I drank either a cup of water or a cup of Gatorade at each station. The plan was to take a Gu or a banana every 30 minutes, but the eating portion of the plan only lasted for about 90 minutes. My gut was full, and it was not going to process anymore food, so I stopped eating and stepped up the drinking.

I’m getting ahead of myself again. The third mile, which went past the transition area and the screaming throngs there was fast – 8:20. I am thinking that I can make the 9 minute pace. Maybe I am beginning to hit my stride! Well, the fourth mile featured some up-hills and started against the wind, and my time was down to 9:12. I hadn’t given up the dream, but it wasn’t looking great. Mile 5 (9:24) was all into the wind, and at this point I can begin to tell that my eating for the day may be through. I was OK with that, though, because I felt that I had taken in plenty of calories on the bike and that I would not run out of carbs. However, my bank account was getting low. I stopped in the middle of mile 6 to pee, just because it had been so long and I felt like I should go. Even with the one minute that was lost there, I ran mile 6 in 9:37, but it was down wind. Now the fun begins. Mile 7 was uphill and against the wind. The dream was gone as that mile was 10:16. The bank account was overdrawn, and payday was a long ways away. About that time, when I had given up on eating, I started taking a cup of water and a cup of Gatorade at each aid station in attempt to stay hydrated. I made it to mile 10 in three more roughly 10 minute miles, picked up a little speed on mile 11 because there was no aid station to walk in that mile and put in 9:38. Mile 12 and 13 take you back to the transition area and into the devastating wind. Along there, Kate Major, the women’s winner, passed me. She was, of course, on the second lap of the marathon while I was on the first. There was a motorcycle with a camera, so I tried my best to look good and strong while she was running past me. I made it to mile 13 with two 11-minute miles. That wind was really starting to hurt.

I spotted my sweet wife as I went past and got her to walk with me for a few seconds. She told me that I was doing awesome, which was very nice to hear at that point. She was so excited to see me, and I could tell that she was positively infected by the event. I’m not sure how anyone could watch an Ironman and not be deeply moved. She asked me how I felt, and I think I said that I was pretty tired. I know I said “Look, this is hard!” But I really didn’t want to talk about me. I asked her, “Whatcha been doing all day? What’d you have for lunch?” By that time, she had walked enough and it was time for me to run again. I did the first 13 miles in 1:57:24 – 9:02 pace. But I had been running 11 minute miles. I figured that if I ran the last 13.2 in 11 minute pace, that I would finish around 6:45 PM, so I meant to tell Danielle to wait for me at the finish line then, but I did not see her on the way back by.

So now my goal was to finish in 11:45. I did the first two miles of the second half in 10:32 and 10:22 – over a minute in the new bank. But it got more difficult again. Mile 16 was still with the wind and so was a little bit of mile 17. However, those two miles together were 22:31. (I missed the Mile 16 marker. I must have been busy reading the signs that were made for the various racers along the return.) Uh-oh. I am starting to draw out of the bank again. Near the end of mile 18, I stopped to pee again. Not because I had too, but because it had been nearly two hours since I had last gone, and I should have gone. I did not pee very much at all, and it was pretty dark, which was not a good sign. I was dehydrated. Maybe not severely, but enough to effect my performance. I now switched to drinking 2 cups of water and one of Gatorade at each aid station. At this point, maybe I should have tried the chicken broth, but since I had not had any in training I bypassed it. Some of my friends that finished claimed that it was like a wonder drug, so I am going to work it in the next time. Mile 18 was 12:49. Crap, 11:45 is out the window, maybe I can still finish below 12 hours.

I guess I tried to pick up the pace a little for mile 19, because it was in 10:43, but the only thing that I can remember from that part of the race was doing the Heisman Pose for the photographer with my last cup of water from that aid station. Unfortunately, he had already taken my picture, and all I got was me walking with a green cup. How utterly uneventful. During mile 20, we were to run up a huge hill. It was two sharp inclines, followed by another less steep incline, all with corresponding down-hills. Going up the first hill, I spotted my friends, the two Daves, on their first lap of the marathon. I had decided long ago to walk up these hills the second time around. I passed the 20 mile mark while walking with them and it was 13 minutes flat. Was I finished? Could I make it under 12 hours? What was going to happen to me on the last 10-K of the run?

I told the two Daves so long, because I still had to run. At that point, I looked down at my watch and saw 10:50. In order to finish under 12 hours, I had to run a 10-K in 1:10. How easy would that be? An hour and ten? No problem! I did the math: 6 miles at 11 minute pace (which I hadn’t run for several miles) is 66 minutes, and add another 3 or so for the last 0.2, and I came up with 69 minutes. Hoo-boy, that’s cutting it close. Decision time.

It was at this point that I decided to finish the race. I am not sure where I found the energy, or the drive. I told myself that I have done a hundred or more runs of 6 miles on dead legs, and let’s do it again. I put my feet down one at a time just a little bit faster than before. Mile 21 was the last mile into the wind, and it was 11:00. Now we’re talking. I made the turn to come back home, and picked it up some more. Mile 22 was 10:00! That’s a whole minute faster! Where are these times coming from? It was running on guts and will, and that is what the finish of an Ironman is all about. Mile 23 was even faster – 9:27. When I saw that split, I let out a guttural yell. “YES! Come on, let’s DO IT!” I had to remind myself again not to get ahead of myself, but now I had momentum. A friend saw me Sunday morning and said that I passed him about mile 23, and he wanted to say something to me, but I was running so fast by him that I was gone before he could get any words out. It would not have mattered, because I was not going to hear anything at that point. I was running, and that was all.

Here is the thing I am most proud of. Mile 24 had no aid station. There was one just before the end of 23, and just after the end of 24. I ran Mile 24 in 8:10. My fastest mile of the day was the 24th mile that I ran. That was awesome! At this point, I knew I was going to finish near 11:45. I had made it back. Mile 25 had a couple of walked uphills (I may have been in a zone, but I was still pretty freaking tired) and two aid stations, so it was 10:44, but I knew I was still running fast. I ran the last 1.2 in 8:57 pace – 10:44. I tell you, the last three miles, my cheeks were beginning to cramp from grimacing to run harder, harder, harder, and alternately from smiling, because I knew I was going to finish and beat my goal time by a healthy margin. I have to mention my favorite sign from the row of signs. It said simply, “Suck it up, Buttercup.” So suck it up is what I did. Coming back to the Mill Avenue bridge, where it all started, you could hear the finish line crowd. You run up a hill to street level and past the back side of the finish line. I did not look to the right, because I was still focused. I did hear someone say, “Tiger Phil!” That’s my name on a few triathlon message boards, so that was fun to hear. It’s about a quarter mile of not too many people but the widest grin you’ll ever see plastered on my face to get back to the finish line. Chris’ wife told me as I went past where to look for Danielle in the crowd. I gave everyone, including her, a high five as I went by and raised my arms as I crossed the finish line – an IRONMAN. I did the run in 4:26, and the Ironman in 11:46:39.

They have volunteers whose responsibility it is to catch people as they finish so they don’t collapse. That’s a brilliant idea, worthy of a Guinness. My guy was a rock – 230 lbs, 5’ 10”. He held me as I received a space blanket, (How does that flimsy sheet of shiny stuff keep you warm?) a finisher’s t-shirt (Extra Large, please) and a gray finishers wristband (think LiveStrong). Over to the finishers photo and I made the best smile I could muster – which was not very hard. I told him I was okay, and the emotions started to wash over me. What an amazing day. How could I possibly do that? How did I run like that to the finish? If you look at my split for the second half of the run, it was 11 minute miles, but that does not come close to telling the story.

I was able to see all my friends, except Tom (sorry) finish. Then, I got my post-race massage and was still feeling cold, weak, and not hungry at all. I went to visit the awesome volunteers in the medical tent, and they gave my a liter of IV fluids and I finally began to feel human again. I ate some Doritos and M&M’s and drank a cola. How’s that for a recovery meal?

Danielle and I went and got my bike and my bags and walked those back to the hotel, then came back to the finish to see my buddy Dave (of the two Daves fame) cross the line just under 15 hours. What a day.



The run. I need to be able to run more to my capabilities in an Ironman, but that is something to work on. Let's be realistic. 15 months ago, I was simply an average runner. 13 months ago, I completed a 300 meter/14 mile/5K triathlon and felt good about myself. I still have a lot of room to improve.

And, I need a better bike. :)


The end of the story is that I discovered Sunday afternoon that I had won an award. I finished second in Clydesdales (39 and Under). (Clydesdales are men that weigh 200 lbs and above. I weighed about 202 at the start and probably about 190 at the end. ?) For my troubles, I received a big stone plaque, a pair of Ironman socks (which are too small for my size 15’s) and a Timex ladies’ watch, which I gave to Danielle because she needs a new watch to train for the Chicago Marathon.

I’m walking a little funny today, but it’s all good. Thanks for taking time to read this. Thanks also for all your support and kind words.