I had planned to start the swim with Chirs, Tanya, and Rick. We were going to let the crowd go for a couple of minutes and ease into the swim when there was some clear water. I couldn't find them and my nerves were starting to rise. Thankfully, I saw Travis. I talked to him for a minute and sent him ahead since he is a strong swimmer and needed to get closer to the front. Seeing him and talking to him reminded me of Soma when the same thing happened. It put my mind at ease and I was ready to get started. As we waited in the (cold!) water, the announcer mentioned how the mass start of an Ironman is one of the great spectacles in sports, how it is like a washing machine. I thought to myself, 'yeah, maybe it's great when you're not in the middle of it on the spin cycle!'.

The cannon sounded and the day was underway. Even though it was crowded and there was a lot of contact, I was calm and collected as I was moving forward. I just kept swimming. I'd get bumped, stop for a second, and then resume. I had this under control. I passed Sun Devil stadium and then the Rural Rd. bridge was in sight. I knew the turnaround was a little past the bridge. When I made the turn to start back toward the finish, I checked my time. I was at 42 minutes. Incredible. I knew the back half was a little longer, but I was on a great pace, was comfortable in the water, and wasn't tired. There was even more contact on the backside, which was annoying but it wasn't rattling me. I made the final turn and headed back toward the ramp. I was almost done, and I was just approaching an hour and a half. Awseome! Not only was I going to finish the swim, but I was going to get out of the water about 5-10 minutes earlier than expected.

A volunteer (they were awesome all day - you'll see this as a recurring theme) helped me out of the water and I was overjoyed. The scariest part of the day was over. I think of each leg of the race as a different type of challenge and different type of concern. In the swim, it's mental. My mind could hold me back. On the bike, it's mechanical. If something goes wrong, the day could be out the window. On the run, it's physical. The body can shut down and force you out. Having jumped the biggest mental hurdle for the day, I was on cloud nine. I even heard the announcer say my name as I stood up. I practically danced along the path toward the transition area with the biggest, goofiest smile of my life pasted across my face. I was off to a great start.

Not a thing. This was the best start I could have hoped for.

I ran into Chris in the changing tent, and we talked about how relieved we were that we had gotten through the swim unscathed. We were both thrilled to have gotten off to a good start. I sent Chris ahead since I was taking my time and needed to use the restroom, hoping to catch up to him later.

No regrets. It was a slow transition, but I wanted to collect myself and be ready for the bike.

The bike for me is a deal with the devil. If I ride naturally, I can keep a great pace but I always end up suffering on the run. I had intended to hold back the pace to save my legs for the run, trying to find a sweet spot between 17.5 - 18 mph. On this course, it is a little challenging since the way out is uphill (slow) and the way back is downhill (very fast). That makes it tough to gauge what your average speed will be for an entire loop. I knew that if I kept each loop at around 2:10, I would still have plenty of time for the marathon. I also knew that going at that pace wouldn't kill me, since I had done a training ride at around 20 mph there a couple of weeks before.

The first loop started slowly as I got warmed up. I ate a Powerbar as I made my way through Tempe. As I headed toward the Beeline Hwy, I saw Chris again. He was off to a good start and riding solidly. We talked for a bit and he sent me ahead. Seeing my friends on the course made all of the difference in the world, as it gave me a great boost each time I saw someone. I turned onto the Beeline, and felt a breeze coming from the North. This made the progress a little slow. A couple of the pros and race leaders passed me, and I got an idea for how fast they are up close. I saw Tanya as we made our way up the hill and we chatted a bit. She told me to go ahead and do my thing, so I headed for the turnaround. The trip back down was exhilarating with the wind and the hill behind me. I coasted into Tempe feeling good and ahead of pace. Jenna and some of my friends were at the turnaround to start the next loop, so that gave me a boost. I got a little bit of a rush each time I crossed a timing mat. I knew that BT and some friends and family were tracking me online, so every time I crossed, I thought of all of the people who were able to see my progress and thought to myself, 'give them a split!'.

I started the second loop sticking with my Infinit mix and water, as solid foods weren't appealing to me. My pace was good and my energy level felt fine. I saw Kerri at the second aid station and gave her a wave and a shout. Not long after, I saw Tom, who was working on a solid ride after an excellent swim. I was excited to see another friendly face on the course, and I knew that I would see him later on the run, since he is an excellent runner and would catch me. Next I saw Jerry on the uphill. I was excited to see him, too. He sent me ahead on the uphill and said he would probably see me going down. He was right as he whizzed past after the turnaround. At the turn, I knew that the bike was half over, and only one more trip up the Beeline remained. Two thirds of the remaining miles would be relatively easy.

I looked forward to getting back into town where I would have Jenna, the crowds, and some friends to give me another boost of energy. I always have my hardest time between miles 60 and 80 and I was right in that window. I got back into town and saw everybody, which kept my mental and physical energy levels high. I held up three fingers as I passed Jenna to signify that this was the third loop and started back out.

Things were getting a little hard as the third loop started, but I felt better knowing it was the last trip and I just had to get through it. I was getting a little tired of the Infinit mix, so I decided to take some Gatorade at the next aid station to change things up. I still didn't feel like solid food, but I tried to force down some trail mix. A few small fingerfuls was about all I could take. As I took the turn up the beeline, I told the riders around me, 'this is it - our last trip up the hill, then it's all downhill to the end!'. I was hoping that showing some enthusiasm would help me as well as those around me. As I got to the aid station, I pointed to Kerri and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from her that would last me the rest of the ride. I started up the hill for the final time, and there was actually a little of a breeze pushing up the hill this time - a welcome change. It would be in my face after the turnaround, but I would have the hill to help with that. As I approached the top of the hill, I saw Vinnie, who I see at the gym for swim training twice per week. I talked to him for a little bit and then made the turn. The trip down was great as I was able to coast a bit and see the miles tick off the odometer. I had crossed the 100 mile mark, I was feeling better after geting through the 80 mile wall, and the trip into Tempe would be pretty manageable. On the flat streets heading toward town, I saw Paulette, which gave me another mental boost. After a short chat, she sent me ahead. The run is her strength and she was looking forward to being done with the bike (and even though I like the bike, I was ready to be done as well).

I felt my energy rise again when I arrived in Tempe as the crowd was thick and noisy. It was a great atmosphere that kept me going all day. I reached the dismount line and looked at the time. I had finished the bike leg in less than 6:10 and had averaged about 18.2 mph. The chance of mechanical failure had now been removed, and nothing stood in my way but my own two feet. I realized at that moment what this meant in the big picture. After transition, I would have over nine hours to complete the marathon, and even if I couldn't run a single step and had to walk the whole thing, I still would have enough time to finish. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized that nothing was going to stop me from my main goal of finishing this race. I smiled wide as I grabbed my run stuff and went to the change tent to get ready for the run.

Not a thing. I pushed the bike a little more than necessary to give myself extra time for the marathon. In doing so, I took the danger of a slow run out of the equation and wouldn't be in a position to have to maintain a certain pace to beat the cutoff. It may have made my total time a little slower than if I had paced better, but it was a huge relief to know that making the cutoff was no longer dependent on my running ability.

Another transition where I just took my time. The master clock was no longer a factor and I was enjoying a great day. I was going to finish - now it was a matter of when. I got myself together and headed out to the run course.

I had a strategy all mapped out for the run. I was going to run 9 minutes and walk 1 minute for the first half and then reduce it to a 5 to 1 ratio for the rest. This plan turned out to be way too ambitious, but it started well. People always tell you to have a plan A, B, C, and D for an Ironman race, and to be prepared to use them all. I had been lucky thus far in the day and never had to resort to anything beyond a plan B. The run would change that. I started the first loop at a 9:1 ratio. Sally passed me at mile two on the north side of the lake and encouraged me. My ratio worked okay for about a half hour until I hit the hill on Curry - a hill which has stopped me in my tracks in other races. After walking up the hill, I tried to get the run going again, but my legs weren't cooperating. I started walking to try to get them back.

I made my first pass through the center of the figure eight, where Jenna was waiting for me with some of my friends - Kerri and Melanie among them. I was excited to see her, but knew I had a long evening ahead since I was having trouble getting a run going. On the second part of the figure eight, a man named Vince started walking with me. He was having foot trouble and wasn't able to run. It was good to have the company and we talked through the rest of the loop. As expected, Tom caught up and encouraged me to run with him for a little bit. I probably only lasted about 20-30 seconds before my legs told me no more. Tom went ahead as he had a good pace going. Lisa saw me as I reached the last aid station of the loop and talked to me for a few minutes, which helped boost my spirits. I was about to start the second loop and things were going just fine.

I started the second loop still trying to maintain a brisk walk. Even though I was going slow, I was still making progress, felt mentally great, and physically strong enough to keep going. I got on the north side of the lake, and decided to try to run again. One of my alternatives was to run for a minute and walk for a minute. I started this ratio and it was working. I got into a little rhythm and was able to stick with it. Every minute I walked took me a little closer to the finish line a little faster. I saw Jenna again each time through the center of the figure eight, and told her I was doing just fine - off running pace a little bit but no concerns. I was definitely going to finish - just not sure when. I did know, however, that I was well below my 'goal' pace of 15 hours for the whole event. As I hit the straighaway that leads to the end of the loop, I saw Jen and Josh who were cheering everyone on. Jen took a picture of Josh, me, and their dogs, and asked me how I was doing. I told her I was about to start the final loop of an IM marathon, what did she think? I was doing GREAT! I was flying high as I only had one more lap to go and I would be an Ironman.

I stuck to my one minute run, one minute walk system through the first half of the figure eight. The run minutes started to feel a little longer, but I at least wanted to get to mile 21 before doing anything different. Mile 21 is where I completely hit a wall in my only previous marathon, and I wanted to get past that mark. I stopped at special needs on my way through and picked up my long sleeve shirt and last bottle of Infinit. I wasn't sure I wanted to drink it, but I liked that bottle better than the one I was carrying and the one I had in my hand was getting thrown away. I also picked up some blister repair stuff and ointment in case I needed it toward the end. I still wasn't in the mood for any solid food, but decided that I could eat or drink anything that looked good at the aid stations once I hit mile 23.

I saw Jenna and told her that I was only five miles from the end and she should head to the finish area. And I would see her there. And I could hardly believe the words were coming out of my mouth. I was almost done.

At each aid station, I thanked the volunteers profusely. They had been fantastic all day long, their enthusiasm was infectious, and I knew it would be the last time I would see them. It was now pitch dark, and this is the time that I had been waiting for for over a year. I had heard so many stories of the end of an Ironman race - when it is dark and quiet on the far reaches of the course, the temperatures drop, glow sticks get handed out so that racers can be seen, and they start serving warm chicken broth at the aid stations. I couldn't wait to be a part of that, and this was what I had imagined. In most races, my mind will usually on at least one occasion take me to what I call 'the dark place'. This is where things get mentally tough and I start to question myself. I had given myself a bunch of mental tricks that I was ready to use when this happened during IM, but much like my bike supplies, they were tools that never needed to be brought out of the tool box. I never went to the dark place and felt great through the whole day - it was almost eerie. At the last two aid stations, I drank some chicken broth and some cola - still wasn't ready for solid food, but it was a good change of pace for my palate and stomach.

I hit the straightaway that heads under the Mill Ave. bridge toward the finish. As many times as I have run, biked, and swam over, under, and around that bridge, I had never been so happy to see it. There were white lights strung across it, and it looked beautiful. I also knew that the finish line would be right on the other side of it after I ran under. After passing the lights of the bridge, it was dark again, but it would be temporary. The spectators lining the course were shouting their congratulations, but it was mostly a blur. I reached the split where the course forks - the right fork is for the first and second loops and the left fork goes to the finish. After six hours of running and walking, I was finally getting to take the left fork. As soon as you take the fork, you are running through a parking lot. A spectator got my attention as I ran through the lot and said 'you are about to become an Ironman'. I felt my heart start to rise into my throat as my dream was about to become a reality. As soon as the parking lot ended, there was an immediate left turn toward the finisher's chute. As I approached the bend, I looked around me and saw a runner approaching me from behind with a faster pace. I waved him along so he could go down the chute alone. I followed soon after so I could have a moment also. The lights are almost blinding as you take the turn and hear the crowd, the music, and the announcer, Mike Reilly. I looked left and saw Jenna, who was ready with the camera. I raised my arms as I headed toward the finish. As I reached the line, I heard Mike Reilly say 'Brian Hannahs, from Surprise, Arizona, you are an Ironman'. I crossed the line and was 'caught' by my friend Kim. She checked to make sure I was okay, made sure I got my finisher's medal, shirt, and hat, and led me to the finsher picture area. After an entire day of seeing friends and Jenna everywhere I looked, it was perfect that Kim was my catcher at the finish. I found Jenna and gave her a hug. After all of her patience with me in pursuing this goal, and all of the support she had given me, it was her moment, too.


Nothing - a slow run was a conservative, strategic move and it worked in the overall picture.

I sat in the finisher's area for a few minutes, had a can of cola and collected myself. I looked down at my finisher's medal and got a little misty, thinking of everything that went into getting it. I came out and found Jenna and we went to get my equipment.


It's difficult to summarize one of the single greatest days of one's life, but this is one I will remember forever. It was perfect and beautiful in so many ways. I wanted to enjoy and appreciate the entire experience and I did. I was smiling all the way through. It was a day spent with friends and encouragement everywhere I turned, and I got to share it with my wife, who was very supportive. Very rarely can one build something up in their head to be so monumental, and have it turn out to be everything that was expected. This was - it was great from start to finish, and I enjoyed it immensely. It took two years of work before I felt ready to make the commitment, and a very intense year of work after that to get me to where I needed to be. However, now that it is over, I can safely say that it was completely worth it and gratifying. I can't think of a way that it could have been better.