RACE REPORT

Ironman Wisconsin
9/11/2011

Total time: 14:54.
Place 13th in 60-65 age group. Upper third


Nothing is impossible. I don't care what you think you can't do. You are wrong.
I went from being a 400-pound morbidly obese man at 54 to an Ironman two weeks shy of my 60th birthday.
I have set the appointment for the tattoo. I earned it with a lot of help from my wife/manager Kathy, coach Stan Watkins of Vision Quest and a host of friends, mentors and supporters.
The Ironman is the hardest, best thing I've ever done. Cancer prepared me. Pain truly is temporary.
One other trait that is essential - Johann Bruynell said embrace trouble as if you planned it that way. Stay positive, deal with one is and not what you wish it to be, and keep moving.
The secret to becoming an Ironman is to start swimming when the cannon goes off and don't stop until Mike Reilly says you are an Ironman.
The swim was fun. The cannon went off and I was smiling, thankful to be alive as a cancer survivor, thankful to be there. All the work, all the sacrifice was coming down to the next 17 hours.
The course is basically out and back. I did exactly as suggested, stay to the right, stay out of trouble. Perfect strategy. I was able to start counting strokes from the beginning. I stayed to the right for the first turn and saw spaces developing so I moved in after the second turn. Very little body contact. I’ve had as much during an Olympic. Time was 1:35. I was shooting for anything less than 1:45.
T1 was long. I changed clothes, drank and ate and then had to run my bike about a half mile out of transition. They had the old codgers as far away from the exit as could be. Just doesn’t seem fair.
The bike is usually my strongest event. Not today. I am so glad I rode the course 5 times before in person and several times on my Computrainer. It was knowledge that was invaluable when my leg started cramping at mile 80 at the first major climb. I took S Tabs for two weeks, I had Endurolyte powder in my Perpetuleum bottles and still I was cramping. The first one was so quick I thought I might have imagined it. But the second hill was worse. I almost seized up. At that point, the old untrained me would have tried pushing through it. And I would have ended the day screaming at the side of the road. Instead, I thought about how long the day was. Things could turn my way if I gave them time. I thought ahead about what was coming. When I knew a tough climb was coming, I just told myself out loud, “Spin, spin, spin. Do not push up this hill.” At one point I actually stopped and walked 50 feet before a big climb coming to stretch it out. Then I got back on the bike and rode up it between a massive crowd. I prayed they wouldn’t see me fall. And they didn’t.
Second loop was more of the same. When it was flat, I went all out. When it was hilly, I shifted down and just spun. Last climb on the stick was tough. Both legs gave me fits to the top. But neither one seized completely. It was all flat or downhill after that. I felt really good when I got done. I left the T1 at 2 hours. I got in at 8:45. I transitioned out at 9 hours. I was exactly where I thought I needed to be time-wise. Yes, I would have liked it to be 6:15 in e saddle, but too bad, it wasn’t. But I had thought about this a long time. In those earlier planning sessions in my head I thought if I got out of T2 at 9 hours, I would succeed. The thought came, I can do this. Then the next moment I thought, Scott, younger people than you can’t do a bloody marathon without swimming and biking beforehand. And I just pushed that thought aside. They just don’t know what I know. Nothing is impossible.
The run was amazing. Crowds everywhere. They print your name on the race number so everyone is yelling your name as you go by. Scott, you look strong. Scott, you are looking great. Scott, you got this made… Earlier I heard one person yell Iceman! It was Sara from BT! Others from my tri club were along the way too, calling Scott, Iceman, you are doing it! It was so bloody moving, to invest so much time, sweat, money in something and be there doing it.
I also found it amazing that I really did think I could run 26.2 miles before the cutoff without trouble. I’d been cramping on the bike after all. Here is a secret – don’t think at all about problems on the earlier portions. Put them away until later. Whatever went badly doesn’t matter at all. Forget it.
I ran up to a fireman doing the IM. They had introduced him at the banquet. He planned on doing the run in full fireman garb, raincoat, pants and all. There he was and he was wearing an air tank and carrying an axe. I slowed, shook his hand as he walked along and kept going. He was going to make it, I knew. If I were ahead, then I would make it too.
As the hamstrings started to seize, I walked. When they relaxed, I ran. I thought that was no big deal. I had planned to walk through rest stops anyway. So what if I walked. I also did what every one else was doing – walking up the major hills. Silly not to…if my legs seized I was though. So easy does it.
Here is another secret to finishing an Ironman. They say the mastermind behind triathlon had a saying – Just keep going forward.
A marathon is a long way. Don’t think about it. Think about how far you’ve come.
Time from BT appeared out of no where on a calm quiet stretch of the run. Perfect timing. He told me I looked good, that I looked strong. He jogged next to me and we chatted. I asked if he was going to be there when I came around again. He said yes. It gave me a wonderful feeling to know I had a friend waiting for me along the way.
I finished the first loop in 3 hours. I was at 12 hours. I had 5 hours to do 13.1 miles. I saw my wife and coach Stan Watkins and Stan’s wife Sue again. They were on State Street amid the insanity of the crowds. I saw Kathy looked worried. I stopped and kissed her. (Not my coach.) I told her we are not going to have to come back. I am finishing this now. And despite the fact of all the stories I’d heard about a “wall,” I was sure I was going to get done. Just keep moving forward.
I ran into a coach/friend from Tri-Sharks Kevin and his girlfriend, Missy. Both are Ironmen and were there encouraging Kevin’s clients who were racing. Missy said, You are going to be an Ironman today. (I am tearing up as I remember that moment.) Kevin said, You’ve got 11 more miles. How hard can that be? I thought, not hard at all. An easy training run.
The volunteers were great. I asked at the next stop if they had any chicken broth, a trick I’d learned from Ryan Case, an Ironman who had bad muscle cramping when he did IM Moo the year before.
I met a woman who was celebrating her 43 birthday by doing the IM. She had done it in 2005. IM Moo fell on her birthday that year too but she didn’t finish. Amy and I ran together for several miles.
Thank god the sun went down. My tempo actually picked up a bit. I felt strong, my legs were sore but not cramping.
Tim appeared in the darkness, this time on a bike. He rode back to within a 1.5 miles of the finish with me, chatting about anything and everything, taking my mind off the pain. Thank you Tim.
I slowed down to get some sponges to clean up for the finish. I went down State Street, just me and my thoughts and hundreds of cheering people. Scott, you did it. You are going to be an Ironman. Just 2 more miles…139 down, just 1 more mile to go. My digestive system had long ago shut down. I had quit taking in broth. The thought of another Gu turned my stomach. I tossed the last banana I had tried to eat. I was fuled by adrenaline.
Then I was running around the Capital Square. Northside, eastside. The finish was on the south side. I ran into the funnel…people were hammering their hands on the sponsor placards. The music was blaring. I saw my wife, my coach and his wife. Their smiles were huge. And then I heard Mike Reilly yell those words I’d been waiting to hear for 3 years:
“Scott Richardson of Normal Illinois, You are an Ironman!”
He went on to say I’d lost 200 pounds and was completing my first IM at age 60. (USAT rules, you race at the age you will be at the end of that year. I turn 60 on 9/27.)
I ran across the finish into the arms of a couple of women volunteers. I felt fine then. But I started feeling nauseous, light headed. My coach led me to the food…I couldn’t eat. They had me lay down with my feet up. I felt fine. Then tried to stand and felt bad again. I would up in the medical tent getting fluids. I didn’t care. I was at mile 140.7. The race was over.
Get this. They close the tent at midnight. You’d think they would stay open to handle the last folks, but no. Since my bag was still running, they made me go to a nearby ER where that one finished and I got another. Then we went back to the motel. Next day, home. Felt crappy Monday. Legs sore, as sore as they’ve ever been. No energy. Slept 11 hours and today, Tuesday, I feel much better. Legs are less sore.
I want to thank all of you on Beginner Triathlete. Your advice and support have been unbelievable. Priceless asset, this web site. Thank you. If aanyone has specific questions just ask.
Tim, your being there was absolutely incredible. My wife says we should volunteer next year. I think we will because you showed me how critical a kind face and an encouraging word can be. Thank you.
I get my tattoo tomorrow, Wednesday. A simple read IM on my leg. Kathy is going to take pictures. I hope I don’t cry.