Around 7:45, they called my wave into the starting ‘corral’. We crossed the timing mat and headed into the pond.

As I stood in the water waiting for the ‘go’, I looked out at the swim course. Without my glasses on, I could barely see the furthest bouys. They were faaaaar away. So instead, I thought about all the training that got me to this point. I stayed positive and told myself I was about to complete this race. I was going to meet my goal. I was ready.

I went off in the sixth swim wave… the green caps. The group spread out quickly and I was able to swim at my pace without worrying about someone trying to climb over me. In fact, this is the first race where I’ve felt comfortable for the entire swim.

The way out was pretty uneventful. I felt good and was doing well sighting. When we turned and swam parallel to shore, I started taking some waves to the face while breathing, causing me to gag a couple times, but nothing serious. My speed picked up quite a bit here too. When we rounded the bouy and started heading back towards shore, it was like someone strapped a rocket to my back. I started flying! Mostly, this was because the current (is this really even a lake?) was helping to push us along, but I was still able to pass a bunch of people.

Before the start, they had instructed us to keep all bouys to our left. So, coming into shore, there was one more big orange bouy marking the swim exit. I kept it to my left and nearly ran into a dock. Apparently, this one bouy was supposed to be on your right. That was kinda confusing and caused me to swim and extra 50 yards or so. But before I knew it, I was seeing the sandy bottom rocking back and forth below me. I stood up and started ripping off my wetsuit. As I ran into transition, I heard my personal cheering section explode with excitement. What an awesome feeling.

I found my spot in T1 quickly and got ready for the bike. I took it a littler slower than usual and made sure I didn’t miss anything.

Of all three disciplines, I was most ready for the bike. I had ridden this course a bunch of times. And even though it was changed the day before the race (they switched a couple roads because of construction, adding 3 miles to the total), I knew what to expect.

I started out at a good pace. Not too easy, not too hard. Once again, I reminded myself that this is a long day and I had to be cautious. I settled in and began passing a ton of people from the swim waves that started before me. Around mile 5, I hopped off my bike and ducked behinda tree to pee. Thankfully, this was the only time I had to relieve myself on the bike course. I can be bad about that.

The course was beautiful. Well shaded and super fast, with just enough hills to keep you on your toes. I recorded about 1,500 feet of climbing for each loop. I was passing people on every hill , and I only got passed (permanently) by a couple of guys.

Around mile 28, I started getting antsy. I was averaging over 21 mph and couldn’t wait to come through the race site to let everyone know what a kickass ride I was having. I crested the final hill of the first loop and started seeing cars parked on the side of the road. I picked it up a little bit and came rolling past the crowd, only to hear Dee and the group explode with excitement again as they saw me again.

As brief as those moments may be, they’re definitely some of the highlights of any race.

First bike loop - 1:24

I was halfway done with the bike and feeling great. My nutritional plan seemed to be working well. I wouldn’t know for sure for a little while longer, but a quick system check said everything was a-ok. A gel every 30 minutes and two bottles of water on each loop, one of them with nuun.

At mile 40, I started slowing down slightly. The hills were getting just a little harder and my legs weren’t bouncing back as quickly as they had been. At mile 50 my neck started to get sore and my inner thighs started to chaffe. I watched my average speed start to drop. I was ready to be done with the bike, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I pushed on, desperately trying to hold a 20 mph average. I climbed the last hill and cruised in to finish up the bike.

I spent most of T2 trying not to think of the half marathon I was about to run. I quickly changed up, popped a couple salt tabs, grabbed my race belt and started running for the exit.

I ran the first two miles at a 9:00 pace and felt great, but started slowing down once I hit the first sizeable hill. I quickly realized the run was going to be about small victories. So I made a deal with myself. If I could just focus on getting to the next aid station, I’d let myself walk for 30 seconds or so while I grabbed whatever I needed. Then I’d refocus and keep running.

At mile 2, I walked the aid station and began what would become my routine for the rest of the race. A cup of heed, wash it down with a sip of water and toss the remaining water in my face and over my head. The shocking effect of the cold water bath helped me forget about the pain in my legs for a second. I would say, “Ok, time to focus. I need to run a mile. No problem.” This turned out to be a great strategy. Especially when the mile markers painted on the road went awry and started indicating that I had run further than I actually had. Rather than get sucked into the mental game the markers were playing, I stayed focused on my goal. Just getting to the next aid station.

Around mile 7, my right knee and ankle started hurting. Around this same time, I saw something painted on the ground that inspired me to keep moving. “For all the 5 AM workouts.” Now, I haven’t been big on morning workouts. But it did make me think about the months of training sessions I put into getting to this point. I was so close to my goal. For the first time that day, I knew I was going to be able to finish.

I continued to walk at each aid station and tried my best to stay focused, but I was slowing down with each passing mile. It wasn’t until the last mile that I was able to pick up the pace again. As soon as I saw the camp, all my pain was gone. As I entered the camp, I saw Mike, who told me I only had a 1/4 mile to go. I sprinted with everything I had left down the final pathway, around a couple turns, across the wooden bridge and finally… finally I ran down the finishing chute.

“Here comes Christopher Simpkins, from Reading Massachusetts!” It was the first time in a race the announcer said my name. For a split second, I imagined him following it up with, “You are an ironman!” But he didn’t. This was ‘just’ a half ironman. This was my goal.

I thought about all the small victories that brought me to this point. Finding the will to go running when there was still snow on the ground, or cycling in the rain when my legs still hurt from the previous day’s workout, getting off the couch to begin training in the first place, or just trying to make it to the next mile. Each little victory had a part in getting me to this point, and they were all there with me at the end.

As I hit the finish line, I tossed my arms up and smiled. Nine months ago, it was something I never thought I’d be able to do. But here I was. I did it. And it felt better to cross that finish line than I ever could have imagined.

Interestingly enough, all 3 courses wound up being long. According to the results page, it was a 1.3 mile swim, a 59 mile bike and a 13.5 mile run. Had it been a true half iron, my calculations tell me I would’ve come in around 5:33:58. Not too shabby for my 4th traithlon and 1st half iron!