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No triathlon is easy.
It doesn’t matter the distance, it doesn’t matter how many you’ve done. Sprint
or ultra, first or a dozen. That’s why not everyone signs up to do one, and also
why many are “one and done.” You have to be good enough at 3 different
disciplines just to finish, and that’s not taking into consideration the numerous
factors that are out of your control: weather, mechanical issues on the bike,
insects and small animals, other participants, even spectators (who are not to
be confused with insects and small animals!).
Going into Ironman Wisconsin for the 3rd time, I was feeling very confident.
Coaches Ebe and Lauren with TCE Multisport had done everything they could
to help set me up for the first of 3 major races over the span of 7 weeks. I was
having better workouts than ever before leading into a big race. All signs
pointed towards a PR (personal record) day, and deep down I knew it was
entirely possible and I had the physical tools to do it.
When race day finally came, however, I knew from the moment I woke up that
it wasn’t going to be a PR day. I didn’t feel as energized as I usually do. It
wasn’t due to lack of sleep, I think it was just my brain reminding my body that today was supposed to be a (ridiculously expensive) training day. At times my pre-race routine felt like I was just going through the motions. In retrospect that’s not a bad thing; I wasn’t freaking out over anything minor, and I wasn’t in my own head over-analyzing what I could potentially do. I was honestly more excited for my teammates, many of whom were doing their first Ironman.
After our team photo, I got in line for the swim start. Since my last IMWI in 2015,
they changed from a mass swim start (all 2,000+ participants in the water at the
same time) to what’s called a self-seeded start. It was honestly a bit of a cluster,
but when they opened the starting chute I was able to pretty easily join the 1
hour to 1:10 expected swim time group. After the pros went off, we started
marching forward, 5 or so athletes entering the water at a time every 5 seconds.
The coolest part was seeing Mike Reilly - The Voice of Ironman - standing right there at the swim start, high-fiving every single athlete who walked by. (If you don’t know of Mike and his visibility in the sport, Google him. It’ll take too long to explain). He doesn’t announce every race, and I’ve never seen him actually in the thick of the swim start like that. That was a cool way to start the day.
Moments after I received my high-five from Mike, I dove into the 69-degree
water on an overcast and soon-to-be very windy day. I have mixed feelings
about this self-seeded swim start. I will fully admit, it takes a lot of the challenges
in the first 400 yards out of play: elbowing other swimmers, swimming over each
other, fighting for position, and simply just trying to keep taking in air instead of
water. I expected with the sorting, it would be easier to find someone to draft
with and I could have a relatively easy, fast swim. I could not have been more
wrong.
The water was already a little choppy, which is a little unusual for IMWI. As the
swim progressed, the winds picked up and the chop got worse. Swells of 1 foot
or more may not sound like much, but it makes sighting the buoys VERY difficult.
I usually have no issues sighting since I tend to swim pretty straight, but it’s
reassuring to peek up every 10 seconds or so to make sure you’re not drifting
too far out of line. It was affecting everyone. All strategies went out the window
after making the first turn. Strong swimmers were coming to a dead stop. People
who couldn’t sight well were breast stroking and frog-kicking. There would be no
drafting, this was about surviving and just getting out of the water safely.
To give some perspective, there are safety watercraft surrounding the entire
swim course. They are there to provide emergency assistance if needed, and
they can also serve as a resting point for athletes. The craft can’t advance
anyone, but if someone is out of breath or not feeling well, maybe need to
readjust their goggles, they can do so while hanging on to the side. I remember
seeing people clinging to 3 safety craft between turns 1 and 2 (imagine a
NASCAR track and it’s pretty much the same swim course layout) and halfway
along the back stretch I saw a pontoon boat that had at least 10 participants
hanging on to it. In previous years, I’ve never seen more than 3 people in the
fast swim group looking for assistance that early. I heard afterwards that over
60 people did not make it onto the bike course in time.
I was relieved to make the final turn and have a slight current assist towards
the end. When I got out of the water, the 55 degree temps didn’t feel awful
except for on my feet. The concrete path up the helix of the Monona Terrace
was numbing! But the crowd is what makes Ironman Wisconsin special: the
entire path is lined with spectators cheering on every single person. You can’t
help but smile and feel a little bit like a professional athlete.
The carpeted hallways never felt so good to my feet. As I entered Transition 1
to change into my bike gear, I saw Tim Fencl - transition volunteer
extraordinaire - and he helped me get on my way. I felt like it was a good
transition, but I wasn’t paying any attention to my watch. I figured the swim
took me well over an hour and 10 minutes, maybe closer to 1:20 with all that
chop. It didn’t matter to me, it was simply time to get out on the bike course.
With a forecasted high of only 65 degrees and overcast skies all day with a
chance of rain, it would be important to eat and drink plenty on the bike. It’s
always important, but on cool days people often don’t drink enough and
become dehydrated on the run. My 3 bottles had Skratch in them for
additional calories, which is why I wasn’t happy with what happened about
1.5 miles into the ride. I hit a large bump, and heard one of my bottles fall out
of its cage. Shit! I needed that nutrition, and I also didn’t want anyone to hit
my bottle and have an accident so early in the race, especially since a friend
and teammate had that happen to her a few years ago on a training ride. I
wouldn't be able to live with myself, leaving that bottle out there and risk the
same thing happening to someone else. Luckily the bottle had rolled off to
the side, but I still safely retrieved it without getting in anyone’s way.
My mantra on the bike was “take what the course gives me, no more and
no less.” People were passing me relentlessly, while I in turn passed very
few. I’m used to it. I always tell others, “I go backwards on the bike.” When
you know your strengths and weaknesses, it’s easier to deal with what could
be viewed as a negative. I smiled every time I “got chicked,” which in
triathlon terms is when a woman passes a male competitor. I smiled because
it’s great to see more women in the sport, and to see them doing well.
A boring ride is a good ride, but
it was always a boost when I saw Wendy, my teammates and friends on the course.
I smiled coming up all the major hills, and drew energy from the crowds there.
They were awesome as always, and it was great seeing so many people out there
despite the weather. I had a little excitement at times, avoiding a few bottle
launches myself, but what I was most pleased with was how I handled the big
descents. Most of you probably know of the crash I had just before Memorial Day
weekend, and I’ve been more cautious at high speeds as a result. But being out
there with other cyclists gave me more confidence, and on most downhills I took
advantage of the free speed and twice got up to 45mph (don't tell Wendy)!
I kept an eye on my heart rate and cadence to make sure I was never working
too hard. I ate and drank all my nutrition, and when I was done I took bananas
and Gatorade from the aid stations. I peed three times (yes, on the bike while
still moving) which told me I was doing a great job staying hydrated. I was still
envisioning a strong run, possibly even under 4 hours if I had enough legs left
over. But my legs weren’t happy with me that day. I did something to my right
knee a few weeks ago, and it was flaring up from time to time. Nothing
detrimental; in hindsight it was probably a good thing because it helped keep
me in check. But when you do as much climbing as that bike course has, it’s
hard to come off and knock out a fast marathon. Especially with a headwind
most of the 15 miles back to downtown Madison.
I made it back, and I finally looked at my bike time. My best-ever IMWI bike is
5:57, and I came in at 6:12. It was an average of 18mph, and I was satisfied
with that. I was ready to get off the bike and do what I do best - run.
Transition 2 was a little slow, a volunteer kept trying to take my bike away
before I could hit stop on my bike computer (I think we looked like Laurel and
Hardy for a bit). When I got into the terrace to get ready for the run, Tim was
again there to help me along with another volunteer and before I left he
wanted a picture. I didn’t mind: it wasn’t a PR day anyway, right?
I headed out on the run and started clicking off miles. My original goal was to
shoot for an 8:40 average for the first 20 miles. The first 2 were very fast, even
with two stops to adjust my shoes. I ran through aid stations, grabbing more
bananas and Gatorade on the go. My mantra on the run was “keep it
sustainable”, and early on I felt like it was. I finished the first run loop in 1 hour
and 56 minutes. If I could maintain that pace, a sub-4 hour finish was doable.
It wasn’t meant to be, though. The bike course had taken a large toll on my
legs, and both of my achilles started feeling tight. I eased up the pace on the
second loop and reminded myself to have fun. I joked with my teammates
and gave Wendy a quick kiss as I headed out for the second loop. I high-fived
all the little kids who stand alongside the course with their hands out. I thanked
every police officer who was controlling traffic (on the bike course also). When
I saw familiar faces I gave them big smiles and encouragement. When I made
it to Mile 20 and only had 6 miles to go, I knew sub-4 was not likely unless I
dug deep and pushed it.
But why push that hard? I had nothing to gain and so much to lose. With two
more races looming in the distance, it wasn’t worth risking injury or additional
fatigue. I also was having some GI issues which were forcing me to take brief
pauses, and I also had to make two visits to the port-o-johns (another sign of
good hydration). I was truly content and happy with simply finishing, and
looked forward to seeing Wendy at the finish line.
A few miles later I happened upon Eric McGarrah, a friend from Des Moines,
and he was having a challenging day of his own. I walked with him for almost
two miles, and it was nice to have a talk with someone from back home. It
was exactly the break I needed, and I’d like to think it helped him also.
As we neared Camp Randall, I saw my teammate Karla starting her first lap.
This was her first Ironman, and when I saw her I was really happy, but she was
even more so! I knew from looking at her there was no way she was going to
be denied this finish. I would later learn she barely made the bike cut-off, but
she did in fact finish and had a great day!
Right after that I decided to run it in and be finished with my day. I figured I
could finish the run around 4 hours and 20 minutes. I hustled down Dayton,
thanking the volunteers at the aid stations, smiled while making my way up
State Street, and looked forward to coming around the final corner to the
finish chute.
I made my way down and saw Wendy waiting for me where the carpet for the
chute began. I stopped and gave her a big kiss, looked around to make sure I
wasn’t going to ruin anyone else’s finishing moment and photos, and headed
for the finish line. I heard Mike Reilly announce my name (correctly!) and as
has become a tradition of mine, I held up 4 fingers to signify my 4th finish.
Mike noticed it as I ran by his announcer’s platform, and announced to the
crowd I was a 4-time Ironman. That makes a cool moment from Mike to both
start the day and finish it.
The coolest surprise was waiting for me at the finish: Lauren had somehow
snuck her way through the volunteers catching finishers, and was waiting for
me with a huge-ass smile. It was such a great way to finish! For a moment I
thought about jumping up into her arms as she had done at one of her
finishes, but she’s short and even though she’s tough as nails, we probably
both would have fallen to the ground!
I felt as good physically as I have after any race. Lauren walked me back to
get some food, Wendy came over to check on me, and it was only then that
I asked: “What was my time?”
Lauren looked at the app, then looked at me with wide eyes. “Dude. Sub-12!
11:57!”
I couldn’t believe it, with walking nearly 2 miles of the run and my slowest
Ironman bike split ever! How was that possible? I then learned that my swim
split was 1 hour and 11 minutes, which was FAR faster than the 1:20 I had
estimated. Plus my T1 time was barely 8 minutes, which is the fastest T1 time
I’ve had in an Ironman race. Add those in, and that's how I (barely) pulled off
another sub-12 Ironman Wisconsin.
Like I said at the beginning, this was not easy. I was often uncomfortable on
the bike. My lower back was bothering me, and when the discomfort would
start to guide my thoughts to a dark place, I thought of my grandmother.
Grammy passed away back in June. She had been suffering from back pain
for well over a year, and I thought that if she could get up every day and live
with that pain, I can handle the rest of this bike ride.
Almost exactly a year earlier when I was spectating and volunteering at
IMWI ‘18, I wrote her my weekly email and told her that I was dedicating all of
my races in 2019 to her. This is the second race I’ve done since her passing,
but it’s the first race report I’ve written that she won’t be reading. It’s very
bittersweet, because she always told me how much she loved my writing
(she claimed I missed my calling as an author) and enjoyed reading my race
recaps.
Yes, these recaps are long, but when I wrote my very first one 5 years ago,
one of my stated goals was to take readers out on the course with me. If
you’re an experienced triathlete, maybe reading all of this is too much detail
for you or you're looking for analytical data, or maybe you’re just looking for a
quick summary. These recaps are probably not for you. You already know
what it’s like out there, but so many people don’t and they may not have the
physical tools or abilities to do so on their own. Now that Grammy has
passed on, maybe someone else I know who isn’t as physically able can
get a sense of what it’s like to do a race. I also stated that I hoped these
reports would inspire others to attempt new goals, and I’ve had several
people tell me publicly and privately that I did in fact achieve that. So these
lengthy race reports will continue!
I suppose these aren’t really race reports at all. They’re more like race
stories. I truly appreciate anyone taking the time to read them (you could
be playing Words With Friends or CandyCrush instead)!
I also need to make it clear how much I appreciate my amazing wife
Wendy for allowing me to pursue these crazy endeavors and chasing
me down on race courses across the country; Coaches Ebe, Lauren,
and the entire TCE Multisport Team for providing me with the outlet that
we all need to vent our triathlete frustrations to; to the volunteers who
truly are the heart and soul of events like this, without which they simply
would not exist; to all my friends who were also racing and spectating
that weekend, I wish I had more time to hang out with you all; to the
local businesses that aren’t sponsors but treat me as if they are, and to
everyone who has supported me along the way. Your comments and
encouragement mean more than you think.
Next up: Double Anvil Virginia in 3 weeks.
