Hello
blog readers! Finally I am getting my
Ironman recap done. I swear my body is
STILL recovering from what was one of the hardest events of my life. Totally worth it!
If
you read my last blog post, you know that the months of training included much
studying for what would be the biggest test of my life in interviewing for
Delta Air Lines. The interview was a
success, to say the least. I got my
conditional job offer on 8/3/16 and shifted my mental focus to doing Boulder to
the best of my ability.
I’ll
break it down into five separate segments – pre-race, the swim, the bike, the
run, and post-race. Here we go.
Pre-Race (Sunday)
We
woke up at the butt-crack of dawn, as usual.
Even earlier than normal this morning so we could make breakfast and get
up there to catch the buses to the reservoir.
T also had to drop some things off in her special run needs. We got our final stuff loaded in the car and
made the drive to Boulder.
Once
T got her stuff dropped in her special needs, we boarded the bus. I was a bit apprehensive about T being on a
bus due to what happened at Silverman last year and the Colorado ½ marathon
this year, but thankfully, she felt no nausea this time around.
We
arrived at the reservoir. Walking to our
bikes, we saw Curtis and Lisa who informed me that my sensor should be on my
bike. Yay! We also saw Randy and got body marked
early. Then we got into trans to get our
food on our bikes and tires pumped + sunscreen.
It was definitely overcast and I hoped/prayed it would stay that way all
day. We saw a couple of Macca X members
and chatted. Overall, it was a typical
tri morning. I tried listening to music,
but found it made me more anxious than usual, so I ditched the headphones.
T
and I hit the porta-potties again before we joined the swim line. Unlike IMAZ, Boulder would be doing a rolling
swim start. We both wanted to seed
ourselves in the 1:30-1:45 wave. I
thought I would be doing about a 1:35 swim due to the lack of swim training
I’ve had this year, so it was a good spot to be in. While in the swim line, I hiked my wetsuit up
a bit closer to the crotch and I heard a loud rip! My wetsuit finally gave way with a sizeable
hole in the crotch. I knew I could race
with it, but this would be the last race.
T and I had our moment before she peeled herself to the back of the
wave, whereas I would be at the front of it.
I kissed her, wished her luck, and made my way to my spot.
Before
hitting the water, I had a brief moment with Mike Reilly. He hugged me and said he’d see me at the
finish line. I was quite emotional. The culmination of everything had come
together that morning. I had worked so
hard for Delta, and I had gotten it. I
had worked hard to come to the finish line of Ironman, and here I was. With that in mind, I hit the water and began
my quest to finish my 2nd Ironman!
The Swim
I
was emotional for the first 200 meters, choking back tears. It seemed almost surreal that I was
there. The failure of Silverman was
behind me. Sure, I was undertrained, but
I was there, with everyone else. I had
just been hired at Delta. I was fucking
invincible. So I put the emotion aside,
the pain of the past few months, and put my head down to swim.
Pretty
early in the swim, I felt thirsty. Not
sure where that came from, but yeah. I
found myself having plenty of open space, until I didn’t. I kept swimming over people. Or I would come up on a person, and they
would match my pace, not letting me pass.
More than once I would have to turn on the jets to blow by them.
At
the first turn, I encountered seaweed from the floor of the reservoir. While it felt weird, it didn’t deter me. Also, unlike IMAZ, I didn’t see anyone
backstroking or floating. I kept my head
peeled for our friends Curtis and Lisa who were stand up paddleboarding, but
never saw them. Boo.
Turning
inbound to the shore, I was never more ready to get out of the water. I kept the discipline of never looking at my
watch and continued passing people.
I
could hear the music and finally my hand hit the sand. I stood up, gained my balance, and exited the
water. Like in 2013, I felt like I
hadn’t even really worked out. I found a
wetsuit stripper, had it yanked off me, and ran to the change tent of T1.
Swim Time – 1:29:19
T1
I
moved faster in this T1 than I did in Arizona.
I schnarfed some Clif Shot Blocks while I was getting everything
together. I quick ran out, grabbed my
bike, ran though the rest of transition, and hopped on.
T1 Time – 7:46
The Bike
I
knew the first 20 miles of the bike would be an up and down grind. But thanks to training the course, I knew
where to hit it hard, where to back off.
When to eat, when to drink.
Advantage, me!
Early
in the bike, I was surprised at how many people I was overtaking. I also stuck to my nutrition plan. So really, the first 15-20 miles of the bike
are nothing exciting to report. I was
surprised that on the downhills, I was a bit slower than I had been in
training. Even so, I was hitting my
sports with a faster mph than in training.
Woo!
Turning
onto the familiar J, I was dismayed to see the sun come out. Unfortunately, our overcast layer was
gone. It burned off super quick
too. Seriously? Thanks mother nature.
When
I turned onto the diagonal, I assessed where I was. The clouds were gone, so I knew it’d heat up
quickly. I also began feeling
bloated. Not sure if it was due to
drinking the res water or what, but I was having trouble getting food
down. It stayed down fine, but it was
the act of eating and drinking that was hard.
I forced liquid down, but food was just not happening. However, I didn’t worry too much about
it. There would be places to jam in
calories. Turning onto Highway 36, I
looked at my watch, saw I was about 1:30 into the ride, so no problem. I was ready to hammer. Then I saw something I’ll never forget. Stopping my bike, I saw the carnage that lay
in front of me.
There
was an athlete down. A female. I recognized her; not that I knew her
personally, but she had passed me at around mile 15 of the bike. Her kit was torn up pretty good. There were scrapes on her back and legs. Her bucket was broken in half. Not cracked, but literally in two separate
pieces on the ground. Her bike was
mangled. She was lying facedown on the
asphalt, and blood was beginning to pool out of her head. There were 4-5 riders that had stopped and
two of them were knelt down next to her.
I put my own race on hold for the moment. The race meant nothing.
I
asked a nearby volunteer if she had contacted medical personnel and she said
she did. I also told her to start asking
the stopped traffic if there was a doctor or nurse in any of the cars. Us as cyclists had no means to help out the
fallen athlete and I knew the worst thing we could have done would have been to
try to move her. I also realized there
was nothing I could do. I elected to
take a deep breath, say a few curses at the horrible thing that had happened,
and resume my race.
I
pedaled away, the gusto and bravado out of my body. I had no energy. I had no willpower. I started crying. I feared for T’s safety. After all, if this cyclist got hit, who is to
say T couldn’t? Briefly, I considered
pulling out of the race. Everyone would
have understood. I truly didn’t know at
that point if I would have the willpower to continue. I decided to dedicate the rest of my race to
the fallen athlete, whose name I didn’t know.
I said a prayer, hoping she’d be okay. I told myself that there was
nothing I could do. Maybe all she had
was a broken nose. Etc. It was a feeble attempt to convince myself,
but nonetheless, I kept pedaling.
The
climb up Nelson Road has been well documented, so I won’t rehash it too
much. It’s a brutal 4 mile grind. It takes awhile. It’s soul-crushing. And on that day, it unfortunately wasn’t any
different. The sun was high overhead and
it was hot, so you could describe it as a boiler room or the bowels of
Hell. Perseverance was the name of the
game.
Off
Nelson (for the first time), I began the long descent on Highway 36. With the fallen athlete still fresh in my
mind, I did this much more cautiously than normal. On good training days, I’ll hit 40+ mph
without even thinking. This day, I
refused to push. I couldn’t shake the
feeling of what I had seen.
The
next part of the ride is mostly a blur.
I remember getting to bike special needs and quick stopping for some
sunscreen, potato chips (Jimmy Johns Salt and Vinegar for the win!), and
Sprite. However, it was pretty obvious
that most of my appetite had vanished.
Between the horrible bloat I was having and being still incredibly
rattled by the crash, I just didn’t eat much.
I grabbed my emergency bag of Sour Patch Kids and stuffed em in my tri
tank pocket. I figured sugar could get
me through the rest.
Coming
back up the J and diagonal was difficult.
I was hurting. My mind wasn’t
into the ride. I just wanted to be done. I went down 36 again and saw Boulder FD
hosing off the highway. I was still
hoping that the athlete was okay. I
hadn’t gotten any update and truth be told, I wasn’t ready to hear.
The
second climb up Nelson was horrible.
I’ll just say it. It was
bad. I saw more than one cyclist pulled
over on one of the hills, just hurting.
I refused to stop; if I did, I wasn’t getting back on my bike. The heat was definitely pushing me to my
limit. I really regret not wearing my
arm coolers that day. Both T and I made the decision not to wear them and that
was not smart.
Continuing
on the bike course, I was mostly out of aero at this point. I was hoping around mile 100 to get the happy
Zen feeling I got in Arizona, but it never came. Instead, every pedal stroke hurt. I was so bloaty and dehydrated. I just wanted off the bike. Arizona’s bike was enjoyable save for about
25 miles. This bike was awful. Turning onto the Boulder side roads to get up
to transition was a very wonderful feeling, even though I still faced a
marathon in front of me and a ridiculously long T2.
Bike Time – 7:17:30
T2
T2
was ridiculously long. You run your bike
about .2 miles. So in bike shoes,
clomping like a damn horse, feels ridiculous. I was tired and wanted to just
get my bike far far away from me. I
handed it to a volunteer and grabbed my run clothes bag. I was hoping to beat my T2 time from IMAZ, so
I had the volunteer help me into my compression socks. Seriously, those things are a bitch and a
half to get on. Ready to go, I charged
out the change tent and got on the run.
T2 Time - 13:14
The Run
In
my last Ironman, I couldn’t wait to be off the bike and on the run, and Boulder
was the same feeling. I actually had a
bit of pep in my legs, although you wouldn’t be able to tell by my
times/splits. In miles 1-2 I actually
found some run in my legs.
I
was hitting the early aid stations, grabbing water and ice. I still was feeling horribly bloated and
couldn’t eat much. So I figured just
keep gobbling water and ice to combat hydration.
Around
mile 6, my friend Rob met up with me. He
drove up from Superior to say hello, and walked with me for about ½ a
mile. I appreciated his
companionship.
I
don’t remember when I saw T, but I remember I was extremely happy to see her,
knowing she was safe and on the run. I
also knew she would have no problem making the finish. It’s a funny thing – for us mortals who do
this sport for fun, and are sometimes at risk of not making a cut, just knowing
you are going to make it is a huge relief.
Certainly, on what was proving to be a very tough day in Boulder, I was
ecstatic!
The
2nd loop of the run was definitely more fun than the first, even
though my body was starting to hurt every which way. I made a couple friends on the run, including
a very sweet lady who gave me some Tums to try to combat the bloat (they didn’t
help). One volunteer gave me some Advil
as well. I also realized T was catching
up to me, and while I slowed down a bit more to allow her to catch up, she was
powering through like a person possessed, and it was inspiring. I was so proud of her at that moment.
Around
mile 21, she passed me for good. I told
her to get her PR and I would see her at the finish line. She agreed.
We love each other, but today, we needed to race our own race. She joked about waiting for a good finishers
song, and with that, off she went.
Around
mile 24, I began feeling the overwhelming feeling of comfort and victory. I was going to be an Ironman!
In
the final mile, I made another run friend, one who was doing his first IM. His wife was walking with him. I had admiration for this guy. Ironman is hard. And here he was, nearly 16 hours in, but he
was smiling and just so proud. His wife
was proud too. I told him to go ahead of
me, to enjoy the finishers chute. I told
him that in Arizona, I wasn’t present when I was coming down the chute, and to
relish it. He agreed and thanked
me. Around this time, I remember hearing
Aretha Franklin’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T playing at the finish line and figured that was
T’s finishing song. Not a bad way to
cross. Soul sisters playing? Hell yeah!
You
may remember at IMAZ, I found a strange jump in my step and took off like a
lightning bolt at around mile 25.6 for the finish. That didn’t happen this time in Boulder. I didn’t get that final jump until about
26. Then I took off for the finishers
chute. This time, I was present. I high-fived a lot of people, gave Curtis and
Lisa a hug (they have me on video), and heard Mike Reilly call my name. I didn’t care what my time was. I didn’t care about anything at that moment
except that, on August 7th, 2016, I once again got to call myself an
Ironman. I leaped at the finish line,
barely stuck the landing, and pumped my fist in victory!
Run Time - 6:54:45
Race Time - 16:02:34
Post-Race
T
hung my medal on me, having finished about 10 minutes ahead of me. I was so proud of her and she was so proud of
me. We got our finishers pictures
separate and one together. Then we hit
the food tent. Having learned our lesson
from IMAZ, we vowed not to sit too long so we wouldn’t stiffen up. We chatted with Curtis and Lisa for awhile
and took stock of our teammates who had finished. It was a good day for Team MaccaX, as 4 of 5
finished the day. I ate some pizza (the
bloat was instantly gone when I hit the finish line…) and some fruit. T didn’t eat much, and we left to grab our
bikes, load up the car, and go home.
The
next morning, we woke up early to head up and buy finishers gear. The jackets this time were way better than
Arizona. We chatted with a few people,
then we headed back home. After taking a
long nap, I woke up and received a very exciting email from Delta. They had formally offered me a class on
September 6th, and I excitedly accepted it.
When
I set out to get the job at Delta and complete Ironman, I had a goal in
mind. And to achieve it, I borrowed a
phrase from the University of North Dakota men’s hockey team, who won the
National Championship in hockey this year: Believe It, Earn It, Raise It. I’ve done it.
I’ve achieved Infinity.
But
I have to be honest. My victories, as
great as they are, were tempered that day.
Even
typing this now, tears come to my eyes.
I
learned at one point on the run that the athlete who crashed on Highway 36 had
died. Her name was Michelle Fields, and
she was racing in her first Ironman. It
sounded like a car had hit her.
Naturally, my reaction was one of sadness and anger. Angry at Ironman for allowing this to happen
on one of their courses. Anger at the
driver for being so careless. Anger at
myself for not doing more for her. I was
about 1-2 minutes behind her when she was hit.
While I stopped, along with some other athletes, I wish I could have
done more. I told T I wish I would have
held her hand. Told her that help was on
the way. Etc. The harsh reality is, there’s not much I
could have done other than some intangible actions that ultimately would not
have saved her life. It’s a terrible
truth, but I’ll still have to live with myself knowing that I didn’t show her a
bit of love in the final moments of her life.
I
did ask myself a bit during the race, and am still doing so, “Is this worth
it?” Is it worth riding on roads that
cars drive on without a care in the world?
Worth putting myself at risk and taking a chance? All it would take is a teenager texting or
checking up on social media, a parent checking on a kid in the backseat, or
someone who has a bit of rage, to end my life on the road. Is it worth it?
It
is. Here’s why: everything you do has
risk. From the moment you get out of bed
in the morning, life is risk. Low risk,
high risk, it doesn’t matter. Every day
you put yourself out there and when it’s your time, it’s your time. Spend too much time dwelling on what could
happen, and you’ll never do anything. I
am not as religious as I once was (although I’ve prayed more in the last two
months than I have in my entire life), but I do have faith that I have lived a
good life and will be okay in the afterlife, whatever it might be.
I
think that’s how we all need to live our lives.
Be good to each other. Take care
of your “house”. Work hard to live each
day with some purpose. Give back when
able. Most importantly, keep the dreams
alive. Believe It, Earn It, Raise It.
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