First and foremost I want to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to all those that supported me in this crazy adventure. The support of my loving family and friends is what helped me through some very challenging months leading up to this race. My wife, Marie, is truly an Ironwoman, as she had to spend the last year dealing with my blood, sweat, and tears (literally), a few tantrums, endless talk of better aero positions and weight savings which had her bored to tears. Additionally, she fed me some great, healthy meals along the way to keep me strong. She had every opportunity to quit as well, but literally was with me all the way through to the finish line. That is real commitment, and I very much love her for it!
Through the generous donations to the three causes I was fundraising for, we were able to raise $1,542 for Compassion International, $1,542 for Feeding America, and $1,804 for Alex's Lemonade Stand. That's almost $5,000 to charity. Even before the race began that is a big win. It goes to show that fundraising for worthy causes while improving oneself can be a win for everybody! Thank you to all those who donated to these causes.
And now on to race day.
The days leading up to the race were filled with lots of anxiety over the unknown and the uncontrollable. At that point I had already done everything I could from my end to control my race; trained as best as I could, ate as well as I could, set my expectations as best as I could. What I feared now was the weather, mechanical problems, and water temperature. Being that the temperature in the ocean was within one degree of being wetsuit legal, I was at risk of having to do something I've never done before - swimming 2.4 miles in rough ocean water without a wetsuit.
Fortunately, race morning came with water temperatures still wetsuit legal. This calmed my nerves a bit, but I was still about to embark on something I've never done before. What awaited me was 2.4 miles of ocean swim followed by 112 miles of constantly hilly and hot biking, and a marathon in the hot Mexican desert heat, none of which I have done in combination during one day.
Leading up to the race I heard nothing but horror stories from people who had raced this course the year before. Hot, windy, and hilly were all themes that I heard from people. 41% DNF rate the year before, and currents that would carry us all down to Cabo before the race was over. "For your first Ironman," one very fit participant in my age group informed me. "You sure picked the hardest course." I had relieved my expectations a bit, which was originally to shoot for a perfect race which would put me in the running for a Kona slot. Secondary (and more likely) was to finish between 10-11 hours, finishing the bike in sub 6 hours and the run in sub 4. I knew achieving even the secondary goal would be unlikely given the difficulty of the course. The challenge of the distance and the conditions was becoming a reality to me, and now I just wanted to finish.
Race morning I was up at 3:15 am to have breakfast, which consisted of oats, blueberries, a banana, and almond butter blended up for easy consumption. Before I knew it it was time to head out and catch the bus to Palmilla Beach at 5 am. The bus dropped us off at the top of the hill at Punta Palmilla, and we had to walk about a half mile to the transition area. We were essentially walking down the bike exit to the highway which was a climb to the highway. Once at the transition area, I got my numbers remarked. I had them originally marked the day before, but they faded. It's okay, because they told me that I'm remarkable (ha!). No, that joke didn't go over very well race morning either.
I checked out my bike one last time, inflated the tires, dropped of my special needs bags, and took a couple (yes, a couple) trips to the porta potty. Sunrise was absolutely beautiful that morning, and the conditions for the swim were absolutely perfect (as long as the wind stayed calm). I had plenty of time to jump in the ocean for a practice swim before the race start, which has been very important for me in the past to calm the nerves and get used to the feeling of swimming.
At this time I wasn't feeling to anxious. I thought I would be worried about having to use the bathroom once I had my wetsuit all the way on and the transition was closed. I thought I might be worried that I would panic in the water. I thought I might be worried about large fish joining us for a swim. However, none of this really concerned me at this point. As I stood in the corral waiting to get ushered onto the beach, my only concern was that I might get dehydrated on the swim. The rising sun was really starting to get warm now, and I could feel myself sweating in my wetsuit. I knew I would be in the water for about 1-1.5 hours and that was a long time to be exercising without water. I took some gatorade and hoped for the best. Finally we were let onto the beach for the swim start.
I positioned myself to the far right a couple rows back from the front. Enough back so that I wouldn't be pummeled by the aggressive swimmers in the front, but close enough that I could run into the ocean. I liked the right hand side for the start because it would offer a little more open water, and from my perspective a straighter route to the turn buoy without having to fight for space. My first thought as I looked across the beach was that the number of athletes looked pretty light. They kept saying there were 1200, but it only looked like a few hundred.
I remember standing there for a few minutes before the start of the race, but don't remember much about the start. Only running toward the ocean and then a flurry of bubbles and flailing of arms. As always, it took a while to get open space enough to focus on good stroke form. For the first few hundred yards to the turn buoy my intention was to save my energy and simply stay in the pack to utilize the man made current. Around the first buoy I finally had a chance to see where we were swimming to. I couldn't see another turn buoy, just a number of marker buoys off into the distance, so I just focused on getting to one buoy at a time. The swim felt very pleasant and easy, and I was able to draft off of a few people for the length of the swim. I even found myself leading a draft pack for a while.
2 kilometers into the swim we made the turn toward the beach and headed into the final stretch. Looking at my watch briefly here I could see that I was at about 36 minutes. Doing the math I was right on track of where i wanted to be. The last stretch was relatively uneventful, except for the very large crowd on the beach slowly getting larger and larger. Before long I was up on the beach, out of the water in 1:10. That was exactly where I wanted to be and I couldn't be more stoked.
The swim felt very fast and easy, and I would learn later that it was a fast swim for everyone. The pros were out of the water in under 50 minutes, and I was about middle of the pack for my age group, which was absolutely fine with me. 56th out of the water in my age group out of 116.
Swim time: 1:10, 59th/116 in 35-39
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/dashboard?cid=15042400
Transition from swim to bike was a tough experience. Immediately when I stood up from swimming, I could feel the cramps forming in my calves and I knew I had to slow down. I jogged up the beach a bit toward the tent and the effort definitely felt labored. Once into the tent, I got my wetsuit off, but then got a bit disoriented. I had a couple volunteers ready to help me, but I didn't really know what they could help me with. I got everything out of my swim to bike bag, put on my helmet, and then started putting on my shoes. Then I realized my feet were sandy and I didn't want to run in cycling shoes to my bike on uneven surface. So I aborted the putting on of the shoes and ran to my bike. I put my shoes on when I got to my bike, grabbed my bike and started running up the hill to the mounting area.
I mounted my bike without any trouble and started climbing toward the highway. Immediately, I looked at my heart rate and noticed it was way to high (it was in the low 160s, and I should not be exceeding 149). I shifted to the lowest gear to climb the hill and lower my heart rate, but to no avail. I was just too worked up, and the climbing gave me no opportunity to recover my heart rate. Nothing I could do about it, just adjust it when I get to the highway.
Unfortunately, once I got to the highway, I had no opportunity to recover, since there was another climb. No matter how low my gears, I couldn't bring my heart rate out of the 150s, and I was getting passed by other people starting their bike. I thought for sure my race was over at this point. I feared that going anaerobic this early in a long race would hurt me for sure in the long term. Once again I had to accept another thing I couldn't control. So I adjusted my race strategy. I allowed everyone to pass me and over exert themselves up the hill and make up time later on the bike. I would run the first lap very conservatively, taking in nutrition and making sure I was hydrated. I would take it slow and keep my heart rate in the 130s to condition myself back to fat-burning.
That strategy worked for the first outbound trip to Cabo San Lucas, and I maintained my position without getting passed, and without making any aggressive moves on anyone in front of me. I knew I could at least finish the race if I kept this pace, and if I felt good after about 20 miles I could pick up the pace and start gaining positions. Easy spinning up the hills, and fast descents down. A few miles before the turn around in Cabo, there is a gradual descent which provided a good opportunity to pick up speed. It was at this point that I began feeling comfortable passing some people while still keeping my perceived exertion low.
On the way back to San Jose, there was mostly a crosswind with occasional tailwind, which was very helpful up the hills. However, I could really begin to feel the heat as I kept pace with the 10 mph wind up the hill (thus feeling no breeze at all). But then the downhills came, and they were a blast. People said this was a constantly hilly course, and it certainly didn't disappoint. I was actually worried about this at first, but during the race I felt great and was having a blast on the course. It was a beautiful day, I was feeling good, and I was doing a coastal bike ride with no traffic! Speaking of which, some of the most serene times came when I could see nobody in front of me. It felt like I had the whole road to myself which was just awesome.
The next two laps I passed a number of people. I ended up gaining 32 spots total on the bike ride putting me in 27th place in my age group once the bike was done. My nutrition plan worked out perfectly. I had a bottle of glucose and salt in my seat tube cage, and a bottle of water in my aero bars. I discarded the aero bottle at each aid station and grabbed another. My second bottle of sugary goodness was waiting for me at special needs, along with a spray can of sunscreen and some Butt'r, if it was needed. I decided against using the Butt'r, much to the delight of the volunteer staff.
The third lap the wind started to pick up, and it was blowing around 15 mph in exposed areas. My bike handled very well in these conditions, and the tailwind really made the third trip back to San Jose a breeze (ha! - Yes, I will remind you every time you need to laugh at one of my sorry attempts at a joke). Looking at my watch, I could see that I was going to succeed with my goal of doing the bike in under 6 hours.
Getting back into San Jose is loads of fun. After climbing the hill back to Palmilla beach, there is a really fast descent which takes you to just above sea level and then ascends a low grade hill with a left turn. It's very scenic and very fast. It reminds me of what James Bond would feel like racing his Aston Martin along the cliffs of Monte Carlo. On the descent I got up to about 40 mph and was able to maintain the high 20's around the curve. So much fun!
Back into town, we took a right turn into the downtown area toward transition which was a gradual descent. I was heading in really hot, and I could see how, if you weren't paying attention, you could go flying through the transition Wyle E. Cayote style. Fortunately there weren't any Adam shaped holes in the transition tent this time around and I was able to do a graceful dismount into T2.
Bike Time: 5:34, moved up to 27th/116
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/471417801
Transition went very well. I had two excellent volunteers helping me, handing me water, putting sunscreen on me, putting all my bike gear into my bag. I just put my shoes on, fuel belt, and hat, and off I went. Once again it was tough to settle into my heart rate zone. I didn't want to exceed 149 on the first half of the run, but it was sticking at just about 150. At a certain point in the first lap I decided that it was close enough and just went with it.
The one way I would describe this run would be hot. But I was expecting that. I had trained many months with extra layers on to mimic the heat of Los Cabos. It seemed to be paying off in the first part of the run. For the first 9 miles of the run I was running in the low 8 minute miles. I was ideally hoping that I could be in the high 7's, but I was okay given the heat, and I saw everyone else on the course suffering as well. A lot of the spectators were cheering me on, saying that I was looking strong. I certainly didn't feel strong. Right off the bike I had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I was about to run a full marathon.
One of the awesome things about this Ironman experience was the ability to run along side some of the pros in the field. I watched Matthew Russell pass me on the other side of the road on his way to taking 6th place. I also paced Lindsey Corbin for about a half mile on her third lap (my second) on her way to winning the race.
A couple of tough parts about the race. We were told during the pre-race meeting that we would be getting bags of water on the run course, which sounds odd but is actually good because you can easily break it open while you're running and drink it (unlike cups which are very difficult to drink while running). Unfortunately, they 86'd the bags and went with cups. This meant more frequent stops to drink the water instead of inhaling it. Second, and more of a psychological issue, was the layout of the run. The run was a three loop course around a small town which ended right in the middle of town. To make sure they fit in all 26.2 miles, we had to zigzag our way around the little town, meanwhile hearing the cheers at the finish line as each person was called an Ironman. We had a turnaround to take right at the finish line, which was mentally tough to d o.
Around the second lap I began to fall apart a little. I noticed that I had lost one of my nutrition bottles. I was also having trouble, as my legs just didn't want to cooperate. I was no longer having trouble keeping my heart rate down, but instead I was having trouble keeping my strength up. Additionally, I was beginning to have some stomach cramping. I tried to take in a lot of salt to break it down, but it wasn't working too well. I had to walk every aid station to get some water, but I was still able to do most of my miles under 9 minutes. It was during the second lap that I really started to do math to see what it would take to finish under 11 hours. I knew I wasn't having a perfect day, so I wouldn't be Kona-bound. Additionally, at that time of the day my math was very poor. I couldn't figure out how long it would take me to finish 10 miles, or what time it was, and I certainly didn't trust myself. It began to get quite demoralizing.
During the final turnaround into lap 3 I started to feel my stomach drop out of me. I think my body had had enough at that point. I hit the porta potty and, leaving the gory details aside, I stayed in there a few minutes. The worst part is, when it's hot outside, it's really
hot inside a porta potty. Add onto it that that porta potty had been used by many other people before me and you get a pretty poor combination. I began to feel pretty light headed in there. I remember thinking to myself "please do not let me pass out in here. Do not let them find me like this!" But, I made it through, determined to run the last 8 miles as strong as I could.
I began giving myself little milestones to help me get to the end. One more trip around the Mega store and I saw the 20 mile sign. "One more 10K and then I'm home". Running up to the bridge toward the marina, "one more trip around the harbor, and then I'm on my way back over the bridge". "One more out and back along this street and then I can turn in toward the finish line."
As I crossed over the bridge I was reminded of the great sportsmanship and comradery which exists in these competitions. A woman in a 50+ age group who I had been riding with during the bike and now finally caught up to on the run said to me "you look like you're about to finish too." I said that I was and told her congrats. She said that I was about to post a great time for a first time Ironman. She went on to win her age group and is now on her way to Hawaii in October.
Making the last turn, a young kid, no more than two years old, was holding his hand out for a high five from the athletes passing by. I willingly abided and it seemed to have made his day. I saw the finisher's chute which had taunted me for the last two laps and finally took a trip through. As the spectators realized I was not going out for another loop, they stuck their hands out enthusiastically and I high fived the hell out of everyone on the way to the finish line. As I approached, I heard the announcers say something but I couldn't make it out. I'm sure it was along the lines of "you are an Ironman!", since that was the theme of the day. No matter, I raised my arms up and gave a furious fist pump and let out an awkward yell, which sounded like a seagull landing on a sea lion. I had made it.
Immediately I looked up to the clock above the finish line which looked like it was being reset. Then it reset to 10:45. I turned to one of the officials, who may or may not have understood my labored English at that point. "Is that clock accurate to the gun time?"
"Is almost." was his response. Gotta love being lost in translation.
It was the official time, and I had done it. A little over a year ago I couldn't run much more than a few miles, had never rode a triathlon bike, and could not swim more than a couple hundred yards in a pool. A year later I completed one of the hardest Ironman races in under 11 hours. It's amazing what is possible with the right attitude, a little humility, and determination. I am absolutely stoked!
Run Time: 3:52, Moved into 18th/116 in the 35-39 age group
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/471417804
I wasn't expecting that I would feel cold immediately following the race, especially in this heat, but I was shivering like crazy. I was also nauseous, hungry, and overjoyed. I downed some pizza they had available after the race and hoped it didn't come right back up. Fortunately it didn't. After I started feeling better, we began walking back to the hotel, and it was amazing the outpouring of support we had. One woman came up to me in tears saying how inspirational it was to see the finishers come through. Many people were out offering their congratulations. It really made me appreciate why I wanted to do this. I found something I'm passionate about.
When I was in college, I used to watch a show on the Travel Channel (back when the Travel Channel was about "travel" and not just extreme gluttony) about a guy named Albey Mangels, who dropped everything and just went adventuring. He traveled the world on a whim, and learned a great deal about people, cultures, and himself. During that time I wanted to be Alby Mangels. I wanted to be able to just drop everything and find my passion. Instead I just kept making excuses, delaying, and drinking. Partying became my priority instead.
Of course now I'm not leaving my life behind and going on an endless safari with an empty wallet and a mind full of dreams. Like Alby, I've discovered something I'm passionate about, and I went after it. My story shows that with the right kind of motivation, you can find the time to follow your heart. While I'm not in the Kalahari desert being chased by Rhinos like Mr. Mangels, I'm on my own safari, and it's a great adventure. I would encourage anyone to take their own safari. The time is there, the means are there. Just do it! Win or lose you'll be glad you did.
So what's next? Well, there's still Kona. I probably won't be able to make it in this year when I do Ironman Boulder, but who knows? According to the results of this race, the last qualifier in my age group was about 10% faster than I was. That means that I will have to improve 10% in order to be in the running for a Kona slot. Is that possible? Absolutely! The last 10% is always the hardest, but I came a long way in a year. I can sure make time to improve by 10%. Just to be safe, I'll improve by 15%. Keep on adventuring.