I am an Ironman. Again. A year of training and an Ironman race finish is grounds for a report. So here it is. I wrote a report after my finish in 2013, which was my first Ironman. That report is here. At that time I was still pretty new to everything, and the IM distances were a huge challenge. In 2014 I did little training as I got married, bought a house, and we got a puppy that quickly grew to 75 lbs. I decided to get back into triathlon in the fall with encouragement from my wife, and I signed up for IMWI 2015.

My bike training went really well through the winter. I used the TrainerRoad software in combination with Sufferfest videos to put together a pretty solid program. Swimming went well too. I would wake up early and swim at 5 am 4 days per week, until spring when I dropped down to 3 days. I didn’t start running until after the new year, gradually increasing my treadmill use until it was safe to get outside without snow/ice. I did have an Achilles problem in February that surfaced after a speed workout on the treadmill. I rested for a month and was fine, but avoided speed work after that. By mid-June I was running around 40 miles per week. I would do a 13 mile hill run on the black loop at Lapham Peak one day (that’s a very HILLY run), then do another 13 to 15 mile run two days later—either flat or with moderate hills based from Lapham Peak again. A third staple of each week was a higher paced 6 mile hill loop at Lapham Peak. I mention all this because I developed an Achilles injury later in June (likely due to the volume of hill running I was doing), which resulted in very little running the rest of the summer. I did the Racine 70.3 in July, which was my first run since June. I did a couple short races in the weeks after that, but otherwise kept my running to a minimum. By early August I saw no point in trying to increase my run training for IMWI. I preferred to show up hoping to be able to run, rather than show up knowing that I couldn’t.

Running a marathon without training isn’t a good idea, but we don’t always get to train the way we’d like. I’ve learned it’s best to avoid worrying about lost training, and embrace the cards I’ve been dealt. We all have challenges that surface during the course of training for an Ironman. I’ve paid attention long enough to realize that most people’s training issues are far less of a problem than their anxiety. I came down with a bad cold during race week. Certainly not what I wanted, but it was yet another sobering experience to learn from. I’ll certainly have greater appreciation in the future for good health. I’m satisfied with how I mentally handled my Achilles issue, and being sick leading into race day. In the end, I overcame and did not further injure myself.

Swim:

I entered the water about 6:45 am. I had new goggles, of the same brand and model I’d been using for 2 years. In 2013, I over-tightened my goggles, which caused me significant pain during the 2nd half of the swim. This time around I kept them looser, knowing that I’d need to protect my face from flying hands and feet. I got a warm-up swim in by swimming my way out to the buoy line. The PC athletes started at 6:50, and I started getting myself into position. I’d given a lot of thought to where I wanted to place myself, and decided on the same strategy I had in 2013 which was to line up near the back of the pack right on the buoy line. It’s not as crowded as you might think, until reaching the first turn. In the quiet moments before the melee was to begin, my thoughts turned to prayer for the safety of all the other athletes and myself that day. I prayed also for peace of mind in whatever outcome each athlete experienced. There is a verse from the bible that I’ve turned to over and over the past several years when training or racing. It’s not one typical of athletes, but it’s what reminds me of why I race and who is ultimately in control of my day. I prayed Psalm 25, “O Lord, unto you I lift up my life.”

The cannon boomed, and I held tight. Treading lightly until there was ample space ahead of me, I finally surged forward. This experience was nothing like 2013. The water was calm and I was strong enough to hold my own—even strong enough to push back. The stretch to the first turn buoy was fast. I literally touched every buoy with my hand as I swam past. I swam smart and aggressive. Where I may have shied away in 2013, I surged into slipstreams and embraced the contact with other swimmers. I knew if I could stay with the pack, I’d finish faster than 2 years prior. A number of people ahead of me were swimming zig zags, and when they’d cross my path, I’d climb right over top. I used to be the one causing those problems, but no more.

The first turn was madness. I had to fight back inside the buoy, then hold my line around the corner. It went well, mostly I believe because I was prepared, I was aggressive, and I did not overexert myself. The next stretch may have been short, but it was the worst of the course. I had trouble seeing with the sun directly in my eyes. Setting an initial bearing was impossible for me, so I had to follow other swimmers. I could eventually see that our pack of swimmers was going waaay wide, so I worked my way back inside. Turn 2 was easier than 1, which I think was helped by the fact that so many swimmers couldn’t see well and had gone way wide of the turn.

The back stretch is where I fell apart in 2013. I knew I had to find the buoy line, swim a straight course, and find a slipstream if I wanted to do well. I managed to do all 3 of these things for the majority of the back stretch. Finding the right feet to follow was difficult. Swimmers had spread out, which is nice for keeping calm but not nice for energy efficiency. I’d get on a good swimmer for a bit, then perhaps get bumped by a rogue swimmer and lose my draft. Sometimes I’d end up passing a slower group, and pulling them for a change. Overall, I had a good slipstream for probably 50% of the stretch. Much better than how I handled 2013.

Turn 3 was uneventful, as was turn 4. The home stretch was longer than I remembered, but I was also stronger. In 2013, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of the water. This time I felt like I could do another lap. I even picked up my pace in the last 200 yards. I reached the crowd and felt like I was Michael Phelps. I didn’t know what my swim time was coming out of the water, but I felt good and knew that meant I’d succeeded. I estimated to my family that I would swim about 1:20. I ended up swimming 1:16:15, which was 22:32 faster than 2013. The important part was that I came out feeling energetic.

T1:

Transition 1 was a piece of cake. The transition is something like a half mile long, so it takes some time. I started running up from the water, pulling the upper half of my wetsuit off as I ran. I found a volunteer and had my wetsuit pulled off. Grabbed my things and bounded up the helix. As I approached top of the terrace I heard my family blowing on duck calls in the crowd. There may have been a goose call as well—I can’t recall anymore. If anyone was hearing waterfowl throughout the day, it was likely my family. They’re the best  In the change room I took my time to first dry off with a towel. It was a pretty chilly morning in the upper 40’s so I had been dreading the bike start. It actually felt nice coming up the helix, so I decided against wearing anything extra beyond my tri suit. I hadn’t swam in my tri top, so I put that on, put my socks on, helmet & sweatband on, then ran out with my shoes in hand. Got some sunscreen as I exited the building, then proceeded to my bike. The person whose bike was next to mine had done something I’d never seen before. They had several cliff bars taken out of the wrappers and just plastered to the top tube of the bike. Nothing else holding them on, just smooshed so that they conformed to the top tube and adhered with their own gooiness. Weird. Got my bike off the rack, then ran nearly to the end of transition where I had a volunteer hold my bike while I put my shoes on. Then I ran my bike to the mountain lion and rolled away down the helix, smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

Bike:

I love the bike portion of any race. I don’t have the endurance that I wish I had (it’ll come eventually), but I’ve made significant gains. It’s fun being on a bike, and it’s exhilarating to pass people. Due to the logistics of the first few miles of the course, the riding is very slow and much of it is no passing. I’d been there before though, so I just smiled and relaxed. When we finally reached some open road, I made a concerted effort to go easy. In 2013 I had made a huge mistake by letting my frustration out at this point and it came back to bite me later on. I paid close attention to my power meter, making sure I was in the 200-220 W range, and up to 260 W on the steeper climbs of the stick. I followed the plan and still passed more people than I could keep track of. Maybe 5 miles into the course, I saw a rider on the wrong side of the road—not just a little, he was nearly in the opposite ditch. He was swerving and obviously not doing well. He swerved back to the middle of the road as I approached, and I asked if he was okay. He said his eye got scratched during the swim and he couldn’t see. I felt bad for the guy. I hope he managed to survive the bike. He must’ve really gotten into a scuffle in the water to end up with a scratched eye.

What was I doing for nutrition? I had 2 bottles of fluid with me at the start. One was a disposable 24oz bottle I had saved (an old Gatorade Endurance bottle) and filled with 300 calories worth of Infinit Go Far. My other bottle was a normal 24oz biking bottle that I filled with 1000 calories of Infinit Go Far. My plan was to drink 300 calories per hour, and about 30 oz of fluid total per hour. The 300 calorie bottle was to be downed first, then pitched. From there, I’d use the 1000 calorie bottle (the goal was to down ¼ of it per hour starting after the 300 cal bottle was done) and supplement from the water and Gatorade Endurance available at the aid stations. In addition, my plan was to alternate between water and Gatorade at each aid station. I started by picking up water as soon as I finished my 300 cal bottle, and alternated from there. Based on the timing and distance between aid stations, the amount of fluid I was drinking and calories consumed would work out to about 30 oz and 300 cal per hour. I knew I would also need to supplement salt with this plan, so I had BASE salts and used every 5 to 10 miles.

It’s not necessary to spell out all the details of the race. I started with around 950 people in front of me, and finished with only 213 still ahead. The spectators were incredible. Old Sauk, Timber Lane, and Midtown were just as crazy as I remembered. Hundreds of spectators on each hill, with music and absolute craziness. The crowds would squeeze in from each side, leaving a narrow tunnel for the riders to come through, usually in their lowest gearing fighting to make it up the hills. I had a goal of holding back on the hills, unlike 2013. I did well, and generally spun up the hills between 250 and 280 watts. Through the first loop I was averaging 21 mph, and averaging about 210 W, normalized power. My family was having fun spectating in Verona, and I’d hear their duck calls when I passed by. My wife and her dad were bumming around on the course, so I’d see them unexpectedly here and there. All great moments that lift the spirit.

The 2nd loop was more of the same. One of the spectators at Old Sauk was dressed in a creepy clown suit and was standing off the road in the ditch, sort of in the tree line. He was beckoning riders with his hand to come join him. He might’ve had candy or something. It was one of the creepiest and also funniest things I’ve seen. I had some major cramps inside my thighs just before hitting Old Sauk the 2nd time. Not sure how I manage to get them in both legs at the same time, but I do. I had more cramps over the next 30 miles or so, which was a bummer. I did also have some trouble with keeping my fluids down. I think I had gotten too many calories in my stomach at some point (I had gotten behind and tried to catch up by taking some extra gulps), and it caused some GI issues. Perhaps that also led to my cramping. Based on where my cramping began and how it impacted the rest of my ride, I’d say it cost me 15 minutes, which wasn’t the end of the world.

Riding the stick back into Madison was downwind and I took advantage to stretch a bit. During the single file stretch, the rider in front of me took a wrong turn and I followed of course. We quickly realized and had to backtrack. The Monona Terrace finally came back into sight. By that point my average speed had dropped to 20.1, and my normalized power to 196 W. Final push up the helix and down to the crowd. I unclipped a foot, hit the brakes, dismounted, grabbed my gps, and thanked the volunteer. Off I ran. Bike split was 5:34:53.

T2:

In most triathlon races I zip through transitions pretty quickly. That wasn’t the goal here. I took my time, but there just isn’t a whole lot to do during T2… A volunteer had my bag ready for me, and off to the change room I went. It was fairly busy. I found a chair and sat. My helmet and glasses came off, bike shoes off. Slipped my running shoes on, and grabbed my race belt and baggie that had my watch and BASE Salts. As I ran out of the room, I clipped my belt around my waist. As I exited the building, I decided to use the porta-potties to pee. I then ran out of transition onto the run course. In 2013 this was a moment of great joy and hopeful expectation. This time it was more a feeling of fear and dread. The last 3 months of no run training were about to put up quite a challenge, and I knew it.

Run:

The run was a story of suffering. I started the run feeling a bit dehydrated and with an upset stomach. I should’ve taken in more fluids on the bike, and perhaps portioned my calories more evenly. I had confidence I’d be able to correct it within the first hour, and I did. I couldn’t, however, overcome my lack of training. It just meant things were slow and difficult. I ran between each aid station, then walked through the buffet line, taking whatever I needed. The most common things I’d have at each station were coca cola, ice, water, cold sponge, & Gatorade. I also had my BASE salts and periodically grabbed a gu. I ran the first mile in 8 minutes. The next was 9, which eventually became 10, then 11. During the first loop, I contemplated all the excuses for why I could quit. I wasn’t in a good place mentally. I thought the halfway point was the best place to quit, since I’d be close to transition. But coming around the capitol I found my family again cheering for me, and some unexpected friends who’d shown up. I couldn’t stop anymore. Rounding the corner to start the 2nd lap was a mental war. I was only halfway done with the run, but couldn’t imagine feeling worse. How could I possibly finish…

I continued running upwards of 11 minute miles, slowly chugging along, walking the aid stations, hoping people thought it was sweat dripping down my face and not tears. When I saw Chelsea at mile 14, I asked if she had my inhaler. My breathing had been difficult, as it usually is following a cold. She didn’t have it, though I’m not sure it would’ve helped. I finally broke a 12 minute mile during mile 19. I was demoralized. In the back of my mind, I knew I had no hope of beating my time from 2013. No hope is a bad thing to have. Just after mile 20 along the secluded lakeshore path I overheard a phone conversation of a guy walking along the trail. He told his listener that it was about 5:40 pm… What! I only have 6 miles to go, and it’s only 5:40? I suddenly realized I had a chance at beating my time from 2013, but I’d have to pick things up. I knew a 10 minute mile average would get me there. Suddenly I was off like a rocket, passing people in a steady stream. I glanced at my watch, and I was running just over a 9 minute pace. I was hurting worse than before, but I had hope. I had hope.

Shortly after my resurgence I was passed by a guy running about a 9 minute pace. I got right on his heels and fell in step. I knew with a 9 minute pace I would be able to walk the aid stations yet and still maintain a 10 minute average. I lost my rabbit after walking the next aid station, but I no longer needed him. I had confidence in myself with only 5 miles to go. Mile 21 was 9:54, mile 22 was 9:38, then 23 was 9:45. With 3 miles to go my legs were on fire but my drive was renewed. I knew I could outlast the course. The next miles I ran a 9:31, then 9:29. I’d been passing people steadily for 5 miles now—most of whom had passed me at some point earlier. With a mile to go, I felt a wave of emotion overcome me. It was a familiar feeling—something I experienced here in 2013. This was it.

Mile 26 was a cool 9:14 as I pushed my limits coming up to the Capitol. No stopping at the last aid station, but I did grab a sponge to soak my face. The water would mask my tears. My gait strengthened through the last corners. The energy of the crowd was magnificent and palpable. Hands sprung out for high fives as I heard my name being shouted. My tears weren’t of pain any longer. The support I had was unbelievable—all the volunteers, the crowds, my family and friends—all there to help me reach that finish line. It meant so much, and I was finally there. I thanked God as I rounded the final corner, into the finishing chute. One of the most gratifying moments of my race in 2013 was high fiving a few random strangers in my final strides to the finish. This time around I stuck my hand out and just ran. Hands shot up in front of me with every step—high fives never felt so good. The crowd was cheering and music was playing. At last, the finish line. I threw my fist in the air as I crossed the line. The clock read 11:38:51, a 20 minute PR. The 2nd half split of my marathon ended up being within 1 minute of my first half.

Post-Race:

The volunteers at the finish did an awesome job of making sure I was okay and getting me on my way safely to the exit. When they asked if I needed anything, I asked if they had any chocolate milk. They probably thought I was crazy and needed medical attention after I said that, but in 2013 there was chocolate milk at the finish and it was amazing. They had no chocolate milk this time. I got my finish photo and made my way to the exit where my family and friends were all waiting to see me. My wife wrapped me in her arms and gave me a great big kiss. I am truly blessed.