The swim start was nothing short of spectacular. For starters we were about to make history as the first ever time trial start Ironman. Secondly we were about to do what even few ironmen have done, and that is to swim an ironman course without a wetsuit. I think most of us embraced these two facts and even began to take a sense of pride in them.
I checked my watch, and hit my start button at approximately 7 minutes after 7
The swim upstream was tough but you knew you were to be rewarded at the turn around as we swam downstream. Shortly after the turn-around something strange happened. I kept sighting off to my left but it appeared as though I was not moving forward. I put my head down and swam hard for few moments only to sight again and confirm I was not moving ahead. I put my head down again and hammered the swim. This was certainly not in my plan at this point of the swim but I saw no alternative. I finally was able to break free of whatever swirl of current I was in. This happened to me 3 more times and each time I tucked my head and hammered for all I was worth.
By the end of the swim I was ready to be on dry land. Every long bike ride I had done prior to the Ironman was always the same, 10 miles of very easy warm up going slower than I believe necessary followed by a bathroom break around 20-25 miles. I followed the same routine as I started the bike and used the 1st 10 flat miles as a warm up. Even at the start of the bike I felt terribly fatigued, but I had never swam 2.4 miles in the Ohio river without a wetsuit prior to a long bike rider before so I gave myself time and just worked on getting my heart rate back under control.
At the 10 mile mark the hills began and my speed started to steadily decrees. At mile 25 of the bike I found myself tearing up as I realized that finishing under 17 hours was already going to be a challenge and at a point in the race where I should be finding my stride and enjoying the race I was already starting to struggle and my back was starting to really hurt. With the heat of day my goal was to take a bottle of water and Gatorade at each aid station. I kept nutrition right on plan and increased my electrolyte intake to accommodate the heat of the day.
At mile 30 I recognized that I had not had to go to the bathroom yet. Although a twinge of suspect nervousness crept into my thinking I decided at this point it was a plus in that I really had no time to stop anyway. Shortly out of LaGrange around the 40-50 mile mark I really started feeling bad. It was a sick feeling that I attributed to the heat. In attempts to keep the skin cool I applied sunscreen regularly. At aid stations I went started taking on an extra bottle of water. I drank a small portion and then poured the rest on me so that I could discard the bottle before leaving the aid station area. When I passed the half way point of the bike and had not gone to bathroom yet I knew that this was a concern.
Mile 75 I cried again. In part I am sure because I was tired, but mainly because I was in the middle of the greatest adventure of my life and I felt horrible. We train to deal with the pain, and although there was plenty of pain it was the feeling of being sick that made it hard. Along with feeling sick and sore my head was full with the constant math recognizing that with each mile finishing in under 17 hours seemed to get further away not closer. If for no other reason than course design I was able to gain a little bit of ground in the last 20 miles and was off my bike and started the run 10 hours after the start of the swim.
Coming out of the changing tent I stop by the bathroom for the first time of the day. I felt slightly light headed as I was finally able to go. I walked the first mile filling my hat with ice, and my shirt with wet sponges and drinking as much as I could in attempts to cool off before I attempted to run. 1 mile of walking, soon turned to 2. All day I knew making the cut off was going to be a challenge and if I did not attempt running soon it was going to get worse as the night wore on. As I found my land legs mile 3 was my first sad attempt at running. A few strides here and there was about all I could put together. At each mile aid station I took in every liquid I could get my hands on and at the end of mile 3 I stopped for my second time to pee. This time I went a lot and quickly tried to take in more fluid right after.
At this point I met up with a fellow St’er and we ran together for a bit. The road was split down the middle with cones so our strategy was to run to one cone, walk to the next and repeat. This was good in that it got me started running. I was on my first lap while he was on his 2nd. Although I needed the jump start going at someone else’s pace was not a good idea so I dropped off at the next aid station where I once again stopped to pee, a lot! This was pretty much how the next 10 miles went, walked a lot, ran when I could, took in every fluid I could at every aid station and stopped to pee way too much at every station. It was becoming easy to see that I was peeing out way more than I taking in and even without going the entire time on the bike I was going to run into deficit soon. I finally saw my wife at the turn around point before I head out for my second lap. I warned her it was very possible I would not finish in time. If I continued at the pace I was going I would not make it and I did not know how in the world I would ever get faster. She loudly protested, told me to not even let myself think that way and that I COULD do this! I wasn’t giving up but was just being realistic. But her words of encouragement propelled me on to my fastest 4 mile split of the night. Somewhere between miles 14-16 night fell as we donned on glow sticks around our necks. I continued on, one bite at a time, one cone at a time. I managed to run one cone and walk the next for much of the second half. It was the only part of my entire day that I passed people.
I constantly monitored my watch and around this time I switched away from my race counter which was clicking away minutes from the start of the race and turned my watch to time of day. I knew I started a little after 7:00 AM but my mind was fuzzy and was not to be trusted so I set my sight on midnight. It was a constant countdown at every mile marker of time remaining versus miles to go. I continued to go to the bathroom at every aid station but it became more and more difficult to stand up in the port-o-johns. I got very light headed and hung on the door handle once inside to prevent falling down. I knew I was getting very sick. At mile 20 I noticed my hand was bleeding. I have no idea from what but figured it must have happened in the last port-o-john. At this point I decided it was probably not safe to stop at the port-o-johns anymore. Not only did I no longer have the time remaining but I was terribly worried of ending my Ironman passed out in a port-o-john. I had no choice but to pee while running/walking. The amount of fluids I was losing became very disconcerting.
I am not sure at what point I was aware I would make the cutoff but there was no real joy in it. I knew I was sick and just wanted to make sure I was on the other side of the finish line when I stopped moving. And then I saw my wife, she was screaming, and cheering about ¼ mile up from the finish. She was on the phone with my parents who were back home monitoring my progress.
I knew what she had endured, not just with the months of training, but on this day particularly so I asked her if she wanted to join me across the finish line. She declined wanting this to be my big finishing photo. Plus of course she knew that those on Slowtwitch would get their collective panties in a wad. I checked my watch one last time: 11:45! Before entering the finishing chute I remember looking back to make sure there was no one behind me so as to not interfere with anyone else’s finish and there was no one. So I managed to get my hands above my head and enter the chute and the crowd was deafening. What was amazing is that I knew there was no one behind me so I knew all that noise was for me. It was very touching. After crossing the line I never heard my name but I had enough wits about me to stop them from putting the medal around my neck. I took the medal in my hands and told the volunteers I was in trouble but needed to find my wife first. She was on the side line past the finish with tears in her eyes and as is customary, the medal went around her neck… My Iron Wife!
They found me a wheel chair and took me to the medical tent. I again told the person there I was in trouble but he believed because I had not thrown up and was taking in fluids I would not need and IV and offered me a Gatorade and a chair. Shortly after sitting down I am told my eyes rolled back and I blacked out. When I was awoken I was being loaded into an ambulance and headed for the emergency room.
Once in the emergency room the numbers of concern were a body temperature of 93 degrees and a blood pressure of 79 over 58. I had obvious dehydration but the biggest concern was a diagnosis of Rhabdomyolysis which is the breakdown of muscle fibers resulting in the release of toxic muscle fibers into the bloodstream. IV’s in both arms attempted to rehydrated me as well as flush the toxins. My medical angel of the night was my emergency room nurse who stayed by my side 2 hours past her shift until I was taken to intensive care where I spent the night. The next day I was allowed to move to a regular room where I spent the next 24 hours. Special thanks to the head volunteer who called my wife to check on me and to make arrangements to get my bike and gear picked up and to Steve Meckfessel, RD who met my wife at transition when she picked up my bike to ask how I was.
At about 1:00 PM on Tuesday afternoon, I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, signing the hospital release papers, wearing for the first time my Ironman Finisher Shirt. I finally ended what turned out to be a very long day in Louisville.
