Fast forward to mid-2011. I am in endurance sports neck deep. I have dozens of races under my belt of all distances, mental toughness, and a support group of friends and family that rivals a small army. Every year I step up the training, increasing the distance and the intensity. I compete because of the camaraderie amongst my peers and also to inspire others that they can do great things if they just believe in themselves.
Everyone that races in an Ironman has a story. Some of my favorites are of Rick and Dick Hoyt, Sister Madonna Buder and Ricky James. If you have never heard of these people and want to be inspired, please take the time to look them up. My story is simple. I wanted to challenge myself beyond what I had ever imagined. When I first started to try and lose weight many years ago, completing a 5K was my goal. Then it became finishing a half marathon. Then it became a marathon. I wanted to keep challenging myself (mentally and physically), something I had never done before in my life. Growing up I was a pretty average athlete, but at this point in my life, I wanted to do something exceptional. Ironman was just that and much, much more.
The Race
Pre-Race
I knew the swim would be tough, considering I learned to ‘properly’ swim ~7 months prior to IMTX. After my swim at Lonestar 70.3 in April, I knew I needed to step up the training to not necessarily go faster, but to be more efficient. I wanted to come out of the water still able to have strong bike and run, something that did not happen in Galveston. That race left me completely exhausted after the swim, making for a long day on the bike and run.
I arrived at the swim start in plenty of time to relax and begin focusing on my race plan. Once we were shuttled into the water, I positioned myself near the docks, in the rear of the pack. I am extremely slow on the swim, so I thought there was no need to get caught up in the front of the pack.
Swim
My race plan for the swim was just to keep moving, and keep it efficient. I opted out of wearing a wetsuit, as the water was similar to a hot tub and I felt no need for it that day. The first 1.5 miles or so were pretty uneventful. I got kicked, swam over, bumped, etc. like many people do. The first left turn came and went with no problems and I still had ample time.
If you are familiar with the swim course, there is a right turn into the Waterway Canal, leaving you around 1000 meters left in the swim course. As I was making the turn, I was kicked in the face by what seemed like a sledgehammer. This knocked my goggles off, breaking the plastic piece between the two lenses. I tucked my goggles into my pocket in my shorts and kept moving. My method at this point was 5 strokes and sight, repeat x1000m. In what seemed like hours, I finally saw the exit for the swim and I saw that I had plenty of time left, which was a relief as I knew I took a long time to reach that point.
Swim - 2:05:44
Got into T1, got changed without issue. Saw an old friend from college in the changing tent that I had not seen in many years. We exchanged a few words and we went our separate ways and later caught up around mile 22 of the run.
T1 – 5:12
The first 40 miles of the bike were effortless, as they should have been. I think my bike training went extremely well given my limited cycling experience, so I thought the day would go smooth. During training, I had battled back problems, but just pushed through them and never gave them much thought. There will always be aches and pains when training for these kinds of races, so I never really thought of this back pain as something significant, as it always went away the next day.
I am not sure where on the bike course, but I think around mile 45 my back seized up. It is hard to describe, but it was a combination of a twist between the shoulder blades and a tense sensation in the lower back that radiated up my spine, resulting the inability to keep my head up in aero position or get somewhat comfortable. If I had to gauge the pain on a scale, this was easily a 9 or 9.5 and simply wasn’t something I was able to mentally block. When something like this comes up, it can drive you crazy as to what caused it and what you can do to resolve it, especially with 70+miles to ride.
As if this wasn’t hard enough to deal with, around mile 65, the day got a lot harder. I started to resemble Normann Stadler in Kona in 2007 on his bike leg. My body started to completely reject all nutrition. Gels, liquids, bars, etc., nothing would absorb it seemed. By the time I made it to the mile 80 station, I had to stop and assess the situation. It is not like me to stop and rest for a long time, but I had to try and do something at this point. I sat down for around 30 minutes (what seemed like hours) and did a check of everything going on with the mind and body. A kind volunteer placed a large bag of ice along my spine, which felt like heaven. This helped only for a few minutes, as it didn’t matter what position I was in, I was in extreme pain. Mentally I was fine and in good spirits despite knowing at this point I was taking much longer than I anticipated, but I knew I was still within a reasonable time to finish. I was finally able to get some calories down and I filled my bottles up and I left the station.
I got back on the bike and had to really dig deep once I was moving again and kept the pace slow to not overheat. The pain kept radiating up my spine and by the century mark, it was all over my body, similar to body aches from the flu. At this point in the race, the century mark, I am like many people and just want off the bike. Having been on the bike for 6.5 hours, I was ready to get on my feet, even if it meant I was still going to battle a painful back. The volunteers at this point in the race were great, knowing that we all were extremely hot and tired. I never once thought an aid station could have been better, because they all seemed to take a lot of pride in their given time, which made the race that much better for me.
My spirits were lifted when I saw my wife and other family members along the bike chute. After not seeing them for 6+ hours, it was a pleasant sight. My sister gave me some words of wisdom that stuck with me all day, ‘Adam you can do this. There is plenty of time.’
Bike - 7:02:21
I got into the tent and laid on the ground immediately. The volunteers thought I had a heart attack or something, but I just wanted to get horizontal for 2 minutes. The volunteers forced me to sit, instead of lay down, so I obliged against my will and began to put on my shoes. One of the volunteers offered to massage my back, but I said I was fine and just wanted ice on it while I got my shoes and socks on. I am pretty sure my body was radiating somewhere around 150 degrees at the time because I melted the bag of ice in no time. It was the hottest part of the day and I still had a marathon to run. Mentally, I was ready to go and so were my legs. I had trained hard for this run and I felt ready, despite the back. Or so I thought...
T2 – 12:41 (you would have thought I stopped for coffee and doughnuts)
I ran about 500 yards before I was bent over double in pain from my back. Every step I took, walking or running, made me want to just lay flat and even that hurt around an 8 on my pain scale. At this point in the day, I had roughly 7 hours to ‘run’ the marathon. It was a terrible feeling for me, even weeks after the race as I look back on it, to know that my legs were fresh but I was limited to walking because of a bad back. I know the initial goal is to finish for your first Ironman, but I am known amongst my peers as a runner, so to not run is hard to deal with from a mental standpoint. I was devastated before I even hit the first mile marker, but I just told myself to do what I can.
The plan of action for the remainder of the day was simple. Run to the next stop sign/stop light/aid station and then walk until the pain subsides in my back. I am not sure why I kept subjecting myself to this amount of pain. I felt as if I owed it my self to run what I could, and I am glad I did. I also kept reminding myself of what my sister said, ‘There is plenty of time.’
All three loops are one big blur, now that I look back. To be quite honest, the marathon was a giant blur from mile 1-mile 20. I met a lot of great people along the course, one of which was completing his 52nd Ironman at the age of 55 years old. I asked him what his secret was, and his only response was patience. Simple and effective.
The first lap was very hot and humid, with lots of runners hurled over from dehydration. I had always heard the stories of how bad people suffered with the heat and I now realize what they were talking about. I thought it was hot on the bike, but this was a new kind of heat. It was stuck on you and there was no escaping it.
The second lap was slightly more pleasant, in regards to the heat. The sun was going down and the aid stations were getting rowdy with music, dancing and lots of motivation. Just as I would finish up a walk/jog segment, I would have a volunteer patting me on the back telling me to keep moving. The best aid station hands down was station #3. It was like a giant block party once you made the south turn around the lake.
The third lap was a little lonely at times, since I was one of the last few hundred finishers. You were never totally alone, but it was pretty sparse. At this point in the race, I was reassuring myself I had plenty of time to finish, even if I walked the entire third lap. For a while, I felt bad for my family and friends, as they had been outside in the heat for many, many hours. I wanted to finish around 13 hours, and that is what they were counting on, so I felt bad for them. However, they are a strong support group and never complained. They all had fun, even my two nieces who stuck around well past their bedtimes to see me finish.
Walking a marathon is nothing I want to ever repeat. I wish I had a really cool story and say the pain subsided on the course and I was able to run the second half of the course, but that was hardly the case. From a mental standpoint, I was so disgruntled with not getting to run the marathon leg, I was just ready to be done. I wanted to hit my ‘wall’ around mile 22 of the marathon like I did in training and past races, but sadly, my wall was many hours before during another discipline.
I came onto the Waterway, seeing the family one last time before I met up with Mike Reilly at the finish line. My family was very encouraging and so excited to see me. I would be too after being a spectator for 12 hours.
Run – 6:09:33
The final hours of an Ironman are electric. The finish line is filled with people going out of their minds, cheering for complete strangers achieving a goal. Everyone’s story is different and is respected by all. It is a surreal experience to have that many people cheering for you. Maybe the feeling goes away with each time you finish an Ironman, but those few moments are something I will carry forever.
Later I would be asked by a coworker what moments stick with me most from races. That was my moment. Amongst thousands of people cheering, I had my loved ones there to see me achieve my goal and share that experience with me. I could not have done it without them, plain and simple.
Finish - 15:35:29
Post Race
It took me a few days to recover from the race and comfortably walk around. I was off on Sunday and Monday, but Tuesday came and I was back at my desk. Lots of people I work with left me notes on my desk with words of encouragement and congratulations, which means a lot since we spend so much time with each other at our jobs. I work with some exceptional athletes and so it was a real joy to discuss the race with them and gather their feedback on what I can do to improve.
Acknowledgments
First of all, I want to thank the volunteers. The signs, banners, shirts, and words of encouragement mean more than you know. Maybe you were inspired to run a 5K or compete in an Ironman someday.
Secondly, I want to thank my family. My ever supportive sister and loving parents, I could not have done this without you. The many sacrifices along the way have been grand, but were worth every one of them. I hope that me going on this journey inspired you to challenge yourself in your own life.
To my friends, there are too many to name, thank you. Each of you have taught me something that I didn’t know about myself and also pushed me to limits I didn’t know I could overcome. I hope that I inspire each of you as much as you inspire me. Special thanks to Cory, Rebecca, Sarah and Scott. Thank you for holding me accountable the last year and also training with me. It is always a pleasure to see you and go for a ride or run.
Finally, thanks to Lori, my loving wife. I am your number one fan, as you are mine. Soon enough, you too will be an Ironman, I know you can do it. I love you so much.
