Half of an Ironman, still just a normal man

Anybody that knows me knows that I may have a tendency to fall into routines rather easily. I am not exactly sure what makes people think this, perhaps it is because in the past I have periodically spent many months consuming the same meal for every breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner. Perhaps it is because I tend to have a schedule that consumes nearly every hour of the day, which I repeat week after week. Basically, all pretty normal and standard procedure. BUT, this past weekend I decided it might be a good weekend to change things up and do something a little different.

So, on Saturday I figured why not wake up at 4:15 AM, sit in a beachside bathroom for 3 hours, go for a swim, bike, then run all morning, then spend the rest of the day curled in a ball feeling like WWIII was in full swing inside my abdomen. Going to see a movie was the alternate plan for the day.

Ok, maybe this was not completely impulsive and there was a little premeditation to the plan, and my swim-bike-run may have actually been called the Steelhead 70.3 Half Ironman in Benton Harbor, Michigan (the plan sounded a lot more hip without all the official names, did it not?) I also may have been training for this day (I know, I sound a lot more boring now).

The day did start at 4:15. When my mom dropped me off at 5:15 (kind of like getting dropped off at school by your mom, but I got to bring my bike to this school) a steady sprinkle-rain began. For those unfamiliar with triathlon, you begin with a swim, then head into a “transition area” where you have your bike, bike equipment, and running equipment stored. After the swim you hop onto your bike, then head back into the transition area a second time to drop off your bike and get your running shoes on and head out for the final leg of the race, the run. The swim start was going off in “waves,” simply meaning groups of people were started instead of one single mass start of everyone. The pros started first at 7AM and I was “fortunate” enough to be in the second to last wave, starting at 8:42AM! Unfortunately, the transition area closed at 6:30, so I could not just roll over to the race at 8:30 and say, “Let’s do this!” I had to get there in the morning darkness, set up my bike and equipment then hang out for several hours. While that sounds awesome, what is not awesome is when it is raining all morning. But what is surprisingly awesome is hanging out in the bathroom for about 2.5 hours. Perhaps the whole “hanging out in the bathroom” deterred people from doing it, but we had a lot of room in there. I should note, there was a changing room half to the bathroom, so I was not giving people high fives as they left the john.

Around 8AM I headed down the beach for the start. This race hosted a point-to-point swim, which means you walk about 2k (1.2miles to be exact) down the beach, then swim in a straight shot back to the transition area. Not only was the water (Lake Michigan) incredibly clean and a comfortable 76degrees, but they also have you swim “down current” (a lake surprisingly has a noticeable current, I did not know that). This made for an awesomely fast swim, a great artificial confidence boost. The swim went well, I fortunately avoided the dreaded heel-to-my-face move (typically another person’s heel to your face. I guess it could be both your heel and your face, but you might be experiencing bigger problems in that situation). I hopped out of the water and headed up to the transition area with an awesome crowd enthusiastically cheering on the guy behind me (I think I might name my son "John Tom Mike Jim Tim Bob Guillermo," that way he has a pretty good chance of always being cheered by everyone in nearly every situation). Then, I was onto the bike.

There is not much exciting to say about the bike, except all the rules that I was nervous about accidentally breaking (drafting, blocking, passing too slowly, passing on the wrong side, not dropping back after being passed, etc) were pretty much immediately broken by everyone else. The greatest challenge on the bike was having to pee for about 2 of the 2.5 hours. Surprisingly, peeing while riding the bike is incredibly difficult. The last 20 miles I decided it was time to “take care of business” before I started my run. It was not a “stage-fright” thing, I was perfectly comfortable with the idea, I mean it was essentially water anyway. But all I was able to do was make myself feel like I had to go even worse. I did learn that I might achieve success while coasting, but the downhills were all too short and again all I did was get really close to success, then it was time to pedal again. Honestly, I respect professional cyclists so much now, the skill of peeing on the bike is a masterful technique. But, I digress…

Finally, I hopped off the bike, full bladder and all, and started the run. First 3-4 miles I was feeling great and amazed how well I was moving. Finally, I decided it was time to stop thinking about peeing and made a quick stop in the porta-potty, and was off again. The second half of the run I began to fade fast. My stomach began cramping. I was familiar with this treacherous dance. On one hand it was a ticking bomb, once stomach cramping began it would only get worse. If I pushed too hard, it would shut me down. I guess you might say, this was damage control mode. Despite a poor second half, I trucked across the finish line with a decent morning behind me. I even managed to show off a couple nice moves on the run: a spin move to avoid a volunteer, a spin move to grab a cup by a distracted volunteer, and a little shimmy-sidestep to avoid another volunteer.

Crossing the finish line I felt completely spent, so I knew it was a good effort. After chatting with a fellow competitor for a bit (I am so good at talking to strangers) I headed off to find my mom who was my awesome support crew for the weekend. As I got close to her, a reminder quickly hit me. It was my stomach saying, “Remember me? Now it is my turn.” From there, the next 10 hours quickly degraded into me being in terrible pain. I did the best I could to cope. While getting some post race food for my support crew (mom), I managed to avoid throwing up all over the spread of food. I could not pass up the opportunity to hit up Bell’s Brewery with the weak hope of feeling better. Unfortunately, a Two-Heated on home tap was beyond reality, I did manage to put on a happy face for a picture before returning to my curled up state. I have to say my mom was awesome for being my support crew and putting up with me being a big baby after the race…ok I was probably also a big baby the days leading up to the race as well. While I am certain it was not very exciting for her, the highlight of my weekend truly was having my own support crew cheering me on and sharing the experience with her!!

At the end of the day, I have to admit that I thought I would feel different after the race. Granted I did not expect to be in permanent fetal position post race, but I mean this metaphysically. I honestly thought it would change the way I looked at things, like there was some wisdom hidden within those 70.3 miles. Accordingly, there was a little bit of, “Is that all there is?” when I finished. Having chewed on it for a couple days, it seems foolish to think one mornings experience would make me feel different about the world. But, comparing myself today to myself before I started training for the event, that has been transformative. I think it is on par with waking up the next day after your wedding, looking at your new wife/husband and saying “Is that all there is to being married?” It is a ridiculous thing to say and think. So, I guess I would say Saturday was my graduation or my celebration for my transformative experience. I have learned a great deal about myself at those 8AM swim practices when I think drowning would definitely feel better than another set, or those early morning mile repeat sessions when I achieve dry-heaving on my second out of four repeats, or on my long runs when it is just me and my consciousness (yes, they are two different people, how else could I have all those conversations?) for several hours, and on the long rides where I have made friends, or, or, or, or all those other times. Becoming half of an ironman (or tinman as my bro calls it) really is about the process. It is funny, looking back on the weekend now, I wish I took more pictures of me with my mom and with inspiring people I met. Makes you realize how what you think is important can obscure what feels important later…WWIII in your abdomen also tends to obscure things. So it goes…

(On a side note: the half Ironman distances are: 1.2mile swim, 56mile bike, 13.1mile run, and a whole lot of fun!!)

(Pictures top to bottom: (1) Pre-race day swim photo shoot, drink it up ladies! (2) 5:30AM, bike racked, rain about to start (3) About to head out for the run, there's no smiling in triathlon! (4) Meters away from the finish, is that a smile or a grimace? (5) Bell's Brewery, is that a smile or a grimace?)