Eating cake at the Ironman WI finish line with my cousin, Holly.
More pics to come...
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Daddy Takes Over the Blog - Ironman Race Report
When I first sat down to reflect upon a ten hour stretch of time for which I had prepared over the last nine months, I intended on doing a complete minute by minute assessment of the day’s events followed by some aknowledgements and call it a day. However, I realized there are far too many things to recount and far too many people to thank, so I decided to focus on what I think is the most important part of Ironman, the people. After all, I hardly think it would mean nearly as much if we just went out on our own and did this in a vacuum. As much as Ironman is a journey of self discovery, I also think it is an amazing way to connect with those around us on a level we may never have never otherwise considered.
The day started almost as if it were any other day. Amie had gotten up a few times in the middle of the night because Alison was a bit freaked out in the hotel room while I just rolled over and tried to go back to sleep despite the anxiety of a pre-IM night. As I left, Ali was finally sleeping like a rock and looked so cute that it tore me apart to leave. Despite dire predictions for cold rain all day, we were greeted by glimmering sunshine over Lake Monona and the Monona Terrace that would last all day. My first “personal” encounter of the day was when one statement of Mike Reilly’s stood out above the rest. The last thing he said before the gun went off was: “Of all the things you can not control out there today, the one thing you can control is your attitude.” From that point on, I kept repeating that phrase in my head and remembered to just be happy.
The swim was the swim, bodies everywhere, truly a mad house. I came out with a 2 minute PR and felt the day was on. Before I could even comprehend my performance though, 2 huge dudes grabbed me and pulled off my suit and I was off! As it turns out, that was just the first example of the exemplary volunteers that worked that course. On the way up the “Helix” I saw my dad, step dad, mom, wife, daughter, niece and a few other friends, and that’s the way it was all day.
Seeing all those friendly faces helped me fly though the early parts of the bike feeling as if it were effortless. The thought at IM WI was always to “respect the course,” and I can honestly say I did, spinning each hill as if the sets of rollers were one long climb. Clearly the bike course aid station captains were teaching the others the art of the bottle pass. Several times I heard volunteers lauding others for a “great pass.” How awesome is that, people getting pumped over a bottle pass!
Just when I started to feel like my legs were working a bit after clearing the top of Old Sauk Pass, “Bitch Hill” started and I saw my brother-in-law and wife waving signs and going crazy with the other nut balls that formed the wall of people creating a Tour de France atmosphere at the top of the hill. Knowing they were there waiting for me on the second loop, and knowing everyone back home would be checking splits on line kept me from floundering too badly into the 20 mph headwind that picked up on the first half of the second loop. If it hadn’t been for seeing my coach’s husband, Todd, riding back to town, I may have totally lost it. A little tailwind, a few shouts from Terry Labinski and a brief moment of three guys from Portland, including myself and Mark Kendall, riding in a line, brought me back to the Terrace in style, up the Helix again and off on the run. I hate to beat a dead horse, but the guy who helped me in transition rocked and got me on the road again.
I’m not sure I’ve tackled anything that is tougher mentally than the start of an Ironman marathon. I mean, you just rode 112 miles, the whole time trying to focus on pace and nutrition so you can run, so not only are you physically tired, but mentally it is draining. After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it off the capital square and heard Heather Haviland’s voice on State St. above the crowd. Once again, it was going to be the people that have helped me in so many ways during all my years of training that were going to help me get through the torture chamber that is an IM marathon.
Things started to click by mile 3 where Terry and Grace Labinski were cheering hard at the gates of Camp Randal. A couple miles later, it was up over Observatory hill and on to State St. passing the Headhunter aid station and entering what felt like a triathlon stadium with all the folks lining the street. That stretch was also highlighted by my wife holding my daughter above the crowd, my Aunt Nancy, cousin Ken and his sons Dane and Ryan at Bascom Hill, and my mom (holding my niece Holly) and her husband Sean leading cheers on State Street. My dad, though, couldn’t have been at a better spot. Despite feeling as if I was running well, 5 guys, all in my age group passed me in a 1200-meter stretch just after mile 8, but my dad kept me going. All I could do was shrug and keep moving.
Before I knew it I was back at Camp Randal, Terry and Grace were still yelling, and I got my first glimpse of Aimee smiling on the run. Following closely behind were Heather and Jen from my Ironheads team. Heading back towards the capital I saw my coach Lauren was in fourth overall, and as is her usual custom, she was stone cold focused. Amie’s dad and his wife Vickie, as well as the shouting Heather Haviland, got me back up and down the capital square hill and onto the final loop of the day. Suffice it to say, it was a struggle. The first 5 miles were OK, and I even saw my brother for the first time about mile 18 (of course he was close to mile 21 at that point) and I was starting to believe I could get close to that 10-hour barrier. Once I got up over Observatory hill though, it was hard to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. If it hadn’t been for all the people I had supporting me and Craig Lanza pushing me from close behind, the 10:15 I eventually did accomplish would not have happened.
Finally, with the finish line in site, I mustered as much speed as I could (about an 8 minute pace) and followed 56 year-old Jim Bruskewitz across the line as he set his age group record (formerly owned by Joe Bonnes) by 30 minutes. Waiting for me was the whole crew including some faces I had not seen all day (Molly, Bonnie, Gil, Frank and Alyssa Alvarez, and of course Hubie and Warren). Also waiting there was Alison’s birthday cake (she turned one on race day) and an ensuing birthday party.
Not qualifying for Kona was a big disappointment, but after reflecting on the day, I feel truly blessed to have had such an uplifting experience, and most importantly, sharing that experience with so many outstanding people, on and off the course. After all, I really think that is what triathlon is all about, a way to bring us all together through fitness and love of sport. Congratulations to all that finished, and a huge thank-you to all of those who made it possible.
The day started almost as if it were any other day. Amie had gotten up a few times in the middle of the night because Alison was a bit freaked out in the hotel room while I just rolled over and tried to go back to sleep despite the anxiety of a pre-IM night. As I left, Ali was finally sleeping like a rock and looked so cute that it tore me apart to leave. Despite dire predictions for cold rain all day, we were greeted by glimmering sunshine over Lake Monona and the Monona Terrace that would last all day. My first “personal” encounter of the day was when one statement of Mike Reilly’s stood out above the rest. The last thing he said before the gun went off was: “Of all the things you can not control out there today, the one thing you can control is your attitude.” From that point on, I kept repeating that phrase in my head and remembered to just be happy.
The swim was the swim, bodies everywhere, truly a mad house. I came out with a 2 minute PR and felt the day was on. Before I could even comprehend my performance though, 2 huge dudes grabbed me and pulled off my suit and I was off! As it turns out, that was just the first example of the exemplary volunteers that worked that course. On the way up the “Helix” I saw my dad, step dad, mom, wife, daughter, niece and a few other friends, and that’s the way it was all day.
Seeing all those friendly faces helped me fly though the early parts of the bike feeling as if it were effortless. The thought at IM WI was always to “respect the course,” and I can honestly say I did, spinning each hill as if the sets of rollers were one long climb. Clearly the bike course aid station captains were teaching the others the art of the bottle pass. Several times I heard volunteers lauding others for a “great pass.” How awesome is that, people getting pumped over a bottle pass!
Just when I started to feel like my legs were working a bit after clearing the top of Old Sauk Pass, “Bitch Hill” started and I saw my brother-in-law and wife waving signs and going crazy with the other nut balls that formed the wall of people creating a Tour de France atmosphere at the top of the hill. Knowing they were there waiting for me on the second loop, and knowing everyone back home would be checking splits on line kept me from floundering too badly into the 20 mph headwind that picked up on the first half of the second loop. If it hadn’t been for seeing my coach’s husband, Todd, riding back to town, I may have totally lost it. A little tailwind, a few shouts from Terry Labinski and a brief moment of three guys from Portland, including myself and Mark Kendall, riding in a line, brought me back to the Terrace in style, up the Helix again and off on the run. I hate to beat a dead horse, but the guy who helped me in transition rocked and got me on the road again.
I’m not sure I’ve tackled anything that is tougher mentally than the start of an Ironman marathon. I mean, you just rode 112 miles, the whole time trying to focus on pace and nutrition so you can run, so not only are you physically tired, but mentally it is draining. After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it off the capital square and heard Heather Haviland’s voice on State St. above the crowd. Once again, it was going to be the people that have helped me in so many ways during all my years of training that were going to help me get through the torture chamber that is an IM marathon.
Things started to click by mile 3 where Terry and Grace Labinski were cheering hard at the gates of Camp Randal. A couple miles later, it was up over Observatory hill and on to State St. passing the Headhunter aid station and entering what felt like a triathlon stadium with all the folks lining the street. That stretch was also highlighted by my wife holding my daughter above the crowd, my Aunt Nancy, cousin Ken and his sons Dane and Ryan at Bascom Hill, and my mom (holding my niece Holly) and her husband Sean leading cheers on State Street. My dad, though, couldn’t have been at a better spot. Despite feeling as if I was running well, 5 guys, all in my age group passed me in a 1200-meter stretch just after mile 8, but my dad kept me going. All I could do was shrug and keep moving.
Before I knew it I was back at Camp Randal, Terry and Grace were still yelling, and I got my first glimpse of Aimee smiling on the run. Following closely behind were Heather and Jen from my Ironheads team. Heading back towards the capital I saw my coach Lauren was in fourth overall, and as is her usual custom, she was stone cold focused. Amie’s dad and his wife Vickie, as well as the shouting Heather Haviland, got me back up and down the capital square hill and onto the final loop of the day. Suffice it to say, it was a struggle. The first 5 miles were OK, and I even saw my brother for the first time about mile 18 (of course he was close to mile 21 at that point) and I was starting to believe I could get close to that 10-hour barrier. Once I got up over Observatory hill though, it was hard to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. If it hadn’t been for all the people I had supporting me and Craig Lanza pushing me from close behind, the 10:15 I eventually did accomplish would not have happened.
Finally, with the finish line in site, I mustered as much speed as I could (about an 8 minute pace) and followed 56 year-old Jim Bruskewitz across the line as he set his age group record (formerly owned by Joe Bonnes) by 30 minutes. Waiting for me was the whole crew including some faces I had not seen all day (Molly, Bonnie, Gil, Frank and Alyssa Alvarez, and of course Hubie and Warren). Also waiting there was Alison’s birthday cake (she turned one on race day) and an ensuing birthday party.
Not qualifying for Kona was a big disappointment, but after reflecting on the day, I feel truly blessed to have had such an uplifting experience, and most importantly, sharing that experience with so many outstanding people, on and off the course. After all, I really think that is what triathlon is all about, a way to bring us all together through fitness and love of sport. Congratulations to all that finished, and a huge thank-you to all of those who made it possible.
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