Sunday, September 14, 2003 10:49 PM

Greetings,

It may be a while since last you heard from me.  My profound apologies.  At

any rate, to start from the beginning, I did Ironman Wisconsin last year and

enjoyed myself so much, I decided to give it a go again this year.  What

follows is a rather detailed account of the day and some of what led up to

it.   

Josh

Ironman Redux – Return to Ironman

Endless Summer

As long as I can remember, I have had a certain fondness for the state of

Wisconsin.  Maybe it’s because it is a significant contrast to my home state

of Illinois.  Sure, Wisconsin has its fields of corn and more cows per

capita than just about anywhere else in the civilized world.  But it also

has green hills, lots of trees, and one of the highest state income tax

rates in the country.

The state capital, Madison, is one of my most favorite of places.  It is the

home of a major university, one of the best farmer’s markets in the country,

a free zoo, a beautiful arboretum, and a penchant for being just to the left

with regards to politics (slight understatement).  I spent three weeks there

as part of a summer job a few years back and thought that this would be a

place I could easily call home.  Good things just seem to happen, my mood

brightens significantly, when I travel to Wisconsin.  Maybe that’s because

I’ve never been there in January.

It’s been one year in the making, give or take a couple of days, knowing I

would be competing in the 2nd annual Ironman Wisconsin.  These races fill so

gosh-darned fast, one must sign up the day after the previous year’s race to

reserve a spot.  Nevertheless, I had such a positive experience last year

that I couldn’t wait to make the return trip, knowing what would be in store

the second time around.  Last year it was a learning process, this time

around I could work on some of the weaknesses that made themselves apparent.

For the first time in a number of years, I started doing some speed work

consistently to help get my running to a higher level.  OK, my running isn’t

exactly my weakness, but my times did get faster.  This past year I have

bettered some of my oldest personal bests, from the 5K up to the marathon. 

I credit that to the weekly speed sessions.  I am amazed at my fortitude,

from below zero January darkness around a lonely track with a single light

at the end to hilly cross-country half mile repeats at a local park in

sweltering 100 degree heat and humidity.  It helped to have Bob and Bob’s

son Paul around to help, Bob as “coach” and Paul as a high school runner

trying to stay in shape for the running seasons of cross country and track. 

I couldn’t have been as consistent without them.

I’ve also been quite pleased to have transformed myself into a decent

swimmer.  I’ll most likely never regain the speed I had in high school, nor

will I ever win any open water competitions.  But swimming with a master’s

group in the predawn mornings, three times a week with utter regularity from

April through August, was enough to enable me to improve markedly, even if I

still swim in one of the slower lanes.

That leaves the bike, my glaring weakness, the one thing that I said I would

work on the most this year.  It didn’t quite happen that way, for one reason

or another.  I still put the time in, nearly 2800 miles since April, even

with a good hard speed work from time to time.  And I did improve…a little. 

I was able to break the 20-mph average barrier at the Muncie Endurathon this

year, my first time ever at that pace.  For me, that was a pretty big deal. 

But I also know if I wish to improve further, more work must be done in this

area.

And so I went into my second Ironman with a lot of confidence in my

preparation.  I suffered no major setbacks:  no injuries, no illnesses, no

lengthy breaks in training.  I guess it’s a good thing I don’t really watch

television or play video games; Ironman training would really cut into those

more sedentary pursuits.  The best part about the whole experience, though,

just might be that it never became old or something that was routine.  I

looked forward to nearly every workout, especially in the middle of a long

day at work, sitting at a computer while the sun was shining and I was

beckoned outside to be doing anything other than what I was currently doing.

  Then again, you have to pay the race entry fees somehow.

On (to) Wisconsin

I think it takes a certain type of person to want to even attempt an

Ironman.  It’s just not normal.  Sure, there are more difficult races and

events, like the Tour de France, the Race Across America (RAAM), summiting

Mount Everest to name a few.  But there is something about the Ironman that

defies my own logical sensibilities.  It’s a darn long way, with lots of

pain, sweat, and the occasional black toenail.  Most everyone has at least

heard of it, though maybe not the exact distance traversed or the exact

order of events (first you bike, then you kayak…).  Not quite.  2.4, 112,

26.2, collapse.  OK, maybe not the collapse part.

I left St. Louis Friday morning for Madison, well tapered and well rested. 

My bike, which needed some emergency repair work for a broken spoke earlier

in the week, was fixed and ready to roll.  I dropped by the Monona Terrace

and Convention Center to register upon my arrival, then drove on to

Milwaukee to visit my uncle and attend my first Brewer’s game at the

relatively new Miller Park.  Box seats are a wonderful creation, by the way.

  On Saturday morning it was back to Madison for an early morning swim where

I able to not only enjoy the refreshing waters of Lake Monona, but also to

receive my first bee sting in more years than I have black toenails.  Good

thing I’m not allergic, but I was just a little itchy.

The afternoon and evening passed without major injury and I was even able to

sleep a couple of hours on Saturday night.  That lasted until about 2:30 in

the morning when, knowing full well what is to come the next day, it is a

requirement that one wakes up every fifteen minutes to make sure that it is,

indeed, fifteen minutes later, no more, no less.  That lasted until 4:30

when my alarm did finally decide to ring.  Thus, coaxed from my stupor, I

gathered my swim gear together, ate a quick breakfast, and made my way to

the start.  My saintly father was gracious enough to give me a ride, knowing

that his day would be essentially as long as mine would be.  Having both

parents there to spectate for the weekend meant a great deal to me.  It’s a

shame they weren’t able to get any photos better than my behind as I biked

by, usually taking them by surprise.

Arrival

I arrived at Monona Terrace a little over an hour before the start of the

race.  It was still dark, and the shallow lighting over the parking deck

where the rows of bikes were set up leant an aura of foreboding to the

morning.  The one thing that is impressed upon me, in the hour before the

start of the race like this, more than any other race I have ever done, is

how quiet it is.  Nearly 1800 athletes are getting ready to take on more

than 140 miles as fast as they can under their own power, and the silence is

deafening.  I asked the gentleman next to me if I could borrow his bike pump

after he was done with it, seeing as to how long the lines were for the

communal pumps supplied by the bike shop sponsors.  He nodded wordlessly. 

The nervous energy from all of these tapered athletes, myself among them,

was palpable.  I met my friend Lynn by her bike about 6am to personally send

along some last minute words of encouragement.  We walked down the helical

ramp that plays a large factor into the transitions to the swim start.  I

lost her when she went back to the dry clothes bag drop to put her shoes in.

  About 6:40am, I entered the line of neoprene, swim caps, goggles and all,

to enter the water.  Standing in queue, I noticed Heather Gollnick, last

year’s woman’s winner (as well as this year’s) standing in line with us

“mortals”.  I thought that was great, one of the fastest pros in the field,

and here she is entering the water at the same time as everyone else without

any sort of privilege.  She may have finished more than an hour ahead of me,

but for that moment, she was the same as everyone else:  a competitor.

The Journey Begins

After treading water for about 15 minutes (not difficult to do in a rather

buoyant wetsuit) the cannon fired, and we were off!  I tried to seed myself

appropriately; I am not the fastest swimmer, but I have recently gained a

significant amount of confidence in my swimming ability.  I started in about

the 5th row, somewhat close to shore, somewhere in the middle of chaos. 

Ironman swim starts are notorious for their ability to produce kicking and

flailing akin to a washing machine.  My objective for the first lap was to

maintain a steady pace and not get kicked or hit in more sensitive body

parts.  I was somewhat successful, though I did not avoid it completely. 

That would have been next to impossible.

The swim course is a long rectangle, 0.5 miles by about 0.1 mile, two laps

around to make a full 2.4 miles.  As I’ve previously mentioned, the first

lap is used, at least for me, to not get kicked too hard, and maintain a

steady pace.  No pushing allowed, that is reserved for the second lap.  The

water temperature was great, about 72 degrees.  That would be chilly without

a wetsuit, but with one it was just about as perfect as one could ask for. 

The second lap thinned noticeably, and I was able to catch the occasional

pair of feet to draft off of.  Most of the time, it was my desire to swim

the shortest line possible to the next buoy.  I was fairly successful in

this endeavor, as each time I had one in sight, it passed by me just as

quickly.  About two miles into the swim, I started to feel the effort,

probably because that was nearly the longest workout I had done this year. 

But I was able to finish strong, even lapping a couple of weaker swimmers in

the field.  I hadn’t done that last year.  Much to my surprise, I exited the

water in just under 59 minutes, nearly four minutes faster than last year. 

Anything under an hour I would have been ecstatic with, a good way to start

the day.

After wetsuit “stripping” (I’m sure that volunteer position was in high

demand) I raced up the helical ramp, normally reserved for motorized

transport the other 364 days of the year.  The transition volunteers are

amazing, helping you get dressed, applying sunscreen, pretty much anything

short of finishing the race for you.  I’m sure if I would have asked, they

might have said yes.  Adorned in bike regalia, I exited the changing room

and charged toward my bike.  It was slowly down the other helical ramp we

go, careful not to bump into the walls, curbs or spectators.  The ramp

empties to John Nolen Drive, normally one of the busier streets in Madison;

today it was full of non-motorized transport.  Just 110 miles to go.

I know that I have previously described the bike course, so I shall refrain

from going into intimate detail in this report.  Suffice to say, it is

challenging.  It doesn’t have the significant mountain climbs of other

events, as Wisconsin really doesn’t have elevations surpassing 2,000 feet. 

The area around Madison hardly exceeds 1,000 feet above sea level.  But what

the course lacks in significant, long haul climbs, it makes up for in short,

steep ascents.  What makes the course challenging is the relentless up and

down, knowing the next climb is just around the next corner.  It can be very

mentally fatiguing, especially in the last few miles when you would give

your right leg to just have the transition area there in front of you.  Of

course there’s the marathon to think about, but one is usually so relieved

to be almost done that that hardly becomes a major concern.

I’m one of the few folks out there who does not wear aerobars on his/her

bike.  One guy, sans aerobars, did actually pass me, much to my surprise,

and I don’t recall seeing him again on the bike.  Most of the time, it was a

lot of jockeying, always taking caution on my end to avoid drafting.  I

passed, was passed by, then passed again, many cyclists who were somehow

maintaining about the same speed I was.  Normally, I would pass them on the

uphills (I think of myself as a pretty good climber, must be those runner’s

quads), and they would invariably pass me going back down.  Maybe there is

something to those aerobars after all.

The bike course is essentially two laps, an out portion, a 40-mile loop done

twice, then back the same way to Madison.  Passing through the town of

Verona, throwing their own Ironman festival of sorts, is truly spectacular. 

It feels much like what I think the Tour de France is like, spectators

lining the sides of the road, cheering and yelling all the while.  The same

was true on some of the longer climbs; it was at times just narrow enough to

let us pass through.  What a rush!  I tried to maintain a fine medium of

saving myself early in the ride without riding too easy.  I wanted to

improve on last year’s time of about 6:17, and I knew that it would be very

possible.  I didn’t train the way I wanted this summer in the bike, though I

still knew I was in better shape than at the same point the year before. 

Even with the slightly better preparation, I will admit the ride did start

to become really tough on the return trip to Madison.  There is a

significant hill at about 102 miles that is a downhill at the start of the

ride, about mile 10, and it is easy to forget about.  The other hills, you

pretty much know where they are; none of them feel that bad on the first

loop, and you know where they are lurking on the second.  But this one took

a lot out of me.  On the other hand, it was just 9 miles to the end of the

ride, surely that was eminently doable.

About a half an hour later, and a 6:01 bike split, I spun up the helical

ramp into transition for the final marathon run.  I knew, somewhere in the

last 40 miles on the bike, that it was getting very warm out and that the

marathon was going to be a challenge.  Not a lot of fast times would be had

today.  We start in the streets of downtown Madison, a wonderful hodgepodge

of government buildings, apartment buildings and eclectic commercial

enterprises.  It’s a fun place, easy to drop in at a used bookstore, or

linger people watching over a cup of coffee.  No time for that now, though,

I had a marathon to run!

It was warm, very unusual for this time of year in Wisconsin.  The normal

high for this time of year is just north of 70.  I seem to recall hearing 90

numerous times after the race.  The run course was changed slightly this

year, some for the better, some for the worse.  Observatory Hill, on the

University of Wisconsin (UW) campus, is the only major hill on the course. 

Last year, the two lap course traversed the hill four times; this year, it

would only be done twice.  It’s not a big hill, but big enough for me to

have walked it…twice.  There was no sense in killing myself, especially

knowing I could walk up it nearly as fast as running it.  I think many, if

not most, of my fellow competitors felt the same way.

An odd loop around the UW intramural fields was added this year.  Some of it

was on a gravel path, some of it was on a grassy portion of the field

itself.  While nice on the feet and knees, it was somewhat uneven and

significantly more difficult to negotiate on the second loop.  There was

also a lot of sidewalk included in the course, a little bit harder on the

knees than the gravel path along Lake Mendota.  I reason this was to allow

traffic to continue on the streets of Madison and reduce the number of

closed roads.  I was still feeling pretty good on the first lap, and went

out to start my second loop after 1:45 of running.

A rather unique event did take place early in the run.  Last year, I recall

hearing the announcer at the finish line say that the leaders were heading

out for their second loop of the run as I was starting mine.  This year, I

was ahead of that pace, and it wasn’t until my second mile that I was

caught.  Oddly, though, I passed the leader soon after the second aid

station, never mind he was 13 miles ahead of me.  I must admit, that felt

pretty good.  But the fumes of the lead motorcycle were somewhat annoying

and I was hoping that he would soon pass me for good.  I stopped to walk at

the third aid station, and I was passed by the leader for good.  But I

wasn’t passed by second place.  It was an interesting feeling to be running

at the same pace as the second place male, even holding conversations with

his accompanying cycling guide.  I mentioned something to the effect that I

didn’t want to people to think I was the 2nd place male!  He never passed

me, and I only saw him at finishing as I was heading out to start my second

lap.

I really felt like I was just plodding along, most notably on the second

lap.  I would stop to walk at each aid station, longer on the ones located

near hills.  Yet I was still passing people, maintaining about 8:20-8:30

miles.  The shaded sections, particularly the path along Lake Mendota,

provided substantial relief to the sun and heat.  I noted the portable light

stands, thinking there wasn’t much time until they would be turned on for

many competitors.  It was tough, but living in St. Louis, where summer

equals hot and humid, it wasn’t anything worse than some of the summer long

runs I had done.  This was a tremendous mental boost, as many of the

Wisconsinites and Minnesotans in the event rarely deal with conditions like

this.

Aid stations on the course offer water, Gatorade, bananas and pretzels with

the occasional Gu.  I partook liberally of all that was offered just to get

enough fluids and calories in my body.  I must have been at least somewhat

successful, as I didn’t really “bonk” nor was there a point where I thought

I couldn’t do this.  Yes, it was hot, but the race would soon be over, and

there was real food at the end!  I wouldn’t be ready for it right away, but

it was a motivational factor.

At last, the end, a half lap around the striking Capitol building, and the

finish.  I firmly believe that if one could bottle the feeling experienced

at the end of an Ironman, the drug trade would evaporate, there would be no

war, and world peace would most definitely be upon us.  It is a rush that

can hardly be explained, months and months of training in all sorts of

ludicrous conditions, for this very moment.  I saw the turn for the second

lap and continued right past it to the finish.  A single fist in the air and

it was over, 10 hours, 49 minutes and 33 seconds after it had started.

Aftermath

I saw my parents, gave them a big hug, went to eat (though I wasn’t yet

hungry, but thought it was a good idea) and gather my gear together.  I saw

the tables for free massages without a line and eagerly signed up.  This was

a first, and I don’t think it will be the last!  I lingered around the

finish to cheer Lynn into the finish of her first Ironman, and she did so

with gusto in just under 14 hours.  She was ecstatic and deservedly so.

I can’t be upset with a 16 minute improvement over last year especially

given the heat that really must have affected everyone.  Some statistics,

for those who care:

·     180th in the swim (out of about 1750 finishers) in 58:56, nearly four

minutes faster than last year.

·     455th in the bike (out of about 1700 finishers) in 6:01:25, a good 16

minutes faster than last year.  Wind was non-existent on the course, and I

didn’t stop to “relieve” myself quite as often.  I was also better trained.

·     25th in the run (out of 1523 finishers of the race) in 3:35:56, six

minutes SLOWER than last year.  I blame the heat, as I am in as good running

shape as I have ever been.

·     Total time:  10:49:33, 79th overall, 17th out of 173 in my age group.  I

thought, before looking at finishing times, a Kona slot was on the fringe of

possible.  Not quite, only six slots were available, and my time would have

had to have been about 31 minutes faster.

I left Madison on Monday morning, knowing I had swum, biked, and run a great

race.  That was as much as I had to give and, a week later, still don’t

quite have the legs back.  No regrets, though, and that’s important to me. 

I gave a great effort, in my training and racing, and that makes me proud of

what I can do.  But I think I can do better.  That’s why, after much

deliberation, I decided to give it a go in 2004 as well.

Heck, what else am I going to do with my summer?