"Tell the aid guys to come pick me up. I'm at mile 5.5" I yelled to my teammate Douglas as he trotted up and passed me on the run course of my first ½ Ironman Distance race. My dear friend and teammate Paula Popp had told me earlier "be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself" when she heard Thursday that I was going to tackle this event. To that I sarcastically replied "yes mommy, I can always walk on the run". I had the whole thing planned out in my head, had my goals broken down for each leg of the event but had not factored in "the unexpected". What happened was Not what I had envisioned or hoped for on my first ½ Ironman race. Silly rookie!
The whole thing started about 3 days ago……
Teammate Steve Wick and I were out on a leisurely ride around Mercer Island on Wednesday when he said "so you're doing the ½ Ironman race in Black Diamond Saturday right?". I said "Noooo. I'm done for the season". I had finished strong at my race in Elma 2 weeks prior and was switching gears to train more on running for my first ½ marathon in October at Lake Sammamish. Being new to this sport and having so many "firsts" the past 5.5 months, I was not wanting to have my first ½ marathon be after 1.2 miles in the water and 56 crotch hurting bike miles. To date, I had only swam 1 mile, my longest bike ride was 42 miles, and the longest I had ever run/jog/walked was 8 miles. "I'll just work hard over the winter to lose more weight and train hard for Boise in June" I said. Steve and I have a little weight dare going on right now and he asked how I was doing with that. The past week on vacation in Idaho with the family was hard and I had only lost about 4 or 5 pounds since he and I started our weight loss trek about 2 weeks prior. We were planning to ride around noon on Saturday and I told him that I was also going to go running with Paula Saturday at 8 am. He commented "wow all that in one day that's quite a lot, might as well do the race". I'm not sure if those were his exact words, but that is what my mind heard. I could just hear all the voices in my head saying "that's too much, too soon, Shawn. You've just started and need to build up to that". But I was already planning on working out for 4+ hours Saturday and figured why not just have a nice long workout and do the ½. I don't know how in the heck I talked myself into it, but somewhere in my lunacy or passion for the sport I declared "what the heck-I'm doing it".
I found myself strongly wanting to back out on Friday after I had been thinking about it for 2 days. After writing that email to the team trying to rally up some more takers for the event, I said "you've got to do it now silly, you just sounded the horn and everyone is counting on you to do this". Isn't our mind so easily fooled with itself? That's hardily a good enough reason to stick to something so rash and sudden. I'm sure everyone that I told would have understood if I changed my mind and didn't follow thru with doing the event. I am not a man who says he will do something and then backs out. Except for the time that I promised Patty B that I would beat her someday, unless she gets any faster then my manly challenge would be off. Other than that, I am a man of my word and I was going to do it. Also when I challenge my teammates and try to encourage people to push the limits of what they think they can do, I feel deep down inside that they are watching me to see if I'm going to be able to do it myself. I wonder if they are saying, "Well, if Shawn can do it then maybe I can do it?" Then I tell myself that I can't back out now. I must do it. People are counting on me".
Up to that Friday afternoon, I had been relatively calm, with minimal anxiety about racing the next day. I guess the reality of it had not yet set it. Plus there was still the chance that I might have backed out. Committed I was and it was time to plan for race day. My wife did not even hesitate when I said that I was wanting to do the race. She just said she was coming. My 8 year old daughter had a soccer game Saturday at 10 am so I talked her 6 year old cousin, that also had a soccer game at 11 am, to invite my daughter Chelsea over for a sleepover. Problem solved!
You all know the "night before" preparations for a race. Where's my goggles? What socks do I want to wear? Is my Garmin watch charged up? Does my wetsuit smell like pee? Etc. So I get everything prepared, packed and all I have to do is put myself and my bike in the car the next morning. The race started at 9 and my plan was to arrive at 7 and get checked in. Since I'm wasn't caring about anything but a finish, I didn't really care about bike positioning in the transition area. No need to be first one there at the butt crack of dawn for nothing.
Race Day is here! It's 5 am and we're up. Cathy (my wife) and I load our 3 remaining children into the car and strap my bike on the back. Having eaten a bagel with peanut butter and some fruit already, I was able to justify finding a Starbucks for my routine Mocha Frappachino before the race. I get one after too, but that one doesn't count. That's for congratulating myself, not for good luck. "See how that works? Yep."
Nolte State Park. Here we are. It's a beautiful peaceful morning and I'm just excited to get this thing going. Cathy drops me off with my stuff and leaves to drop the car off and ride the shuttle bus back to the park. With my duffle back on my shoulder and walking my bike in with my hand on the seat (like Kris and Lisa taught us to do), I come strolling in to registration. Filling out the registration form I always look right away for the "Clydesdale" category and complain that it starts at 198 lbs. That's still a freaking "skinny" in my book. That's like 2 legs and ½ a torso to me. Oh well, that's my group, those are the competition. After getting my bike racked and all my gear laid out, I do the "triathlony" thing and walk down to the water, stand there and stare at it for some reason. That's what everyone else is doing so I guess I should go do that. That's done so back to transition to start pounding, I mean hydrating, with Gatorade. Walking back into transition I heard a guy say to one of his fellow volunteers, "wow do you see that guy? He looks like he could be a football player". His buddy goes "what guy?". "That big guy walking thru the tent right there. He's big enough to be a football player" he says. I don't know if he was complimenting me on my Tom Cyr like guns or making fun of my weight. I took it as a compliment, kept walking, and said to myself "looking good there stud man-you got other dudes checkin you out". Um wait a minute that didn't sound good. You know what I mean.
"All Racers head to the beach in 5 for our mandatory pre-race meeting" announces the race director over the sound system. He interrupted a really cool song too, darn it. So it's to the beach we head. I'm hoping for anything under 1 hour for my swim goal. First and foremost I am hoping that I don't have another panic attack from my wetsuit choking me out like has happened 3 times this year. Previously in Martha lake I literally thought I was going to drown and barely, I mean barely, made it to the nearest dock with the aid of Camila. That was because that suit was way to small for me. So during my search for another wetsuit, I was having trouble locating one that was rated for a man of my height and massive girth at the time. 6'4" and 246 was the biggest it was rated for and I'm 6' 3" and 284. It fit ok, so I bought it. It has worked great all summer and gotten me thru several other races and I have only had 2 episodes since then, but have now figured out exactly why it was happening. So now I wear a long sleeve, "underarmor type", skin tight shirt that my wetsuit can slide over easier. It has worked great that way.
So I throw up a quick prayer as I stand hip deep in the water counting down with the announcer..5,4,3,2,1. Now that I'm repeating it, I don't know if the announcer says go or what he says. I usually just dive right in and guess that he said go. We're off. It's a two loop clockwise swim which I was thankful for because I breathe to my right and it helps with sighting. I was happy to be in the first wave because I knew that there would be 2 other waves behind me and that improved my chances of not being the last person out of the water. It's embarrassing enough to have a brand new fancy TT bike, with my name on it, to be the lone bike waiting for me coming out of the swim. Everyone else has already left on their bikes and there's one shiny race bike waiting for it's trusty owner to get his butt out of the water. I can just imagine my bike saying "come on boss, we got a lot of people to pass to catch up" as I come walking in stripping off my wetsuit. "No, no we're not gonna push it today Betsy. We're just out here to finish today" I said. Am I really talking to my bike? I totally should've sat this one out. People are gonna talk.
It's been a great swim so far. Not too much kicking or straying off course. The water is nice and I'm feeling great. I come around to buoy number 4 to start my second loop and I hear a bunch of cheering. I'm like "oh how kind of them to cheer me on like that. Everyone is so kind out here it's awesome." Then I hear "here come our first contestant out of the water" over the loud speakers. Oh! so that's what the cheering was for. Curses. Well I'm just plugging along, glad that I haven't drowned yet and push my pride back and head out for loop 2. I know I'm slow but I felt good and it seemed to go by faster than loop 1. From my earlier pounding of the Gatorade, I mean hydrating, I didn't manage to get a pee in each loop. "Oh gross Shawn, you could've left that out. Really?" Just saying what we all know happens out there. J
Loop 2 is done and I'm coming down the home stretch. Happy to have swam 1.2, feeling good and ready to straddle ole' Betsy. I can hear my oldest daughter cheering "yay daddy" as I make my way up the hill to transition. I'm in and I'm out of transition in a blistering 4 minutes flat. Hardly fast. All I could hear was myself saying "slow down we're just here to finish".
The course has a nice little 1 mile or so of gentle uphill coming out of the park to get your legs warmed up. How kind of them. It's nice coming back in but no-one never thinks of that as they head out having just swam 1.2 miles. I concentrate on a smooth pedal stroke and trying not to pound the pedals to hard. I really had no idea of what to expect after a couple of hours in "race" mode. I had to force myself to back off and stay consistent. I wore my Garmin heart race monitor watch to keep an eye on my heart rate but actually only looked at it twice for some reason. I just went off of feel. I felt that a good groove would be anything that wasn't chugging air. So as long as I wasn't breathing hard (except for the few hills) I would fair well. And I did.
"These people will probably pass me on the second loop" I muttered to myself as I started passing people early in the first few miles. "But I'm not pushing hard to pass anyone I'm just going at a smooth pace", I justified. Oh well this was my first and we would see if I made the right choice later on. Having had a chance to do the Olympic Distance race there earlier this year, I was glad to remember the course and plan my energy accordingly. After a few miles I remembered that I had no clew what my swim time was, so I looked at my watch and it said 10:08. Race started at 9 am and I had already been going for a little while. Sweet! I was sure that I accomplished my goal of a sub-hour swim. It's gonna be a good day.
After about 12 miles I had still not been passed by anyone and was continuing to pass people and was really starting to wander if they knew something I didn't about riding 56 miles or what. But I was feeling good and could hear Stacy in the background reminding me to "gu every 30". I started, and I felt fine so far. I was cruising right along and hit 40mph several times. It was going great. Bottle exchanges were a new thing that I had yet to encounter in a race and was definitely awesome. A little tricky balancing your bike while your trying to refill containers but I needed some water and it came at just the right time. Weird how they kind of planned that huh?
The first loop had an out and back of about 6 miles added on to the end of it prior to starting the second loop. Heading past the cheering crowds lining the street, I pedal off to start loop 2. Mentally it was kind of cool because you know that you are half way done, but really you are more than halfway done because of the added distance that was only on the first loop. Starting the second loop I knew that I only had 25 miles left and I was still feeling great. It was a nice surprise to come around a corner to see my wife standing on the side of the road midway thru the bike course standing out there with the camera and kids clapping. A few miles later they were following me in the car taking some pictures and exchanging a few "I love you"s. I felt like an Ironman. I felt important. Truth is I felt cooler than an Ironman. I felt like a loved Dad and husband. I am!
My energy was fine, my legs were fine, but my neck and shoulders were starting to bother me. My new race bike has a much more aggressive geometry to it than my road bike and the longest that I had spent in the aero position on my new bike was a little over an hour in my last Olympic distance race (which I was sore afterwards now that I remember it). I was wandering how I would fair being on the bike for an expected 3.5-4 hours on my race bike. I was feeling it. I had to sit upright quite a few more times the second loop and those spots in my crotch weren't numb like everything else, so that was bothering me when I was upright. I had to go back down to the aero position to save my saddle bones, but it came at the expense of my neck and shoulders.
Swish, Swish, Swish….."What is that?" I listened closely. Then a very nice fellow sporting a #45 in black marker on his right calf goes pedaling past me. I look down it was mile 38. "That's not bad" I said to myself. Getting passed once in 38 miles. I'll be fine. I hope this isn't going to become a habit. So I picked it up a little bit. I didn't want to lose sight of him, but I did after a couple miles. Swish, Swish, Swish…."NOT AGAIN" I yelled at myself. Oh this is not cool. "Calm down Shawn" I reassured myself. Don't race their race or else you may not finish. So I let them be. Thankfully they slowed down at the next hill and miraculously I was able to overtake both of them right away at mile 42. And "is that who I think it is?" at mile 42.5. Mister #45. Sure enough. Well I passed him and never saw him or anyone else pass me for the remaining miles. Coming back the last gentle downhill mile back into the park, I was stoked because, not only had I just ridden 14 miles more than I had ever ridden before, I had gu'd every 30minutes like I should, consumed plenty of water and Gatorade, had not been passed (technically) in 56 miles. I was feeling awesome…except for my nagging shoulder sockets and neck. "Oh well, that's done with. It shouldn't bother me anymore now that I can be upright for the rest of the race" I told myself.
Dismount and trot through the tape waiting and looking for my cheering section. I was sure they would be there. "Yay Dad, you did it. 4 hours for the swim and bike" they said as I was running by. After racking my bike and heading out for my run I looked at my watch and sure enough. It had just turned 1 pm and I was already heading out on my run. That means that I had got my sub-hour swim and that meant that I "killed" that bike course in 3 hours or less. 2:59:16 to be exact. Hot dang, I'm feeling great (except for my shoulders) and I've got a great chance at not only finishing this in less than 7 hours but I was shooting now for 6:30. I headed out strong, too strong actually. I looked down at my watch and it said 8:55 pace. I was like "oops that's adrenalin, I better slow the heck down pronto or else". So back to a 10:30 pace which is what I had planned on and kept it at that. My legs were feeling good, my heart was feeling good, and my breathing was under control. My hopes were high. I kept saying "I've got 7 hours or less in the book. It's cake walk now. Even if I have to walk". Silly ole' me. How little did I know.
My shoulders hurt. They really started hurting. A couple of miles go by and I'm really running out of places or angles to hold my arms in such a way that didn't hurt my neck and shoulders. It was now starting to affect my ability to stay fully upright and my ability to breathe fully. Obviously resulting in a decrease of pace and a crippling effect on my morale, I was sad. I was also feeling quite upset in my stomach. I was afraid to drink or eat anything. So I sipped on water occassionaly. 4 miles had come and gone. My shoulder sockets felt like someone had just ripped my arms off of my upper body, like on a cheap horror movie, and stuck them back on in the left over hole in my torso. There was an Alpaca Farm ahead with a nice tall wooden fence. I would see if resting my arms on the fence for a minute would re-leave some pressure and let me keep going. So I stop and rest my arms on the top rail, to no avail. It didn't help. I then heard Stacy again. "keep moving forward, keep moving forward". So I walked.
The next mile and a half I struggled so much with not only the pain from my arms, but from the thought of failure. "I knew he was biting off more than he could chew" or "I told him to be careful" and several different variations of similar thoughts kept coming into my mind. What will people think? What will people say? No one person or one voice in mind other than my own thoughts and fears of anyone thinking that. I wanted so much to finish. Everyone has been so supportive and not a single person tried to discourage me from this event. So why was I trying to "prove them wrong". There was nothing to prove. My Teammates are awesome. I am sorry for thinking pessimistically but I am just being honest and telling the story exactly how I felt it. So many thoughts and emotions come out when you're at this stage of a race this big. A lot of you know what I am feeling to some extent.
I had resolved to quit. I was going to be a "DNF". It took me a mile and a half of unsuccessfully being able to walk without severe pain, I had to stop. I am in the middle of the road and look back to ask the next person to relay a message for me. To my surprise and comfort it was teammate Douglas looking strong. I said "I can't finish. My shoulders are killing me.
At the next turn around please ask for the aid guy to come pick me up. I'm at mile 5.5".
I took off my race belt and laid down on some grass like I was going to make a snow angel. It felt so good for my shoulders not to have to support my arms. I rested for a few minutes and decided "well I might as well try to walk while I wait for the aid guy". So I got up and plodded on. As I approached the next turn around at a slow walk, the 2 volunteer girls asked "is there a guy back there that needs an aid car?"
"That's me" I said. "but I'm gonna keep walking till he shows up".
I walked and walked and found that if I wedged both of my hands tightly inside my fuel belt, that it supported my arms enough to not kill me. Then I could concentrate on not throwing up. If it's not one thing it's the other, I know. I couldn't walk fast, but I could walk. A little while later the aid guy shows up and asked how I was feeling. "I'm walking ok now, don't go far. We'll see how I do. Come check back in a little bit please" I asked him.
Mile 6, mile 7 and so on pass. I had been able to keep trudging along and started having more realistic hopes of actually being able to finish. Then came a descend and I tried to jog a little downhill. Bad idea. That set me back a little. I just couldn't jolt my arms. I was so frustrated, but determined to not run because I had to finish. Finishing was more important than trying to run and make up time lost.
Mile 8 came and went and I made a mental note of congratulation myself on being in uncharted territory. That was farther than I had ever traveled on foot in any one of my exercises or workouts. I was doing it. I was still in a lot of pain having just tried to jog down that last decent and told myself that I would have to lay down again for a few minutes to let my arms recharge. Mile 9 was a good spot. I found some nice grass and did the whole snow angel thing again. I was kind of surprised that out of the 7 or 8 people that walked/jogged passed me that only one of them asked if I needed help. Oh well they were running their race and I wouldn't stop them for anything other than to ask them to ask for help next time they saw a volunteer or official. I was fine. After resting for a while, I said "come on. Only 2.5 more miles till you can see the park and finish line and only another 1.5 ish around the lake then you can be done." I just knew that I could hang in there for another 4 miles. My feet hurt. It felt like the top 2 or 3 layers of skin on the bottom of my foot were separated from the rest of my foot. It really sucked. Note to self: run more, train more, build up your body's resistance to this stuff. At least I was learning what I need to train for as I prepare for Boise. That mission I accomplished. Train to finish!
There's the Park! I know I can do it. I tried to jog. It hurt like the dickens. An M-dot (Ironman Finisher for those of you who don't know) fellow spectator ran beside me for about 50 yards cheering me on, saying nice things, and gave me a lovely slap on my ailing shoulder. Ouch! He didn't know. It was cool. I headed past the transition area down the trail that looped the lake. The finish line was right there. I had made it. 1.4 miles left. Two other racers passed me on the trail. I didn't care. I had been used to it for the past 2.5 hours. I was just happy to be almost done. I fought my emotions. What emotions? Guys don't have emotions? "Come on shut up Shawn" I told myself.
I was close. I could hear the crowds and the music. I said it is now time to "Finish Strong". I started to run. Around the corner I came and there it was. The most beautiful thing in the whole world that day. The Finish archway. I was just a few hundred yards away and knew that my wife and kids would be there waiting for me. I was going to finish. I would win!
Bells are clanging! People are screaming cheers! They are so kind to make me feel like I was coming in at first place. The announcer says my name and I cross the line. I was done. "I can do all things through Christ which strengthened me" I finished. 7:34:09
I cried.
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