If only this entry could encompass everything I experienced from the dates August 19th through August 25th, 2009. Every now and then, you have to be reminded who you are and what you can do. What you can accomplish and what you're made of. Who you were and who you are. People beg for these things--Not epiphanies but a time to cleanse yourself. Not about getting back to who you were but moving forward to who you are. Exhausting every sentiment and emotion would be arduous and relentless but neglecting moments doesn't abandon them but keeps them private and important. The kind of things that you tell people about when you only feel like it's the right time.
For you, I want this time (we have here) to be about the race. This is about making something out of nothing. When the laws of nature are against you and you feel like it's a relentless pursuit to follow your gut and your heart rather than your head. Our time in this report is about what I have become rather than who I was.
I showed up to five classes in my college Beginner Aquatics Class. I was certain I failed it but, instead, I got a 'B'. Out of 36 classes, I arrived five times and received not only a passing grade but a higher mark of 'B'. During that class, I witnessed people crying. I saw people so helpless in the water. It was like going into a battlefield every time we got into the water. My indigent water skills were the summary of a culture of a family who didn't think water skills were important. That's because their parents didn't think water skills were important. Think of my fear as a trait handed down through generations.
Standing on the edge of a diving board, my nerves were thin. One summer I was left to swimming class with my cousin Arthur. I was pushed off the high dive and I don't remember anything after that. I asked my Uncle Bill about those classes and he reminded me that he took us to all those classes.
"By diving off that board," my therapist points out, "you take ownership of the choices in the water." I was pushed when I was younger but when it came to working with a coach like Jessica, she told me that I could jump off the diving board and I did.
Time and again, I would keep showing up to Jessica's open water swim class while I kept a low profile. Trying to hope that I would fit in someday, I would go about my own set of rules. Jessica, incredibly understanding, kept an eye on me. She kept me under her wing in my first longer distance triathlon. I froze up time and again. She would help me float on my back and remind me that everything was ok. She told me jokes; I laughed. I felt like she was desperate as I was to find out what was happening to me, "There's like this moment where you panic," she contemplated, "and if you can just get over that sense of panic, you'll get it."
Two years later, I swam across Devil's Lake very slowly and she told me that there wasn't any way to get back except to swim. That's when the wrestling gave away. My mind and my body found some kind of middle territory amongst Clay's Michael Jackson jokes. I competed the next day in a triathlon with no swim anxieties.
In two years, I had gone from hope to 'hell yea'. I told Jessica that I owned Timberman. People encouraged me that I'd make it. But something told me that I could do it. Something deep inside me knew that I was different. Something changed and I liked it. Only a few weeks ago, I got kicked off the Door County Half IM course because I was too slow on the swim. Timberman, on the other hand, was my race for the taking.
"You should try nightswimming," Erik told me, "it's like running with a blindfold on." I stayed at the place that his wife called the 'place in New Hampshire'. Erik, his wife MP, Kitty and Christina all were competitors in the 2009 Timberman Half Ironman. Erik and MP made us at home in their amazing home close to Lake Sunapee in New Hampshire. I was far away from everything and came alone--without wife and kids.
Staying there was like a mini-camp for the race. Every day, there was an early morning swim. Every day, there was somebody running or cycling. I was only interested in swimming each morning. My bike had to be put back together. And my run was no worry to me since I knew my legs could endure virtually any 13 miles.
We had to attend the expo the day before the race. Our bikes were required to be racked on Saturday and our registration materials were waiting for us. We were given bracelets that matched the bike numbers. We had numbers for the bike. We had numbers for the run. We got numbers for our helmets and numbers for our bike.
We left at 3:40AM for the 2009 Timberman Half Ironman from their place on Lake Sunapee. Gathering our things, all of us were silent. Gathering our needed materials, we were like worker ants insuring that we were creating a good future. It was dark on the drive and we clutched onto our respective travelers mugs of coffee. Each mug boasted a white line drawing of a moose. Beneath the moose, it read, "New Hampshire. Live Free or Die." Erik had already given his choice the day before, "I choose Die."
In many ways, this race would be the litmus test to Ironman. My choice to compete in upcoming FULL Ironman competitions would rely on today's events. How long could I really compete and fail miserably? I felt like I jumped a emotional/psychological hurdle, so this would test the pudding of that accomplishment (or so-called). Ironman cut-off is 2:20, so I would have to break 1:10 to even come close.
THERE HAS BEEN A DELAY TO THE START. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. THERE IS AN ACCIDENT ON THE BIKE COURSE. WE WILL START THE RACE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AFTER THEY CLEAR THE COURSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING.
I was trying to warm up my swim my going out on the buoys of the finish. The only thing it did was make me even more paranoid. Jet Skis flew by me and people gathered along the shore. Erik and MP were warming up but turned in early. The water was calm (outside of the Ski Doo's who flew by) and I tread water. I thought that I didn't deserve to be here. I don't really need to be here. I can walk away and no one would fault me. That's when I knew 1. I was going a little crazy 2. I needed to get Happy Steve back again.
The announcement went out over the loud speaker: THERE HAS BEEN A DELAY TO THE START. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE. THERE IS AN ACCIDENT ON THE BIKE COURSE. WE WILL START THE RACE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AFTER THEY CLEAR THE COURSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING. DO NOT MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE START LINE.
I was in my wet suit and forest green cap with goggles. Erik, MP, Kitty and I started making our way over to the start line. I went off by myself for a few moments by myself in the water. I let my body float on the shallow water in a dead man's float and shut my eyes. Like night swimming, I let myself drift.
People start suddenly. Then more. I'm in the 4th wave, I have to hurry and be prepared. I get up there. It's a clockwise swim in a 60 person wave. Every where I look, there's white men in black wet suits with forest green swim caps and see through goggles. I made the brash decision of shaking every hand of people who I thought looked nervous. I said, "Good luck" to each of them. I told myself the one and only mantra I managed to author for myself, "Define Yourself."
GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. The announcer over the bullhorn wanted to keep saying "GO" until everybody was swimming. The floor of the lake stayed with me then dropped off. It was clearest open water I've ever swam. So when it drops off, you can imagine what it made me feel.
The draft of the swimmers ahead of me as well as the excitement brought me to the first buoy in very little time. I would guess 12 minutes. Very fast. I probably sighted two times. I got to the orange triangle and was pointed way, way off. That's where the swim actually started for me.
If the mile was 1.2 miles, then the tangent after the turn was a half mile. It didn't stop. Since I veer to the left on long swims, there were lifeguards who held their oars to remind me to get back closer to the buoys. By the time I got half way through the stretch, the sun beat into my eyes. One lifeguard told me, "You're more than half way though, brotha!" A drastic change in lifeguard tone from the Door County Half IM.
I stopped for a moment to put my head up and looked to the shore and saw the huge number of people on the shoreline. How awesome. I was so far away and it felt so close. I knew I had a long way to go. Oar after oar from the lifeguard reminded me of my veering left problem. It frustrated me a bit but it wore way after I got the the second orange pyramid.
The number of lifeguards dwindled which told me that they weren't worried about the swimmers on this leg. There were three (that I saw) and they funneled you to the finish. This where I was hit and swam-over and so on. I didn't care because I was finishing.
The signals that I finished were slow coming.
C'mon.
C'mon.
Ok. There's the boat. Can I stand up? No. Not until you can touch bottom with your hands. Now? No. Now? No. Now? WTF? ROCKS. STAND UP. I just did it.
SWIM: 55 MINUTES.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Thank you, God. I have been blessed with the power to overcome and own what I want to own when I want to own when I want to own it. I am thankful. Some people talk to you when they're desperate but I am talking to you in thanks. Genuine, open-hearted thanks. Not that disingenuous prayer given every Sunday from those who muster up thanks. It is Sunday and THIS IS MY CHURCH.
My bare feet ran along the grass to transition while I dragged my wet suit off my torso. The wet suit rippers stood ready, WHO'S NEXT? WHO'S NEXT?
I laid down and they ripped it right off me.
My triathlon towel draped over my aero bars. It has the sketch outline of a dead body. A joke gift that Susie gave me. But her joke has the sublime understanding that my irrational fears are actually rational to me.
Dry off. Get ready to bike. Remember to keep it simple the front 15. Reserve it.
But, first I gotta pee.
T1: 6:09
If somebody tells you that Timberman is hilly, believe it.There were people walking their bikes at three points inside the front half. I can see if it's the back half and you're out of energy but these people are already trying to either conserve or they've lost the gusto to climb.
Even though there's 1700 people on this course, I find the cyclists very spread out by mile 40. It's lonely and boring for a runner like me. Then the city creeps up on me and I'm surprised by my time. I have no computer on my bike nor a Garmin on my wrist.
The day got hotter as I turned into transition.
Bike 3:27 (16.2 MPH)
I was having some real bowel issues.
T2: 5:33
I ran out of the porta john, ready to take on the half marathon! Could I have some sunscreen? They spray me down. It felt like a very thin layer but I trusted the volunteers.
The run course was two 10K course loops. Up. Down. Up Down. The best part was seeing every one. Where Christina was. Where MP was. Where Erik was. Where Kitty was. There was something comforting in knowing they were still there racing.
I took just about every ice cube, Gatorade, Water and cold sponge they gave me. The temps were heading close to 95. I caught up with Kitty and Erik on loop 2. We discussed about the importance of the course where the "Bubble City" was.
Slowly, we separated. I thought it was important to finish together but I knew what would happen at the end. I would gain my legs. Erik would lose his. Kitty was starting to crash. Inevitably, we separated.
By the time I got to the finish line, I wasn't sure what I had to do. I simply crossed the finish line.
RUN 2:32
FINISH: 7:08:39
I knew that this was just the beginning. Just the beginning. I started crying, I was in pain. I held my eyes. They handed me a wet towel.
A camera taking photos to happy finishers, but he dropped his lens as I walked by him.
I cried. I cried some more.
My sister Annie was there with her husband and sons. I needed to sit down. They helped me out.
Not only had I just finished a lot work but I have a long road ahead of me. I have to finish something I started in 2006 and it's already 2009. Ironman Wisconsin wasn't just a race that I didn't finish but it was unfinished business.
