IMBrrr! - Ironman Wisconsin 2006

As it turns out, I never actually wrote a race report for Ironman Wisconsin 2006. I'm writing this well after the fact, and post-dating the blog just so it appears in the right place chronologically.

The report would have gone something like this. "It was very wet, and cold. I finished. The End." :-) The temperatures never got out of the 50s. The winds weren't terrible, but at a steady 10 to 20 mph throughout the bike, they sure didn't help. And, the only time it didn't rain all day was during the swim.

I'm kind of sad I didn't capture my thoughts in a report right after the race. Life must have gotten in the way and I just never got to it. Unfortunately time has a way of erasing the details of the memories and emotions. However, it is fun to look back. And, in looking back, I came upon one of my favorite memories of the weekend...my two year old son, Derek, completing the FitKids Fun Run. It was about 0.6 miles, and he "ran" the whole thing by himself, with just one stop at Aid Station Mommy :-)

It still makes me smile. It was a good weekend.


Pointing out the next kid
to catch.


Aid Station.


Mike Reilly calling Derek
into the finish!

My First Ever DNF - Ironman Wisconsin 2005

The one and only DNF (Did Not Finish) I have ever suffered in my life was Ironman Wisconsin 2005. I didn't really write a race report for the race. Rather, I posted a review of what happened in an attempt to diagnose what went wrong. What I posted, on trinewbies.com, is copied below, along with some of the comments I received as a result.

When it was all said and done, what I ultimately concluded is that I consumed too much water during the race, seriously diluting my electrolyte levels. Anyway, the "report" of sorts...


This isn't as much a race report as it is an attempt to lay out the details of my race in hopes of understanding the cause of my demise. IMWI '05 was my 4th IM, having also done each of the previous three IMWI's. I finished all of them until this year where I fell about 4 miles short.

Brief history of my IM past:

IMWI '02: Mild weather, about the best fitness of my life, finished in 11:37. Felt pretty good the whole way except some stomach discomfort through the middle to latter part of the run.

IMWI '03: Very hot weather, a bit less fit than '02, finished in 12:00. Physically felt much the same as '02, although I considered hitting the med tent after the finish for an IV. But there were a lot of folks worse off than I, and I started feeling better after some time and food.

IMWI '04: Again hot weather, quite a bit less fit than previous years, finished in 12:48. Again, Felt pretty good the whole way except some stomach discomfort through the middle to latter part of the run.

Basic nutrition for these IMs was all about the same, except I added more water and sodium for the hotter races. I used Cytomax, water, Hammergel and Clif Bars on the bike, plus a mix of Succeed and Endurolytes, to get about 350 cals and 800 to 1000 mg sodium per hour during the bike at least for the hot races. For the hot races, I took in about 24 oz Cytomax per hour, plus anywhere from 24 to 48 oz of water per hour. On the run, I find it MUCH harder to measure and track just exactly how much stuff I'm consuming. Generally I'd try to take in some Gatorade at most of the aid stations, plus some water throughout by carrying a bottle of ice water, kept taking in salt tablets at the same rate, and a shot of gel about every 30 min.

Onto this year. I made a couple changes to the plan this year. First, I backed off a bit on the calories, thinking excess calories were contributing to my stomach discomfort later in the run. This year, I planned on about 250 cals per hour. Second, I decided to rely on the Gatorade Endurance from the aid stations rather than hauling along my own supply of Cytomax. I followed this basic plan for most of my long training rides with what I perceived to be good results. A couple of my long rides were in very hot weather and I finished them feeling pretty decent.

My run training was non-existent going into this race. I had recurring calf and achilles injuries that brought my running to a halt. I did the St. Croix Half Ironman on May 1 in 6:03, and that was actually my last "long" run of the year. I truly was able to do very little running, and sporadic at best, front mid-May to race day. I probably ran a total of 20 miles in the 4 months preceding IM. A reasonable person would not have raced, but I decided to give it a go anyway thinking the worst case would have me walking a major portion of the run. I was okay with that. My swim training had been weak, but I had no real concerns about it. My bike training had been adequate...not as much as I had done in previous years, but my long rides were going pretty well so I was confident I could come into T2 feeling pretty decent.

Here's how the day went.

Up at 3AM for a liquid breakfast of 2 Boosts and water. Back to sleep.

Up again at 4:30, another Boost and some water.

At 6:30 I had one GU and about 12 oz of water.

Took it very easy on the swim. Avg HR was 141 which is very low for me. My HR usually rockets on the swim due to adrenaline. Swim time about 1:28.

Urinated at T1, had one small cup of water.

Sipped on water the first 30 min. of bike, then started into my plan as follows. One 24 oz bottle of Gatorade Endurance per hour, about 1/3rd of a bottle every 20 min. Approx one 24 oz bottle of water per hour, also about 1/3rd of a bottle every 20 min. I was drinking one or the other every 10 min. As the temperatures went up I increased my intake of water to as much as 1.5 to 2 bottles per hour, which is much the same as I have done successfully in past hot IMs. I took one Succeed cap every hour and about 1.5 oz of Hammergel every hour. So that plan was giving me about 260 cals per hour and 950-1000 mg Sodium per hour consistently throughout the ride, with an increasing rate of water intake as the temperatures drove up into the 90s.

I think I paced the bike well. I held a pace that felt easy for the first 60 miles, keeping my HR usually below 150. From mile 60 to the end of the ride I really felt quite good aside from just getting uncomfortable being on a bike that long. I was feeling stronger than most of the people looked to be feeling, and passing lots of people...not so much because I was increasing my pace, but because lots of people were slowing down.

Since it was so windy, I had no good way to gauge how much I was sweating during the ride. I urinated twice during the bike, and again at T2. My avg HR for the ride was 153, and my bike split was about 6:25.

The run is where things get much less "calculated". I don't like to carry too much with me aside from a flask of gel, so I rely on the aid stations for all my liquid. And, taking it from those little cups with varying amounts in each, with my brain getting fuzzy, it's hard to know how much I'm getting. In general I was trying to take one cup of Gatorade Endurance at each aid station. I did carry a water bottle with me, as I've done in the past, keeping it filled with water and ice. I would sip on this from time to time, but probably used most of that water to spray on my head and body. I was still taking about 1.5 oz of Hammergel and one Succeed cap per hour.

Half way through the run, I found that my high tech salt tablet container (Tic Tac box) had come apart and my Succeed caps had dissolved. From that point I started to add alternatives for sodium by taking some pretzels and chicken broth. I would have a little broth at each aid station that was offering it, while still taking a cup of Gatorade as well. I also started taking some cola at a few aid stations to get some a caffeine. You'd think that crazy mix would make a person nauseous, but I never felt nauseous at any time during the day. In fact, I never really had any significant stomach discomfort all day.

My pace was a slow run (~11 min/mi) for about the first 11 miles, and mostly walking about 15 min/mi after that. My HR was pretty low, probably bouncing around from around 115 to 130. I noticed that I did not appear to be sweating much at all, and my shorts were starting to look pretty salty. I thought maybe my low sweat rate was due to the temperatures dropping and the fact that I was mostly walking and not working very hard. I urinated twice during the ~4 hours that I was out there.

Around mile 20 I was actually feeling pretty decent and started doing some running again for a mile and a half, or so. A bit past mile 22, I very suddenly started to feel disoriented and dizzy. I was forced to stop. It was either sit down or fall over, so I sat down. Still feeling very dizzy, I laid down and asked passing athletes to get me some help. The EMTs where there within a few minutes. I told them I needed an ambulance. They checked my HR and blood pressure, and said it the BP was 72/50. It took probably 10 min or so for the ambulance to arrive. They checked the BP again and got something like 110/50 and they were thinking the EMT's reading may have been erroneous. They started an IV in the ambulance. My temperature was 99.something, but I was cold and shivering.

At the med tent I stepped on the scale. At check-in on Friday I was about 165, sans shoes. In the med tent, I looked at the scale and saw 172. I figure at least 2 pounds of that was my shoes, so I estimate I gained about 5 lb during the race. However, I saw my chart later in the tent and they had written my post-race weight as something like 164. I have no idea why or how they made that error. I'm sure I know what I saw on the scale.

In the med tent, my BP seemed to stick around 110/50 or 60, which unfortunately for me is actually lower than normal. The first IV finished and they decided to pull it out. However I continued to feel very cold and still kind of dizzy. I asked them, not once but twice, if maybe they should check my sodium levels, but for some reason they never did. I tried to sit up but still felt bad, so they gave me another IV. I drank some Gatorade and broth. Since they weren't doing anything else for me, I decided maybe food was my only way to recover so I got them to get me a sandwich. I think I was in there a total of about 2 hours and eventually finally felt well enough to stand and walk out of there. For the rest of the evening I actually felt quite good. But, I noticed my whole body was quite puffy. Things like by hands and fingers looked swollen. My ring that normally fits pretty loose was very tight on my finger.

So, folks, what's the deal? Did I actually consume too much liquid, even though I believe it was much the same as I have consumed in past IMs with similar temperatures? Not enough sodium, or too much? Not enough other electrolytes outside of what I was getting from Gatorade Endurance? Could my non-existent run training have played a part, maybe my body not working as efficiently on the run as it should? I'm very interested to hear from coaches, nutritionists, IM vets, on what you think doomed my race, so maybe we can all learn something from it.

Thanks!

-Steve


Some of the feedback I received...

"Lots of factors playing out here. No way too much sodium at 1 succeed per hour plus 24 oz of Gatorade Endurance. Especially with 24 oz of water on top of that. Not enough likely. You were bloated and not processing fluid through the kidneys. A red flag for low blood sodium.

I personally think plain water is a bad idea during an IM, especially a hot one. At least save the water for the run, when you can't take the sports drinks anymore. Every ounce of water ingested is lowering you blood sodium concentration."

-Mike

-----

"... when I did IMFL 03 I became VERY dizzy about the last 2 miles of the run and I had been walking a lot of it anyway. I didn't get it but I seriously worried that I might pass out and I think it could have been a blood pressure issue. I recall going into a porta potty and the "room" was spinning as if I were drunk. I was in better shape for IMAZ this year even though my finish times were similar and I had no such dizziness but I worried about it. Sometimes I think the calories/sodium/water/fitness thing is just too much to figure out always...the body is just doing the best it can and sometimes things happen than just aren't preventable no matter how much we try.

Sorry about your DNF so close to the finish line and I am glad you are feeling better."

-Steph

-----

"I'm not a doctor, and haven't yet tackled an IM, but my guess is that you were hyponytremic caused by too much fluids, not enough sodium, or both. Clues to me are the quantity of liquids you were taking (twice what I take during a half IM, for example on the bike), the amount of urination (seems like a lot), the weight gain, and the puffiness you noticed afterwards. So, I think you either need to drink less liquids, or take more electrolytes. 2 large bottles per hour seems like an awful lot of fluids on the bike. I'm not an expert, just an half-educated guess."

-Nate

-----

"Generally when I become dizzy and disoriented it comes from either low electrolytes and/or dehydration or a calorie deficit induced bonk.

250 calories/hour would be very light for me and it would eventually catch up with me. When that happens perceived exertion goes up but your HR doesn't necessarily follow.

24 - 48 oz. of plain water is a lot. In an IM I usually go with water to chase calories but for basic hydration needs I stick with Gatorade. If I were forced to guess based on what you have said I'd go with low electrolytes."

-Joe

-----

"Mental effects would be most likely low blood sugar or hyponatremia.

The low hr on the run points to low blood sugar
The bloating points to hyponatremia

The low blood pressure could very well be exertional hypotension from trying to run.

It's a tough call between dehydration and hyponatremia. A fine line to walk. One thing needed to help figure it out is the sodium content of your sweat. Shouldn't be too hard to find out, I thin hospitals actually do this test. You could bring your own sample and pay cash for the test. But at any rate with a sweat rate test and a test of the sodium content then you'll know how much sodium to replace. "

-Kevin

-----

"... there is a lot of misinformation about the causes and prevention of exercise related hyponatremia. Sodium intake is not necessarily protective of this condition, especially in the context of a hypervolemic condition caused by fluid intake, regardless of tonicity, in excess of sweat and urine rates. The fact that you were peeing every 2 hours supports the hypothesis of hyponatremia secondary to excessive fluid intake. There are some other, less likely causes, but without a blood draw you will be guessing. Weight gain of that magnitude with your symptoms is enough for most medical tents to classify you as hyponatremic or at the very least, on the way.

The strongest factor associated with hyponatremia is fluid intake that exceeeds loss. One could argue that your sodium intake may have staved it off for a longer period, but that has not been proven. Remember that even Gatorade is hypotonic relative to serum sodium concentration. It is a relative scale; think of it as slowly diluting the system. This reflects the recent position stands changes of just about all the major governing bodies and sport medicine associations.

I was thinking about you folks most of the day on Sunday. Fit or not, heat like that will take down large numbers of folks, as the margin for error for pacing, nutrition, hydration, training practices... are reduced to a whisker. Hydration issues sometimes don't rear their head in shorter events as there is less time for a gradual change to become symptomatic. You likely did the right thing by calling it a day before things got worse.

Congratulations on your effort and courage. I respect all the folks who lined up on Sunday regardless of the outcome!"

-Keith M.

-----

... I'm not a doctor, but in my IM races, and other hot weather 1/2 IM's I've done, I've experienced exactly the combination of symptoms you list. In my consultation with the med tent, the diagnosis was low blood sugar and low sodium.

Consider adding a 'natural' sugar, such as fruit during the later half of the bike and into T2. Low sodium you can overcome while racing - low BP you can't. Oranges, watermelon and bananas. All absorb fairly quickly and easily. Coke might not be the best answer.

-Keith J.

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"Irondaddy!" - My Journey to the Finish of Ironman Wisconsin 2004

T minus 9 weeks: It was 9:30 PM on July 8 when the phone rang. Caller ID told me it was my wife Jenni’s cell phone. “Steve, I think my water just broke!” “Okay. What do we do now?” You would think I had paid attention during at least one of those birthing classes, but apparently not. It was about 11 days early, so we were taken a bit by surprise. At 5:28 AM on July 9, our firstborn son Derek gave his lungs their first workout as he let out the most beautiful cry. It’s fair to say that triathlon had just taken a seat way at the back of the bus for awhile.

T minus 8 weeks: Jenni had not been feeling well for a couple of days, and she felt warm. “What is it?” she asked as I stared at the thermometer. “Um… it’s 104”. It was 8:30 PM as the three of us packed up to head back to the hospital where we would stay for the next three days as Jenni fought off an infection. I don’t think I packed my running shoes, and I know I didn’t bring my bike. This would make nearly two weeks with almost no workouts and Ironman Wisconsin looming less than two months away. But, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back home with a healthy, happy new family.

After a few days, all was well and we got back to the business of figuring out how to care for a baby. Unfortunately for me, it also was time to get back to the business of business as I had to head back to work after taking over two weeks off. You know, the pile only gets deeper when you take time away from work.

Oh, and then there’s that Ironman thing. Early morning workouts were out of the question. I just can’t function on five hours of sleep and we weren’t getting much more than that with the new baby. Lunchtime workouts were not going to happen while trying to catch up after the time off. In the evening I just wanted to get home and spend time with my new family. So, the plan I put together in my head was as simple as it gets. I would do one long workout per sport per week. My cycling and running base was…okay. My swimming had been almost nonexistent since…well, since Ironman Wisconsin 2003. I figured I could get in a couple more centuries on the bike, build my long run up to three hours, and build my long swim up to 90 minutes all between now and race day. It was not very elegant, but it would be good enough, and it would have to do.

This would be my third Ironman and the first time that I really didn’t care about my time. Oh, sure, I wanted to give it everything I had. I wasn’t going there to socialize for mile after mile during the marathon. But, I just put no pressure on myself about hitting some target time. One thing mattered to me. I wanted to get to the finish line feeling good enough to carry my two month old son across the line with me. That’s what my day was going to be about, and it felt right.

T minus 3 weeks: “Do you have any plans next week?” It was my boss. “I need you to go to China.” What was I going to say? We were taking off on a Sunday, so I was able to get in one last long ride on Saturday. Our hotel in Beijing actually had a 35m lap pool, so I packed my goggles. Oh, here’s a little tip. If you ever find yourself in China and want to go for a swim, they’re quite insistent that you wear a cap. I created a bit of a stir as I tried to explain to the pool attendant that I did not have a cap. As he scurried away, I got in and started swimming. When I returned from my first lap I was met by the pool attendant and a woman who was happy to sell me a cap. They like things to have a certain order over there.

Fast forward to race day.

T minus 4.5 hours: I don’t recall if it was little Derek or I who woke up first, but at 2:30 AM we were both ready for some early breakfast. I quickly downed 3 cans of Boost while Derek took his time with Mama. I managed to get a little more sleep before rising out of bed for good at 5:00 AM. I had another can of Boost, a quick shower, and off I went to drop off my special needs bags, hit body marking, and put my bottles and food on my bike. This year, rather than waiting in the Monona Terrace with a bunch of nervous athletes and long lines for the bathrooms, I instead returned to my hotel room in the attached Hilton to relax for awhile.

T minus 35 minutes: At 6:25 AM I headed out toward the swim start along with several members of my family. I had nearly 20 family members coming to cheer me on. My wife had ordered t-shirts for them to wear that said, “Go Steve! One stroke, one turn, one step at a time.” with the M-dot logo in the center. It was easy to spot them out there!

T minus 20 minutes: I kissed my wife and Derek goodbye as they headed to the roof of the Terrace for a bird’s eye view of the swim. My sister came along with me as we wound our way down the helix toward the swim start. Near the bottom, I stopped to pull on my wetsuit and take a shot of gel and some water. It turned out I was nearly at the end of the line with probably just 20 or 30 athletes behind me. That was fine with me since swimming is my weakest sport. I had planned to start toward the outside this year to try and stay out of worst of the chaos.

T minus 1 minute: I made my way into Lake Monona and swam out about 30 yards or so. “BOOM!!” Off went the cannon, a bit earlier than I anticipated. I punched my watch and I was off along with 2187 of my Iron friends! You would think I was far enough to the outside to be in clear water, but I think there is no avoiding the fact that you will find yourself “bumping rubber” with plenty of other swimmers in an Ironman. It’s a given. The key is to not let the crowd of swimmers bother you. My number one priority for the swim was to stay relaxed, and I was successful as the swim went by smoothly.

T plus 1:25: When I exited the water I took a look at my watch and it said :37. “That ain’t right.” My watch Stop button must have gotten kicked out there. No worries. It fit with my theme to not be so concerned about my time. The wetsuit peelers grabbed me before I had my arms out of my sleeves, so they helped me with that and in a jiffy I was out of my Aquaman. I heard my sister nearby yelling my name and gave her a wave as I started up the helix. I headed into the T1 changing room, donned my cycling garb, and headed out for the jog to my bike.

T plus 1:38: As I was mounting my bike I heard my family yelling to me from the top of the Terrace. I gave them a wave and a smile, and with that I was off and spinning down the helix and out onto bumpy John Nolen Drive.

I quickly settled into my plan to keep the pace very easy for the first 60 miles of the bike, aiming to keep my heart rate around 145 for the first 30 miles and expecting it to creep up a few beats over the following 30 miles. I took in nothing but water for the first half hour, then started into my plan to take a shot of gel with water on each :30, a half Clif bar with water on each hour, and about a third to a half of a bottle of Cytomax on each :15 and :45. A also took in one or two Succeed salt tablets each hour. I could feel that it was going to be a warm one again, so I made sure to grab at least two water bottles at each aid station. I used one to pour water on myself every few minutes to help keep me cool. I don’t know if there is any science to support this as an effective technique to keep cool, but it sure feels good. This was all pretty much exactly the same nutrition plan I followed successfully on a slightly warmer day during IMWI 2003. A lot of people seemed to make hydration and pacing mistakes in the heat of last year, but my plan fortunately got me through that day in reasonably good shape so I stuck with the same plan this year.

The Ironman Wisconsin bike course just keeps getting better every year. In the inaugural 2002 race, it was the human tunnel in downtown Verona that made the day special. In 2003, both the participants and spectators understood the course a little better so we were treated to large crowds of cheering supporters on the toughest hills. This year the crowds on the hills were even bigger. Compared to the solitary suffering I did up so many similar hills in my training throughout the year, I could hardly even feel the hills on race day as the energy of the crowd just pushed and pulled me to the top. Well, at least that would describe the first loop. With the crowds a bit thinner and the legs quite a bit less fresh, I really started to feel the bite of the climbs the second time around. I was probably not the only one out there trying to fend off the demons in my mind saying, “Dude, you still have a marathon to run. Man, that’s going to hurt!” But, I didn’t have to fight off those demons by myself, because near the top of the last tough hill on each loop was my small army of supporters…my family! Friendly voices cheering, cowbells ringing, signs waving, high fives slapping, and my beautiful baby looking justifiable bewildered in Mama’s arms! Man, if that doesn’t fill your tank for another 30 miles or so, check your pulse!

The Ironman gods smiled upon us for the return trip from the Verona loop back to Madison with a nice tailwind for much of this section.

T plus 8:13: As many saddles as I’ve tried, it seems clear that there are just some body parts that were not designed to be sat upon…for over 6 hours! So, as I wound my way up the helix into transition, I was anxious to get off my bike. I handed my bike to one of the great Wisconsin volunteers, jogged into the Terrace, grabbed by T2 bag and headed into the changing room. With a fresh pair of socks and a cold bottle of water, I headed outside and heard a familiar voice. It was my sister cheering from the top of the Terrace.

T plus 8:19: Just past the timing mats to begin the marathon, I passed my parents. They told me to look up, and on top of the Pickney Street parking garage were 7 or 8 of my cheering family members including Jenni and Derek. I passed my father-in-law who was on photographer duty as I made the turn onto Doty Street and away I went to face the final test of the day.

Early in the marathon I thought I might be in trouble. I had a side-ache type pain across my diaphragm. Thankfully this pain eased up after a couple miles and I began running reasonably well. Whereas I didn’t really have any hard and fast time goals for this race, the one place I was hoping to perform relatively well was the run. I wasn’t out there to socialize. My plan was to run from aid station to aid station, and walk through the aid stations to take in my nutrition. I like this approach because it puts you in a little “box”. It allows your brain to focus only on the next 8 to 10 minutes, so it doesn’t have to try to comprehend doing this for another 20+ miles. It can’t figure that out, but it can manage to comprehend…”if you can just keep running to the next aid station, then you can take a little walk break.” If you can do this through the duration of the marathon, you’re going to turn in relatively good performance. It’s when you start walking between aid stations, or fail to start running again when you reach the end of an aid station, that the minutes really start adding up.

At the State Street turn around between miles 5 and 6, they have an announcer and music. Big crowds gather along this part of the course, and among them were several of my family members to give me some high fives and words of encouragement. I kept rolling along as best I could through the half way turn around. I was still able to run from aid station to aid station, but my pace had started to slow. As I began the second loop, I passed a large group of my loyal fans and my wife stepped out in the street with Derek. “Here, he needs a diaper change!” I stopped briefly to give them a kiss, and told Jenni, “It’s starting to get really hard.” That was my little warning that the second half of the marathon was likely to be a bit slower than the first.

It’s a difficult thing heading out for the second loop of this run having been so close to the finish line. But, with that little boost from my family I had a clear mission. I needed to get back there to see them again! I was able to keep running until I hit the State Street turnaround for the second time. The announcer was gone, but the music was still playing and some of my family was there to give me one last shot of confidence.

Somewhere around mile 20 I was forced to do some walking between aid stations. As much as I truly believe that continuing to run late in the marathon is more mental than physical, I guess my brain was just tuckered out. I was actually starting to feel a little sleepy. I think this is when I starting taking in some Coke instead of just Gatorade, and that seemed to perk me up a bit. My little “box” had gotten really small by now. I couldn’t think all the way to the next aid station. Now I was in “one step at a time” mode. But I was moving forward, and moving forward is good.

T plus 12:48: And then, there it was. I made that last right turn with just two blocks to the finish line. I could hear the announcer and the blaring music. I was scanning the crowd along the sides of the chute looking for my family. I saw the big sign my wife had made, and there they were about 50 yards from the finish line. Derek was awake and alert, and I was feeling good. I know they don’t really like you taking babies across the finish line, but it was something I just had to do. I knew I wasn’t at risk of collapsing. I grabbed Derek, clutched him safely in my arms and began to walk to the finish. I scanned the course behind me to make sure I wasn’t in someone else’s way, but there was no one in sight. It’s possible that I’ve never smiled more happily as I carried my son to the finish. I gave Derek a kiss and we stepped across the line, together. It was a magical finish to a 140.6 mile journey.

As soon as we crossed the line, two very concerned volunteers were right there. The volunteers at an Ironman are truly awesome people. They were doing their job not to believe me when I told them I was feeling fine. One of them held her hands under Derek for fear I was not totally with it. In fact, she wanted to take him but for some reason I didn’t want to let him go and just pulled him closer. I really did feel just fine as they escorted us very cautiously to the back of the finish pen. Eventually they had seen enough to convince them I was not about to fall over and off they went off to catch another finisher. I searched the crowd behind the finish pen and eventually picked out my family. I made my way over to them, handed Derek to my sister-in-law, and relished about a dozen hugs from my parents, sisters, brother, in-laws, nieces and nephews. My wife had gotten caught up in the crowd somewhere trying to collect Derek from the finish pen, but soon she found Team Emmert and gave me a big hug and kiss. I felt like more than an Ironman that day. I was an Irondaddy!

T plus 16:00: After gathering all my stuff, showering, and enjoying some dinner and a couple of frosty beers, a few of us, including little Derek, headed back to the finish to cheer on the remainder of the finishers. If you’ve never been to the final hour of the finish of an Ironman, find the one nearest you and get yourself there. The energy and emotion of that place and time is beyond words. You have to experience it. At 16:27 on the clock, a roar began to build through the crowd as we saw 75 year old Frank Farrar shuffling into the finish chute. He stumbled a bit as he stopped to give a bow to the crowd. I shielded Derek’s ears from the deafening roar as Frank shuffled the last few yards to the finish. 75 years old and crossing the finish line of an Ironman, under the cutoff time nonetheless. It’s stuff like this that makes you wonder if anything is impossible if you want it badly enough.

Derek slept through the whole thing.

T plus 8 days: After finishing my first Ironman in 2002, another athlete, when he heard I was doing it again asked, “What’s going to happen when you don’t go faster?” He was a more competitive type than I, and he’d given up on Ironman after going slower in his second race than his first. There’s nothing wrong with being competitive and constantly striving to go faster. In fact, I’ll probably start every season with the intention of going faster than I went the last. But, to consider it a failure if I don’t achieve that goal would be to forget why I set my mind on doing Ironman in the first place. Not so many years ago while flipping through the channels and stumbling upon Ironman on TV, I watched for awhile and began to think, “How cool would it be to do that sometime in my life?” That thought was very quickly replaced with, “Come on, you could never do that. There’s something extraordinary about these people.” To me, it was impossible.

I do Ironman because of that day when I didn’t believe I could. Ironman is one of those rare opportunities for ordinary people to accomplish something extraordinary. I want my son to grow up believing that anything is possible if you want it badly enough and you’re willing to work hard to get it. That day. That day when I didn’t believe I could. How long it might take had nothing to do with my doubt. Simply covering the distance seemed impossible. I’ll never forget that day. I’ll never forget that to finish an Ironman is to achieve my impossible.

Iron Again - Ironman Wisconsin 2003

The Preamble

I had a great experience last year at Ironman Wisconsin, my first Ironman, so back I went again this year to “get me some more of that!” When I put together my annual training plan this year, I did so with high hopes of improving my time on a multi-year journey toward one day winning a slot to Kona. Well, the plan might have been a good one, but somehow my level of motivation wasn’t where it needed to be to execute the plan. It was clear from my training and racing this season that I wasn’t quite as fit as I was last year, so improving my time wasn’t really in the cards. But, I was still psyched to get back to Madison to prove to myself once again that I have what it takes to make it to the finish line.

Part of my motivation on race day came from my family. I was richly blessed to have a crowd of 20 family members at the race to cheer me on. Yes, 20! Talk about getting a lift when you need one. Now, I know my family would not want me to feel extra pressure due to their presence, but I do…and that’s a good thing. It’s not pressure to go fast. They don’t care. It’s really not even a pressure to finish. It’s simply the kind of pressure that helps to remind me to keep putting one foot in front of the other when things start to get fuzzy. Believe me, in the middle of an Ironman marathon that might be the only answer you need when the inescapable question enters your mind, “Why am I doing this?”

I kissed my wife farewell at 5:45 AM and headed into the Terrace to relax and focus my mind on the day. At 6:40 I slipped on my wetsuit and made my way down the helix to the swim start where I met a crowd of rubber clad athletes tentatively making their way into the water, which was a comfortable 72 degrees. I swam out about 100 yards to seed myself about two-thirds of the way back and somewhat toward the outside of the pack.

The Swim

The swim was mass chaos, as usual, but somehow I managed to avoid the misfortune of taking any really significant blows from errant fists, elbows or feet. The toughest part of the swim was simply getting into a comfortable rhythm with my stroke. Much of the first quarter to a third of the swim was spent just navigating my way through the crowd, which was a huge waste of energy. Eventually things thinned out a bit and some order was created from the madness as I found myself swimming alongside people going about my pace. I’ve been having a problem with drifting left, especially as I get tired, so for much of the second loop I found myself inside the buoy line having to work my way back to the right to get around the corner buoys. As I crossed the timing mat at the swim exit, I checked my watch and saw 1:20, which certainly isn’t fast but it was a couple minutes faster than last year, so I was happy.

The wetsuit peelers did their thing, and up the helix I ran. I actually hit my highest heart rate of the day in T1, running up the helix. That’s just cruel. As I reached my bike, the roar of the crowd was drowned out by the roar of my family as they cheered me on from their perch one level up on the Monona Terrace. My transition time was 8:16, about three minutes faster than last year. Funny, I don’t remember stopping for breakfast in T1 last year.

The Bike

My plan was to follow Gordo Byrn’s tips on pacing on the bike, which worked well for me last year. I’ve followed this same pacing plan on many a long ride during training, but on race day I found it hard to get my heart rate down as it generally seemed to be about 5 to 10 bpm higher than my perceived exertion was indicating. I just kept telling myself to relax and eventually my heart rate settled down a bit. More people were going by me than I was passing, but that was in the plan. I was expecting to see many of those folks again later in the day.

As the temperature climbed, so did my intake of extra water and salt tablets. My pacing and nutritional plan seemed to work as I felt good throughout the bike. I wasn’t moving as fast as I had hoped, but I was feeling good, and that was the most important thing.

The toughest part of the course, the section of the loop between Cross Plains and Verona with three steep, stand-out climbs, was amazing this year. More spectators learned where the toughest hills were, and there were tons of people lining the roadsides, urging us to the top. As I hit the base of the third tough climb on Midtown Road during my first loop, I could hear the crowds up the hill cheering and ringing cow bells. In fact, the noise sounded familiar because my family was gathered near the top of the hill, cheering everyone over the top. What a boost it was to have the high fives, and supportive words, and ringing cow bells. It was so cool on the first loop I was actually looking forward to this challenging section on the second loop.

Around 75 miles into the bike, it became noticeable that many people were losing their focus. Lots of people were sitting up, out of aero position, just coasting the downhills and grinding the uphills. I wasn’t going very fast, but I was starting to move up through the field. It became clear to me right there that lots of people were in for a very tough day. Around 90 miles, I reached the Midtown Road hill again, and collected another free dose of energy from my screaming posse. Hopefully, some of the rest of you IMMooers absorbed some energy from them as well. They had a great time cheering people up that hill, trying to light up some grim faces. The final 16 mile stretch back toward Madison found a number of people stopped along the side of the road just sitting. I just tried to keep doing my best taking in my calories and hydrating.

It felt good to get back to Madison, and circle back up the helix to the transition area. My bike time was 6:27, about 10 minutes slower than last year, but not much slower than I expected. A quick change into my run gear, and I headed out. As soon as I headed out the door of the Terrace, there was that wonderful, familiar roar again. I looked up and spotted my family again, cheering down to me from the top of the Terrace. Just like last year, I gave them a couple of fist pumps and set off on my marathon. My T2 time was 4:31, exactly 2:30 faster than last year.

The Run

The first couple miles went very well. I took a glance at my watch at mile 2 and saw 15:15. I knew I couldn’t sustain that pace so I backed off a little. This would be the last time of the day I slowed down on purpose. I surprised myself with a 3:38 marathon last year, but had no real hopes that I could repeat that effort this year, especially since it was 15 to 20 degrees warmer. I was still feeling pretty good when I hit the State Street turnaround between miles 5 and 6, and there the family was again to urge me on.

My pace started to drop noticeably around mile 9 or so, but I was still running from aid station to aid station. It was unreal how many people were walking. It seemed like more people were walking than running. I can’t remember when it was, but somewhere around mile 10 or so I was forced to begin walking a bit between aid stations. My stomach felt a bit cramped, and it was becoming harder to get the calories down. I wasn’t throwing up, but when I would take a mouthful of Gatorade, or even water, I could swallow just a little of it and sort of spit out the rest. It was like my throat had teamed up with my stomach in rebellion against the Ironman. They didn’t seem to understand how important it was to me.

The next boost from my cheering squad came near the halfway turnaround, where I got high fives from one side of the street just before the turn and from the other side of the street just after the turn. If only I could have bottled up that energy and spread it out over the next several miles. Miles 13 through 18 were really tough. I continued to run as best I could with some walking mixed in, looking forward to the next rendezvous with my fans which would come between miles 18 and 19 on State Street. On the first loop, there had been an announcer at this turnaround, calling out names and getting the crowd going. Apparently, they shut down this announcer station earlier this year than last and the crowd sort of lost its energy. My dad found that unacceptable, so he stepped out into the middle of the street in front of the turnaround, cow bell in hand, cheering all the athletes as they came by. With a few more high fives, I set out on the final push to the finish.

I hadn’t been paying much attention to my time, but when I got to mile 20 I looked at my watch and figured I still had a shot to go under 12 hours. But, it would mean no more walk breaks between aid stations. That became my new mission, and somehow I found a little extra and picked up the pace a bit. This was the most physically and mentally demanding portion of my race, which also made it the most rewarding portion of my race. It’s incredible how the finish line is like a magnet that pulls you in the closer you get. Your legs are shot, but your will to finish takes over and pushes you forward.

A couple blocks from the finish, I could hear the roar of the crowd and the echo of the announcer. I took the final turn to the finish and looked down the street at the clock. I could see I was going to just miss 12 hours, so I slowed down and just absorbed the energy of the finishing chute. This time I couldn’t distinguish the cheers from my family above the thunder of the crowd. It was electrifying!

I crossed the line in 12:00:23 with a 3:59:49 marathon. I was greeted by two very nice catchers, unsure for a moment whether I was destined for the medical tent or the food tent. It seemed that my senses were mostly intact, so I told them I was fine about the same time I heard my wife screaming from the other side of the barricade. I gave her a big hug and a kiss, and rest of the family was soon to follow, with enough hugs and kisses and high fives to last me until next year.

Thoughts

I tell you, if there is even a little thought way back there in the nethermost regions of your mind about one day doing an Ironman, you need to pull that dream up the front of your mind and put together a plan to get you there. Your plan might be years in the making. So what! I saw a 74 year old man cross the finish line at 12:02 AM. 74 years old! It is truly one of those experiences you will never forget, and that no one can ever take away from you. It will make you a stronger person, physically, mentally, even spiritually. I most certainly didn’t believe I could ever do such a thing the first time that crazy thought crossed my mind. On Sunday, that crazy thought and I crossed the finish line of the Ironman for the second time. Anything is possible!

Congratulations to every dedicated soul who toed the line at Ironman Wisconsin. It was very tough day at the end of a very long and hard journey. Each one of you is an inspiration for having taken on the challenge.

"Steve Emmert, You Are An Ironman!" - Ironman Wisconsin 2002

First, just let me say, this is an AWESOME race! The city, the course, the volunteers, the spectators – the ENERGY! It should only get better next year. Ya gotta do this race!

This was my first Ironman. I registered for it on May 10, 2001. I competed in my first triathlon on June 2, 2001. I knew I’d love this sport, I knew I’d love Ironman, and I knew I could do it if I set my mind to it. So, when they announced Ironman Wisconsin, just two hours from my home, I was IN!

My goal for the race was to go under 12 hours, but I wasn’t going to be a slave to the clock, I was going to be a slave to my plan. My plan was to survive the swim (I really need to learn how to swim), go easy on the bike, and leave whatever was left on the run course. Nevertheless, I needed to give my family an idea of where I’d be when, so I figured on 1:25 for the swim, :10 T1, 6:15 bike, :05 T2, and 4:00 run.

Speaking of my family, I had loads of support. My wife (a.k.a. the Sherpa), of course, along with my parents (the first time they’ve ever seen me race), and my sister were there from start to finish. During the bike, my in-laws came up, and my other sister and her four daughters. And during the run, my brother came up as a surprise. Many of them have never seen me race, and have never even seen a triathlon, let alone an Ironman, so it was great to have all of them there!

Swim – 1:23:03

Heading down to the swim, I could not believe how many competitors there were! I couldn’t imagine how that many people could try to swim the same course at the same time. Turns out…they can’t ;-) My plan was to seed myself pretty far back, but in-line with the buoys. You see, I didn’t want to swim any farther than I had to, so I really didn’t want to spend the whole swim way on the outside.

The cannon went off, and I thought my seeding plan was a good one as I swam comfortably for a minute to the starting line. That’s were I ran into a logjam of bodies. I tried to think of a way to describe the swim to my family, and this is what I came up with: It’s like being in a washing machine with a bunch of cats! Good Lord, there was more neoprene than water in Lake Monona that morning! But, damn it anyway, this was Ironman and this is what I expected. All I could do was smile (if you can really do that while swimming) and do my best to relax. I didn’t get anxious or upset about the mass of humanity. I just dealt with it. It was actually kind of fun.

Turning to breathe and seeing thousands of spectators on and around the Monona Terrace was just awesome. But, I was happy to get out of the water and onto activities more suited to human beings than fish. And, I was “on plan”.

T1 – 11:37

My best friend was doing this race and his parents volunteered as wetsuit strippers. They were working as a pair and I sought them out to strip me. Cool! That wetsuit stripping thing rocks! Then, up I went, jogging up the four levels of the parking ramp helix. Got my transition bag, threw on my bike stuff, another jog around the top of the parking ramp, and I was on my bike riding down the helix. I was concerned that the helix was going to cause of traffic jam, but no such thing. It worked just fine, and I was on my way.

Bike – 6:17:09

Immediately on the bike I started to focus on relaxing. If I was to be a slave to my heart rate plan, I needed to be calm and relaxed. I spent the first few miles spinning nice and easy. The plan was as follows, much like recommended in Rich Strauss’ “Ironman How-To”: upper zone 1 for miles 1-30, low to mid zone 2 for 30-60, mid to upper zone 2 for 60-90, and upper zone 2 to lower zone 3 for 90-112. I found that it took great discipline to follow this plan, but I held my faith that it would pay off on the run.

The bike course is simply great. I’ve ridden it several times during training, and I like it more each time. The first time I rode it was a little over a year ago, and at that time it scared me. I was a true flatlander, and those hills ripped me up. But, having a year to prepare, I’ve come to appreciate the challenge. My buddy’s parents, the same ones who helped me out of my wetsuit, were out on the course on the hill on Old Sauk Pass Road. In my book, this is the first hill that really gets you. Maybe some of you Moosters remember them – a gray haired woman madly ringing a cowbell and yelling you up the climb, and a bald man snapping pictures. They’re awesome fans of sport and gave me a great boost!

The best surprise on the course was the crowd in Verona. There were hundreds of people lined up along both sides of the road, crowding in on the course forming a human tunnel and cheering like mad. We’re talking about a little town in the middle of Wisconsin that really doesn’t even get a mention since Madison is the home of the race. But the people of Verona, and those who drove or were shuttled out from Madison, came out in a HUGE way to support the race. It was such a surprise, it brought tears to my eyes. It was there that I thought about how I didn’t want this day to end.

I felt good throughout the bike. It was a little slower than I had hoped, but I had no worries. I followed my nutritional plan to the letter and felt ready to run when we came back into Madison.

T2 – 7:02

Riding back up the parking ramp helix was easier than I had expected, and the crowds screaming at the Monona Terrace were fantastic! I handed my bike to a volunteer, headed to the changing room, and out for a quick visit to the porta john. Over the crowd, I heard someone call my name. I looked up to the upper level of the Terrace, and there was my family cheering me on. I gave them a “fist pump”, and I was on my way.

Run – 3:38:30

I was really surprised with how good my legs felt. Through the first several miles I was able to hold better than an 8:00 pace and it felt comfortable. This being the first time I’ve ever run after swimming 2.4 and riding 112, I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect this. I had planned on trying to hold a 9:00 pace, but this was such unknown territory I didn’t know if that was aggressive or conservative. As the miles ticked by I kept doing the math. “Let’s see, 8 times 7 is 56, right? My watch is under 56, so I guess I’m still holding 8’s.” When I got past 11, it seemed like too much of a metal effort to do the math anymore. Maybe I’ll bring a calculator next time.

As I approached the halfway turn-around I saw my family again, and this time my brother was among them. This was a nice surprise since I didn’t know he was coming, and it gave me a nice boost. It was depressing running basically halfway down the finishing chute and then having to turn around to do it all over again. But that let me go right back past the family again, and with a high-five as I passed them, I was up for it.

On and off through the second half, I was not feeling so well, and I couldn’t decide why. My stomach felt pretty full and uncomfortable, but I couldn’t decide if it was a result of eating or drinking too much, or if it was signs of hyponatremia, or what. I cut back on the Gatorade and it seemed to help. I knew I was slowing down some, but I was still running and had no plans to start walking.

I apparently ran right past most of my family around mile 18 without seeing or hearing them, but I did see my dad because he jumped out onto the course to give me a high-five. I found out afterward that he had wanted to run with me for a bit there, but decided against it for fear it may disqualify me. Now, if you knew my dad you’d be intrigued by that last sentence. You see, my dad has had problems with his feet for several years, and can’t spend too much time standing and walking without pain and discomfort. Yet, on this day he’d been on his feet ALL DAY, and was so moved by the experience of Ironman, he felt inspired to RUN with me! Ironman breeds inspiration.

The final few miles were a countdown for me. My math exercises had changed to something like, “If I run 10’s the rest of the way, will I still finish under 12:00? Yes. Okay, that’s good, just keep running!” With about two miles left, I started to pick up the pace. I could see shadows of people behind me and could feel a couple guys back there using me as a rabbit. That was fine with me, but I was starting to smell the finish line and I wanted to get there NOW!

I’m not sure I can adequately describe the feeling of an Ironman finishing chute. Can you think of another example of an event where a couple thousand people will scream their heads off for a complete stranger? I’m not a celebrity. These people don’t even know my name, that is until the announcer screams it into his microphone. And yet there they are, standing and cheering and clapping and….caring. If you’ve been there before, you know the feeling. If you haven’t, it’s just a 140.6 miles away. I highly suggest the trip.

Summary

I crossed the coveted finish line in 11:37:19. I made my way to the back of the finish area and saw my wife running to meet me. We shared a powerful hug, and the rest of my family was right behind to do the same. I think some of them were more moved by the experience than I was. They were simply floored by what I’d just done.

When it’s over, it’s kind of an odd experience, really. I mean, I’ve been working for this moment for over a year. Somewhere in there I moved past that mental roadblock. You know the one. Maybe it was the first time you ever heard of the Ironman. For me it was probably 12 years ago, and I remember thinking, “What a cool ‘lifetime goal’ that would be!” But right behind that fleeting thought is that metal roadblock which makes you think, “But, I could never do that.”

Well, somewhere in the past year or two, I’ve managed to move past that obstacle and have believed I could do this thing. I just confirmed it on race day. Ironman IS a life altering experience, but the “life altering” part doesn’t happen when you cross the finish line. It happens that day you move past the barrier in your mind that says, “I can’t.”

So, here I am. Another Ironman. Another example that you CAN do whatever you set your mind to. You just have to find your way past that barrier. “You can!”