It’s official, I am an Ironman! After a couple days of recovering, eating, and letting the whole experience sink in. I think I’m now ready to tackle the race report, so fasten your seatbelts (or make a big pot of coffee) because it’s going to be a long one, especially since I’m going to try and document the whole weekend for my own future benefit. Away we go…
Friday – Packet pickup and bike test ride
I didn’t arrive in Louisville until late Thursday night due to class and work constraints, so was unable to take advantage of early packet pickup. (rant) However, due to the annoyingly unbending policies of the IM organizers, my sister had to fly in from St. Louis Thursday AM, pick up her packet and fly back out that night to work on Friday. Due to her work schedule, which had been set weeks in advance, she was planning on working on Friday, not anticipating no packet pickup being allowed after Friday at 5PM for a Sunday race. She called and e-mailed race directors multiple times and they would not make any arrangements to help even with both my dad and myself racing too, so she had to make last minute arrangements to use her off day to make the day trip just for packet pickup, then turn around and drive back to Louisville Friday night. (end rant).
Back on track, I went to packet pickup right around when it opened Friday AM, only to discover that triathletes are go-getters. The line was long due to everyone lining up before it even opened; a practice that would be repeated at every IM activity throughout the weekend. I made my way through the various lines (body scan, waiver, packet pickup, swag bag, compulsory parade through the vendor booths) and got out of there as quickly as possible. As much as I like the electricity surrounding an event like this, I was glad to have my parents’ house to retreat to for some relaxation and to separate myself a multitude of tense athletes. The rest of Friday was nothing notable, I assembled my bike with full race get-up, did a quick (less than ½ hour) test ride with my dad, and caught up with some local friends for the most part. My sister arrived late that evening and we strategized a plan for the morning before heading to bed.
Saturday – Practice swim, gear bag/bike drop, and moving downtown
The morning began around 7:30 as we woke up, grabbed a quick bite, and headed downtown to the swim exit to test the waters. This was an important activity for me since I had been loaned a speed suit from a friend and had yet to test it at all. The results of the practice swim would determine whether or not I would use the suit race day. We arrived to a sizeable crowd all lined up before the scheduled start (surprise, surprise) and eventually made our way to the water. I didn’t do much structured swimming, mostly just swimming around and treading water a bit to see how warm the water felt and how I liked the suit. I was feeling very comfortable and relaxed in the water, a good sign. As we prepared to leave, I returned to my towel and sandals to find someone had stolen my shirt. It was a decent tech-shirt I used for running a lot, but I have more tech shirts than I know what to do with. To whoever has it now, I hope you needed it more than I did.
After the swim, we returned home to grab the rest of the family and checked out a local farmers’ market for brunch. It was delicious.
We returned home and got down to the business of gear bag prep. Since none of us had been through this process before, we worked through it as a team. Before we knew it, all was packed and it was back to downtown to say good-night to our bikes. The drop off process was very quick and efficient and the volunteers were great, explaining how the whole process would work the next day.
The rest of the afternoon was more relaxing at home, until evening when we packed up and moved downtown to the Galt house so to be closer to the action for the morning and post-race, a great idea on my mom’s part. We checked out the new O’Sheas Restaurant downtown and then were back to the hotel for bedtime. Having never stayed in the Galt House before, though, I did want to check it out a bit, so my wife and I did some exploration and rode in the glass elevators of the tower opposite the one we stayed in before returning to the room for the night.
Sunday –Race Day
Transition areas were scheduled to open at 5AM, so that’s when we planned to arrive, especially considering the swim start process and the line it creates. After doing all the paranoid checks of the bike (pushing on the tires, checking the gearing, etc) and loading up nutrition on the bike and in gear bags, it was time for the long walk to the swim start.
It’s about a mile or so to the “launching docs”, then another ¼ mile walk for us to get to the next open spot in line. It didn’t appear we’d be going anywhere for a while, so I sat on the sidewalk and tried to relax. At about 6:15, volunteers started asking for family members not racing to clear out and for us to compress the line. Some of the crazies had lawn-chairs and mini-camps setup near the front of line, so the compression moved us up a good amount. It seemed like people were getting serious, so I started removing my warm-up gear, putting the speed suit partially on, and taking in my last pre-race nutrition. This was also when I began noticing a rising need to use the restroom, but I passed it off as merely nerves. After some time standing nervously, there was some unclear announcing or music being played, and then a cannon shot…the pros were off, aka the 10 minute warning. A few minutes later I heard what I thought was the national anthem followed by another cannon. The race was started, and I stood there…waiting…then inching forward…more waiting. It was only a minute or two until the line started to move pretty steadily, but my impatience made it feel like a lifetime.
2.4 mile swim
Still in line at this point, but the line is picking up speed. It was kind of like a human locomotive. At the gun, there was a lot of noise, but no motion, then little by little it picked up steam to the point where we were basically jogging by the time we snaked around toward the docks. My dad, sister, and I exchanged last good lucks and reminded each other to have fun. We also spotted the family right at the start to grab photos and video of us jumping in. The volunteers shepherded us into one of the dock lines where I jogged across the timing mat, then out onto (and immediately off of) the dock and into the river. I swam a few quick strokes to make sure I was out of the way of subsequent jumpers then just settled into a pace. The goal for the swim was to make it comfortable and easy. I’m no speedy swimmer, so merely wanted to enjoy the swim and finish with plenty of energy. I steadily worked my way to the end of the island and was hoping to see the turn buoy soon. When I looked up, though, it was still a few hundred meters up river. Oh well, the current wasn’t strong anyways, so I continued plugging along, although not in a straight line since I could no longer sight off the island and can’t swim straight to save my life.
Upon reaching the turn buoy, I spun downriver and was greeted with a nice surprise. The rising sun provided great lighting for a view of downtown (ahead to my left) and the bridges crossing ahead of me. To the right, on the Indiana side of the river, there were 5 or 6 hot air balloons that had taken off near downtown and now filled the empty space in the sky. If only I had remembered my waterproof camera. Remembering that I was in a race, I got back to the business of swimming. Soon I was alongside Towhead Island again and was able to use it to sight through my now foggy goggles. Unfortunately I relied too heavily on the landmass for navigation and followed the curve of the island back toward shore as the buoy line continued straight down river. Luckily, a kayaker caught my attention and pointed out my error. Once back in the herd of swimmers, I made sure to keep people nearby for the rest of the swim.
The bridges passed quickly, and from there, I could see the exit, so I just steadily worked towards it. I had noticed through the course of the swim that I had shaken out most of the remaining nerves, but the need to use the restroom remained, in a big way. Thankfully swimming isn’t a very jarring activity (at least after the start), so I was able to deal with it, but it was an issue that would have to be addressed in T1. I climbed the exit steps with a mass of other athletes and saw my wife as I made my way to transition.
Time: 1:19:01
Transition 1
I quickly jogged in, grabbed my bag and hit the change tent. I only had to finish removing the speed suit and put on my DeSoto Coolwings, socks and other bike accessories (helmet, Garmin, etc.). It was a little difficult due to the wetness, but nothing terrible. What was terrible was the need to do my business, but the transition bathrooms were past the change tents, so I continued changing to not do things out of order, I guess. Anyways, I finished throwing extra nutrition in my pockets and putting on my helmet/sunglasses, THEN I left and hit the bathrooms. Being fully geared up for biking, including wearing an alien head aero helmet makes it difficult to navigate a port-o-john. I’m sure I looked like a joke, but hopefully I was able to at least give the volunteers around a laugh. Due to this “inefficiency”, I recorded an absurdly long transition time.
Time: 11:23
112 mile bike
Leaving for the bike, I hit the flats along River Rd and was immediately flying. I picked up on this mistake within the first couple miles and soon was cruising along at a more reasonable pace. I passed a lot of riders at my 20-21mph pace, and was passed by many more. From my regional short-course racing experiences, I haven’t been passed consistently throughout portions of a bike leg, so I found it to be a test of patience. If I have to grade my pacing for the first 15 miles or so, I’d give it a B. The focus was there, but subconsciously, I’m sure I upped the effort more than I should have.
As we climbed our way up 42 and into the outer suburbs and farmlands, the real ride began. This is also when I began to notice the heat. It was only about 10AM or so, and it was already hot, not a good sign. However, I just continued listening to my body and taking nutrition and water at regular intervals. I turned onto the out and back, the only portion of the course I was unfamiliar with, and also where we had been warned of the highest danger of wrecking by the RD. This section is essentially a flat for a mile or so, followed by a big dip and climb, then a turnaround, and repeat. The descent was a little treacherous as we weren’t far enough into the course to not be congested and people were descending at different rates due to bike handling and comfort levels. Quick passing on descents + riders 2-3 wide climbing in the opposite lane = increased danger. I just focused on keeping myself in order, and everything worked out fine. Before I knew it I was back to 42 and about to head on the double loop.
The first pass of the loop, I noticed my Infinit mix getting low. This was earlier than I’d planned on running through 1 bottle, but I wasn’t about to limit my intake in that heat, so I planned to stop and refill at an aid station just shy of 50 miles. This was not too far after the pass through LaGrange, which was great. Cheering crowds lined both sides of the road, an announcer called out names riding through, and it was flat and fast…a fun combination. When my energy started to wane a little toward the end of the first loop due to rollers and sun exposure, I just focused on getting back to LaGrange again.
My Infinit mix (~1250 calories, all told) was completely expended by mile 85 of the bike. It was supposed to last the entire ride, oops. At the ~mile 75 (the one with all the sidewalk chalk about riding waves) aid station I ditched the Infinit bottle and grabbed IM perform and a fresh…oh wait, scratch that, they were out of water. Apparently, this was a common story for later riders, so I consider myself lucky to have only missed water at this station. Either way, the miles to the next aid station were tough mentally since I was thinking a lot about not having water. Still, I was able to catch the mile 87 station stocked and grabbed 2 bottles of water to catch up on hydration. The next aid station wasn’t until just before the bike finish at mile 105, as we had been warned pre-race.
Despite the headwind for the remainder of the course, it was easy to motivate myself the rest of the ride. We passed the turn off for the loop, and I got a boost knowing I could ride straight past. Then I just checked off miles backtracking on the mostly downhill route back to River Rd. From there, it’s an easy flat ride back to transition and I made it with good time, although I wasn’t feeling comfortable on the bike anymore and was ready to be on my feet (or in a chair or bed, anywhere but a bike saddle) again. I shifted my position a lot those last few miles and also used the last aid station to try and get as much fuel and water in me before transition. As I pulled back into T2, I caught a large contingent of family members in bright yellow “Kissel Support Team” t-shirts. They were awesome the whole day.
Time: 5:44:08
Transition 2
This was not nearly as exciting as T1. I changed as quickly as I could despite quad spasms making me have to repeatedly stand up from the seat I was using to change. Otherwise, it was pretty routine, but longer than I’d hoped.
Time: 6:11
26.2 mile run (and walk)
As soon as I left for the run, heat was on my mind. I passed my BSM cycling team mates who jogged along the sidewalk for a block or so giving encouragement, then made my way out to the bridge. The lone “climb” of the run is the ramp up the bridge, and it was tame to say the least. Actually, after hitting the aid stations in both directions on the bridge and heading to the main out and back stretches of the course, I was feeling pretty strong physically, but not so much mentally. I was executing my run plan of running 8-9 min per mile pace from aid station to aid station, and walking through them while grabbing nutrition and drowning myself in sponge water. At the same time though, my motivation was low and my general mindset was just negative. I’m sure it was an effect of the heat and probably some sort of nutritional deficiency, but it sucked! I did get boosts from seeing friends on the course, but my internal drive was low. It felt like only the external influences of my support team were pushing me along. Thankfully, there were plenty of them.
I continued this way to the 8 mile turnaround, and was making great time at this point. After the turnaround though, I really moved to a dark place mentally. The running more often than not turned to walking and I kept searching for motivation. The hardest part about it was that I had read so much about “going to a dark place” during IM’s and I had expected it. Even during this point, I was aware of what was happening, but it didn’t give me much hope that I’d pull out. Still, I trudged on with some running and more walking, but no real pattern. I passed a friend of my dad who asked how I was doing, being as positive as I could, I responded “Still moving forward.” After passing him and thinking about my response, I started to perk up a bit. I was still moving ahead and, although progress was slow, I was closer to the finish every second. I slowly pulled out of my funk.
As I neared the turnaround, I bypassed special needs since all I had was a new pair of socks and some nutritional stuff. My feet were soaked, but not uncomfortable, and the aid stations had more than enough available. In fact, my stomach felt a little overloaded. The turnaround itself is a cruel creature on the run course. First the crowds pick up to give you a boost…then you turn onto 4th street and are actually running straight at the finish line and party (music, lights, everything)…then you turn away and start to make your way back out for 6+ miles, but as you turn the crowd continues to cheer so as to distract you from what’s really going on. The next thing you know, you’re a half mile from the finish running away from it and the crowd is gone…what have you just done!?! Obviously the crowd support is essential to keeping hundreds of athletes from quitting at the mid-point of the run, so they played their part beautifully.
Once I had been thoroughly tricked back onto the 2nd leg of the run, reality set in again and I was tired. I did a lot more walking mixed with some running, but at this point it was less a mental thing and more due to hamstring spasms that would almost knock me over after running a few hundred feet. I decided that if I had to walk, it would be at a decent pace. I started watching my Garmin and making sure I kept my walking pace under 15 min per mile, while also still testing out my running legs when I could. I passed more support team members, who continued to lift my spirits, this time with an enthusiastic, cheerleader-style spelling of my name. I also got lifts from passing my dad and sister (going the opposite direction) who were behind me on the course. Until I reached the turnaround for the final 7 mile stretch to the finish, time seemed to pass slowly, but once I made the turn I finally compromised with myself on a strategy to take me the rest of the way. As soon as I rounded the turn cone, I started jogging 100 steps and walking 50. Aid stations were still walked through as well, but the pattern would start again as soon as they were passed. I was amazed at how “fast” I was going from aid station to aid station and ticking off the miles when my mind was focused on just counting steps instead of dwelling on the distance remaining. By about 2 miles to go, my legs actually felt pretty strong and loose again, but I didn’t dare break from the pattern yet so as not to blow up in the home stretch. With about a mile to go, the crowd started to pick up. I made the turns over to 4th street and as soon as I found myself facing the finish with the crowd all down the street going crazy, adrenaline took over. Even with the crowds, I was able to spot members of our support team and gave some high-fives on the run in. As I entered the main chute under the 4th Street Live roof, I was basically sprinting (as much as I could manage) and couldn’t stop smiling. There was no one else in the chute at the time and although the lights of the finish were disorienting, I could hear the announcer talking about me. However, as I crossed the line, I didn’t catch the “you are an Ironman” announcement, but I wasn’t thinking about it either. I was focused only on the clock, which read a little over 12 hours. Knowing my start off-set for the swim was more than a few minutes, I figured sub-12 was in the bag. Earlier in the run I had all but given up on breaking 12, so that was extra excitement to bring me to the line.
Time: 4:34:16
FINISH TIME: 11:55:00
After crossing the line, I made my way in a daze through the chute with my catcher as he rounded up finisher gear for me, herded me to the photo op, and passed me to my wife. We began walking toward the convention center and food, but I stopped to talk to friends and family who were nearby.
After talking for about 2 minutes, I was overcome with dizziness and nearly passed out, so decided to make a break for medical where I got to hang out on a cot drinking chicken broth for a bit. I opted for no IV since I didn’t really want to hang out there for long. Once released, I grabbed some food and made my way back to the finish where I just sat (laid) on the ground upstairs for the next couple hours as my dad and sister made there way in. Once everyone was finished and regrouped, it was a short walk back to the hotel, a room service pizza, and bed. The Ironman was successfully completed.
