My Journey Through IMCHOO

I know this blog is going to be emotional. It is going to be rant-filled to an extent, unfiltered to an extent, and not necessarily politically correct when it comes to my current perception of IM as an organization or some of the decisions made about IMCHOO.


 For those who may not know, a standard Ironman event includes: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 run. These athletic feats are generally done from 7:00 a.m. to 12:00 a.m. or 17 hours. I write standard, because IMCHOO is anything but standard. We knew when we signed up that our time limit would be shorter. It was originally published at a 16:30 time limit. Okay. As it got closer to race time we saw that number shrink to between 16:20 - 15:45 depending on when you were able to get into the water. Ouch, but still optimistic. Even closer to the actual race, athletes find out that the bike course is actually 116 miles. Some even report that the bike route is 116.68 miles. The negative outcry from athletes caused the race organizers to extend the bike cutoff from 6:00 p.m. to 6:15 p.m. and the race end from 12:00 a.m. to 12:15 a.m. From an athlete's point-of-view, I would have liked to have seen the full 17 hour time limit, common for IM events, plus the extra 15 minutes for the extra distance.

I've gotten a little ahead of myself. This adventure started in early Sept. 2013, when we decided to commit to this race. By a stroke of luck, we both were able to get registered after the FUBAR that is Active.com and mass registrations. The registration website servers crashed due to volume. Teresa was entered and I was stuck in a digital queue for hours before I was officially registered. The race sold out in minutes, but ultimately we both got into the race. We developed a training plan. We incorporated all of the local and destination races we wanted into a year long swimming, biking, and running adventure. Week in and week out we exercised 5-6 days a week with morning swims, evening runs, and century bicycle rides. Admittedly, we did slack off some during the heat of the summer. By some stoke of luck we avoided injury until August. I developed a neuroma (nerve) issue in my right foot and in September I think I fractured a rib on my left side. The last couple of weeks before IMCHOO was some major recovery time. On September 28 I felt calm, confident, healthy, and ready.

Final equipment checks

Final bike checks

Pre-race photo outside of Transition - 4:25 a.m.

The Swim

I found a snooze button.
5:00 a.m.

We went to practice to get a feel for the borderline wetsuit optional swim. The water was 76 degrees for practice. I went without a wetsuit and it was perfect. I completed 3 practice laps at an estimated 0.25 miles each. No side/rib issues. No issues with temperature. Water was great.

The morning of, we were in line for the swim by 5:00 a.m. We were easily 200 yards from the front of the line. We think we were in the water within 2 minutes of the age-grouper's start time.
I jumped in right behind Teresa without hesitation or nerves. I started swimming. I managed to almost run into the first buoy, but after that it was smooth sailing. Even the dead body they found in the river across from swim exit didn't ruin the swim for me. (http://www.newschannel9.com/news/top-stories/stories/body-found-floating-tenn-river-during-ironman-competition-12980.shtml). My official swim time is 1:02:08. I felt strong coming out of the water and jogged up the incline into the transition area. Without my glasses I completely blew by my gear bag and made two full lengths of the gear-bag pickup area which delayed me into the changing tent.

We swam under this bridge with a dead body, apparently.

T1

Placing the bike gear bag

I can't make fun of Teresa's color
coded packing list anymore

This was my first time in a transition area like this, the concept of the gear-bag was pretty new. I could have shaved some time by packing things a little better. Teresa's meticulous packing was spot on. I had all the supplies I needed, but they weren't laid-out or prepped as well as they could be. I also think as was photographed naked. I didn't realize the chair I chose yielded a clear line of sight to the crowd. You're welcome, ladies. 0:12:58. Lesson learned.

The Bike

I had some concerns about the bicycle portion of this race. We knew there was some significant climb on the route. We knew it was going to be long. I made the decision a month ago that I didn't want a computer or a watch for this event because I didn't want to keep watching the time and get frustrated. I wasn't 100% about my bicycle seat adjustments. I didn't want to push so much that I didn't have any energy for the run.

I felt good during the first lap. The hills didn't feel as "rolling" as I hoped. The bicycle isn't my strongest discipline, but I felt comfortable on my bike and my nutrition plan was working well. Miraculously, I didn't have any mechanical issues even with oil and tacks on the course (http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2014/sep/28/chattanooga-ironman-bike-course-sabotaged-tacks-an/).

I stopped at an aid-station to use the bathroom and then continued to the Special Needs area. After I left the bike special needs at about mile 53, I didn't feel like I was moving nearly as fast. I'm not sure if it was a wind shift  or just a slow climb along 341 back to Hwy 193. My second lap went much the same. I fought along 193, cruised Hog Jowl Rd, and ebbed and flowed to Chickamauga. Again, I stopped to use the restroom. Rain started at about my 80 mile mark. The stretch from Chickamauga to 193 and back to the bike finish felt never ending. Rain fell a little harder. The final stretch was testing. I wondered if I would make the cutoff. I wondered if I would realistically have enough time to finish a marathon before 12:15 a.m. My best marathon to date is about 5 hours 30 minutes, and that was well rested and about 7 months ago. I was relieved that the clock said it was only about 5:35 p.m. when I pulled into T2. My right foot was hurting, but otherwise I was feeling good, with renewed hope. My official bike time is 8:47:01. I expected it to take 7:30:00. This put me behind by a large margin.

T2

My bag was blinged with Marvel duct tape

I found my bag with ease.

I had my own volunteer. This transition went smoother but I still had the disorganization and light lack of prep. I could have shaved some time by packing things a little better. I had all the supplies I needed, but they weren't laid-out or prepped as well as they could be. 0:8:39. I ran into Teresa's parents just out of transition and got a status report about her. She was 1:45:00 ahead. She was doing great!

The Run

I did very well on the bike as far as nutrition was concerned. My combination of Water, Perform, Salt, Peanut MMs, Huma Energy Shots, Core Power Chocolate Milk, and Uncrustables on the bike kept me level. I started the run with two more uncrustables. The first mile was slow run/walking.

Emotionally, the last 15 minutes of the bike and
the first 15 minutes of the run were hardest.
It was the only time I had a dark mood.

I passed Teresa at that 1st water-stop. She was at her mile 8. She was a sight for sore eyes. I kept run/walking. My legs were tight and wouldn't loosen up. Mile 2 was much of the same. My plan going into the run was to run from one water stop to the next. I stopped at about 2.5 miles for a restroom break. When I came out I was able to meet up with Robert. He was approaching his mile 16; I was approaching mile 3. His enthusiasm was a great pick-me-up. He offered to run some intervals with me. I accepted and pushed out 2 minutes with him and a 30 second walk. That was all it took. My legs were back. My pace was still significantly slower than his so I thanked him and he was off.  After that I jogged. From mile 3 to mile 11. Then I walked up one, big hill. Then I jogged again until my run special needs bag at 13.5. I was delayed trying to restock my nutrition and down some IB profin. Then I jogged again, from 13.5 to 21.5. At approximately 11:05 p.m. I was pulled from the course. I was told I didn't make the 22 mile cutoff (or over the bridge by 10:50 p.m.). I've been crunching numbers all morning. I didn't have a watch so I had to rely on others, volunteers, for information toward the end of the night. When I was stopped I was told it was 11:05 p.m. and I was at 21.5 miles and the route was closed. After 15 minutes of standing, waiting for a race official, and then pleading for the chance to continue we were told we would have to turn in our chips and sign a wavier to continue. It didn't matter if we could complete the remaining distance before 12:15 a.m. Our race was over. I was at about 15:30:00 on the course. The others in my same position were at 15:00:00 because of their wetsuit delay during the swim. We were all disappointed and pissed because we all were looking strong and could have finished.

Reflection

It's no secret that I am bitter for being pulled from the race an hour and ten minutes before the actual end. My pace was such that I feel I could have made it before the 12:15 a.m cutoff. I feel like I was robbed of that final 4.7 miles - that time when I could have dug even deeper and successfully finished a year-long obsession.

I want to make it clear, I take complete responsibility for my performance. I had a rough bicycle ride and it set me back about an hour from my estimates. I was having a great run. I simply would have appreciated the chance to finish what I started. When I came around the corner and saw the gator blocking the route, my heart sank. I still felt strong and was running a consistent pace at 21.5 miles and 11:05 p.m. The miles were ticking down, and I was moving forward.

My night ended at 11:05 p.m. I fought the urge to quit after the bike. I fought during the run. With existing data, I figured I was on the course for 15 hours and 34 minutes.  It was a long day of perpetual motion and my body took it in stride. More importantly, my mind took it. I didn't rage-out on the bike when I was noticeably slower than I should be; I didn't get angry during the run. If I felt like I was about to go dark, mood-wise, I ate or drank something. I stayed level the entire day. Deep breaths, in and out, and kept moving forward.

Day before, close to swim exit and run start

 It was a perfect day for the event. The water was PERFECT. The weather on the bike, first lap, was overcast with slight wind. The second lap was overcast, light/moderate rain, and increased wind, but temperatures stayed comfortable and the humidity was not even noticeable, at least when compared to home. The run was overcast, then dark. Light wind, I think. I was never cold and always comfortable. It really couldn't have been any better weather.

I can't say enough positive things about the volunteers and the community.

And after the race we bought cloud cakes, star crunches,
granola bars, nutty bars, and powdered donuts...
and began to eat them...all.

I am also very grateful to Little Debbie as a sponsor. They were great! I would have liked to have seen more of there snacks available during the run, but I think they took a more cautious approach to the sponsorship because of some athlete backlash upon the title sponsor announcement. Teresa and I took the time to visit their main bakery store and talked to some of the employees. It was apparent that Little Debbie as a company has a positive, exercise focused culture. Kudos to them for supporting exercise and the community!

Would I recommend an Ironman event to someone else? That depends. Ultimately, I'd do this again so I can conquer the route. If I had my choice between brands of race, I would probably pick a different one. I understand IM is the biggest player in the sport. I can appreciate that you have to pay, and for all intensive purposes, the good out-weighed the bad in this race, even with the revolving changes in time/deadlines and course/routes. Unfortunately, my final memory of an otherwise good day was negative. I could have finished in the time allotted, and I will finish next time.

I do take solace in knowing that some of the money goes toward a very good cause, research for Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis - two painful, debilitating, and seldom-discussed digestive diseases (http://www.ccfa.org/)

My psychology background, and my wife tells me, to expect navigating the 5 stages of grief to deal with the emotional turmoil associated with not finishing.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

I quickly moved through Denial but banged around Anger, Bargaining, and Depression over the last couple of days. I think I am at Acceptance, but I do get teary every time I read comments. I can't thank everyone enough for the well wishes and support for the last year and over the course of the event.


This blog has been cathartic. I hope it was a good read. Always KEEP MOVING FORWARD.



Will I do another one? Yes, 2015.