On Mar 3 at Ironman NZ 2007, I realized one of the biggest goals of my life: a sub-13 hour Ironman finish – 12:46:43 to be exact!
This was my third Ironman and the most fulfilling. While training for my first, IM Canada 2000, Sue Black (a very talented triathlete that I had the chance to run with a couple of times) asked me what time I was hoping for. I knew that trying to predict a time for something you’ve never done before is like shooting mosquitos in the dark, but I looked at my individual event times (at shorter distances) and believed that if I could last the day, I was capable of around 13 hours.
Primarily though, I was like most age-groupers, just looking to finish. Any other goals for your first Ironman are icing on an already impressive piece of cake – 140.6 miles; 226.28 kilometers! That’s a big cake!
I finished IM Canada in 14:26. I was very happy at completing IM since I’ve never really been an athletic person. I started running half way through university to try to stay healthy and at the time, my 22 minute route run at 10 pm were the longest runs of my life. (I also told myself that it was 5 kms enough times that I started to believe it, but I never actually measured the course.)
Yes, I did swim in high school for three years, where I went from a non-swimmer (first practice was 4 lengths of a 20 yard pool, dog-paddle; severe leg cramps took over after that, so that’s all I was able to muster in a one hour period) to a second-string 50 yard swimmer – my fastest time being 26.2 seconds – with a dive, a flip-turn, two breaths, and a man with a stern look and mustash looking on with some pride at the building of another successful (although far from his best) swimmer. That man of course is Coach Witiuk.
Witiuk’s patience (tolerance?) with me (and his desparation to take in even logs that floated well disguised as kids in swim cap, goggles, and speedo) and the support of my closest friends (most of whom were first-string swimmers) including Frank, Sandy, the other Sandy, Robin, Dean, Claudio, Paul, Tino, George, Trevor, … , helped me to stick with swimming where I learned a lot more than the basics of moving through water.
I learned that on a team, everybody is important. We sometimes won swim meets by just a single point – proving what Coach Witiuk preached: EVERYBODY on this team is important. We need each other. We need to put 100% into practices. We need to show up for practices (in early, cold water) because when we don’t show up/perform it affects the entire team – our team. Witiuk said that if you produce your fastest time in practice, he’d be happy. He knew that at competitions, with the excitment, the adrenaline, you can sometimes pull out a bit more, but still wanted to ensure that when you showed up for swim practice, you gave it your all. Don’t walk away (from anything) thinking you could have done more. Don’t walk away unfulfilled.
When I cramped up during the bike leg at about 110km at IM Canada, it was a minor success for me. I had never gone that long without the severe leg cramps (quads – inner/outer, hamstrings, claves). I struggled into T2 and starting hopping, limping, and even doing some (gasp!) running for 42 kms to finish my first Ironman – something just years before, I thought was so far beyond me that I didn’t even dare dream.
That dream started to materialize in 1999 when I did my first half IM – in Peterbourgh in 5:47. Cramping had already forced me to a walk, but even as Frank took 2 minutes off me, I was estatic because I knew that I could do this. My preparation for the 1/2 IM was training with Declan as he targetted his first IM at Lake Placid, later that year. I’d be sore, tired (and out of chocolate almonds), but this Postman always rang twice, or as long as it took to get me out of bed into the snow, cold rain, and humidity of the Toronto area to push myself into physical and mental states I did not know existed. Declan showed me that if I really, really wanted to do an Ironman, I could do it.
Did I question being able to finish IM Canada? All day long. From the swim, to the bike, through all the calculations being done as midnight approached in the marathon; yes there were questions. The day before, Derek told me: Sham, no matter what, you will not quit. That was important. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until the cramps starting comming. Can I deal with this for over another 100 kms? Of course I can – because I will not quit!
This seems like a lot of lead up for a race summary for IM New Zealand 2007, but I believe that doing an IM event doesn’t make you an Ironman. You are made into an IM by focusing, being selfish with your time, sacraficing social events, depending on the strength of your relationships with family and friends to understand and EVEN encourage you to go and build mind & body so that on IM day, all those efforts are justified by a solid day. On paper, you become an Ironman when the medal is put around your neck after crossing the finish line, but in reality, a few weeks previous to the Ironman event, as you start your taper, paraphrasing coach Fiona of NRGPT, the hard work is already done.
After the high of finishing IM Canada passed (and believe me, I stretched this out as long as possible) I started asking why it took me so long to finish: about 1.5 hrs slower that I believed I could go. The cramping. I have to learn to deal with the cramping. Declan pushed me hard and that got me to IM, so I guess that I just needed to push harder to get the IM time I wanted. I had to work on my weakness. Witiuk had given me the foundation to be a decent triathlon swimmer and for some reason, I could pull off decent runs, but the bike – I hate the bike! I must push harder! (Yeah, I think you can see where this is going.)
In July 2002, I did IM Lake Placid, but I barely remember it. I was working long (and strange) hours at OpenCola and just couldn’t give Lake Placid the attention it deserved. I lacked focus. I wasn’t really surprised that it took 15.5 hrs to finish and if I could have, I would have opted not to do that race, but the entrance fee was sent (a year prior), and Derek helped to keep me motivated by keeping it light. Do what you can, when you can.
Lake Placid came and went. I had trained by myself for most of it and that wasn’t a good experience. I wanted to throw up everytime I saw the bike. I figured Ironman really was outside my reach. Then, I met a girl.
On my first ride with her (60 km), I tried to show off on the bike by demonstrating how hard I could push – how much pain I could endure. As I started up a long hill, sweat and tears mixed, my quads were on fire. Joanna lowered her gear and spun up and away from me like Lance Armstrong. She didn’t give me “The Look” and there was no pride in it; she just enjoyed riding her bike and was good at it.
Over time, riding with Joanna, I learned to stop beating myself up on the bike. I no longer started rides with legs so stiff that I need both arms to push me out of the car to get the bike (no exaggeration). I learned to work WITH the bike; I learned to be smooth; I learned to smile (sort of) on rides and I started to suspect, ever so slightly that I could get through an IM ride (180 kms) without cramping.
Obviously I was still thinking about IM; not Lake Placid, but of Canada. I was not fulfilled. I didn’t give IM Canada 100%. Coach Witiuk’s words came back to me.
I needed the opportunity. I needed the excuse. I needed to find my focus again. I wanted another shot at putting in 100% at IM and walking away with a 13 hr IM that I know I can do. Then I met a girl – who at this point, we really should call my fiancee – seeing as though she was wearing an engagement ring.
“Sham, do you want to go to New Zealand?”
“No.”
“Sham, do you want to go to New Zealand?”
“No.”
“Sham, do you want to do Ironman New Zealand?”
“Excuse me?”
Plans were made, contracts were signed, witnesses were involved (did she really say, “I do.”?), Lactic Acid blood tests were done and reluctantly, I admitted that I needed help to achieve my IM goal. Now, living in New Zealand, NRGPT (through Fiona), Joanna, and myself launched a three person plan over an 11 month period to build an Ironman.
Next Entry: Training and The Swim
As we drove into Taupo on Thursday Mar 1, I didn’t have the apprehension that I felt in early December when Joanna and I had come to ride one loop of the IM NZ course (90 km). This last week I was continually reflecting back on all the training that I had done and everytime I asked whether there was more I could have done, the answer was an almost convincing, “No”. Was I ready for Ironman on Saturday? I don’t know if anybody is ever really ready to return to so much pain, but I did go in with the confidence knowing that I had trained as much as my tired (and now very slim, 146 lbs) body would let me.
My longest runs (up to 3 hrs) were starting to risk over use injury and my longest rides (up to 6.5 hrs) were testing my sanity. I could have swam longer, but concidering that I was expecting to spend less than 10% of my race time at the swim portion, there was more value in trying to improve my bike and/or run splits. After 11 months of training in 4 week increments (3 incremental build weeks, 1 recovery/adaption week), I had developed physically, and more importantly, mentally to the point that I was sure I could do a 13 hour IM. Now, I just needed to execute – smartly.
(With more training/adapting I’m know I can go faster, especially on the bike, but I need my body to adapt to the changes that I’ve already put it through. Am I hinting at doing another one? Well, it’s now 5 days after the race and I’m no longer limping …)
I knew the key for me to realize my goals would be nutrition. Fiona (my coach from NRGPT) had demonstrated (several times because I was a bit hard-headed at first) that I needed to keep my body fueled properly to last on the longer workouts. You don’t have to be very smart to do an olympic distance triathlon (1.5km, 40km, 10km). Some Gaterade, water, a Powerbar and perhaps a gel will give you the quick energy your body asks for and before you know it, the race is over.
For longer distances, 1/2 Ironman, full Ironman (3.8km, 180km, 42.2km), you need to constantly think about the fuel you need and how best to replenish it. And of course, you can’t follow a generic nutrition plan because all of our bodies are different. For example, I need salt. I popped 3-4 salt tablets every hour while on the bike and run … and it wasn’t even that hot – 25, 260C! No wonder I cramped so badly in the other Ironmans and at Peterbourgh 1/2’s. I wasn’t paying attention to what I needed.
The funny thing is that as you work out longer and get tired, you also get mentally lazy. Logically, it makes sense that you should continue to fuel up, but you just don’t want to – I typically hit this ugly state at about 4.5 hrs on the bike. You have to force it down sometimes. And, that is what I learned during the long rides and runs. I needed to eat more and fuel REGULARLY, regardless of where my mind had wondered off too. I needed to stick the to nutrition plan.
Fiona was able to guide me through that educational process because I had done Lactic Acid blood tests on the bike and treadmill with NRGPT before leaving Canada, so she knew how high I could take my heart rate and still stay in the areobic zone. The heart rate monitor, my perceived effort levels and my honesty about which workouts I cut short or skipped all together were fed back to Fiona via the web (recall that she’s in Toronto). That, combined with Fiona’s own experience as an exceptional Ironman triathlete and coach were the data set used to plan and adjust my workouts.
I was very pround of being able to finish an Ironman (Canada 2000, Lake Placid 2002) without coaching, but this time around, I wanted to make the best use of my time. To accomplish that, I needed the unbiased, objective point of view that is difficult to find within after 4.5 hrs on my weakest event.
To get the most out of your time:
Get a coach that has gone through what you want to go through.
Be totally honest with her.
Do the Lactic Acid test so she has and idea of how your body deals with lactic acid.
Bonus: Have your wife do 90% of the workouts with you so that she’s on your case about your nutrition plan!
Okay, with all this pretty well executed, I woke up early all week so that come Saturday Mar 3, a 4am alarm wouldn’t seem so bad. Typical of pre-race night, I didn’t have the best sleep on Friday night – too much running through my mind. This really wasn’t that important as my body was well rested. I knew what to expect and I knew that my training would take me to the finish line. I did NOT think about time at any point on Saturday until 6:45pm, on the run, 11 kms away from the finish line. (More on that later.)
Time for me was irrelevant. Being an outdoor race, there are so many factors that could affect your race that it’s best just to stick to your race plan (thank you, NRGPT), live in the moment and do the best you can with the cards you are delt. On race day, the deck delt to 1100 athletes was a good one: 200C water, somewhat overcast, very little wind, little humidity and a decent temperature, only reaching a high of around 250C.
I wasn’t nervous at all. Fiona had me do short, light sets of all three events on Friday, the day before the race. Initially I thought that was crazy. Shouldn’t it be saved for the race? Won’t I get tired? No, if you are ready for an IM, moving your body around the day before barely registers. Strangely enough, it settled me.
While I did these light sets on Friday, I thought about what pace I would be comfortable at, what I will use for sighting in the water, which way the current was flowing. On the bike, I made sure the bike computer was working, set to the cadence display (instead of time), felt the rough chip-sealed road I would be riding on and did one hill. For the run, I listened to and felt my breathing, checked my turn-over, looked at my heart-rate monitor.
Ironman New Zealand 2007
On race morning, as I hugged and left Joanna with an emotional tear, I was confident and calm. That’s a good way to start a long day. That’s what 11 months of focus, sacrifice, my coach, my wife, and the good will and wishes of all my family and friends 14,000 kms away had given me. Now I just had to execute – smartly.
As the athletes finished their warm-up swims and just before the 7am start, a Maori war canoe with about 25 traditonally dressed warriors encircled us. They beached and issued the Haka challenge in our honour. It was inspiring. The Haka challenge is issued at the Olympic & Commonwealth games, and international Rugby competitions. When I first arrived in NZ, I felt the Haka was abused, it’s significance was being diluted, so I made fun of it a little. Not today. Today I respected it. Today, it focused me and steeled me for the long day ahead.
Following my race plan, I stayed to the far left from the floating bouys that marked our single clockwise lap of the rectangular 3.8 km course. I positioned my self in about the middle of the pack so that when the starter’s gun went off (NZ Army), I quickly found some clear water and focused on long, complete strokes, keeping my head down, rotating well to narrow my profile as I tried to swim through (not against) the clear waters of Lake Taupo. I tried drafting a couple of times, but found that I was too inexperienced at drafting to do it efficiently, so I gave that up to enjoy the swim.
Swimming out to the furthest point (1775m + 75m – see map) seemed to take quite a while, but the way back home felt quick and easy. I swallowed a little bit of water now and then, but since it was fresh water, it wasn’t a big deal. (Last week Joanna did a 3.8 km ocean swim and after that experience, she wishes that all swims were in Lake Taupo!) There was a slight current (noted yesterday) helping us home, but other than the turbulance that we were causing, the lake was flat.
A 400m uphill run got us to transition (T1). I took advantage of my run and passed a few people into T1’s change tent, but I wasn’t pushing. The race doesn’t really begin until the second half of the bike and even then, the only thing I was really racing against was myself. Some crazy Canadian blond girl was screaming excitedly about her “Hon’s” great swim time, and feeling a little cocky about my 1:08:28 swim, I flashed her a smile – I’ll see you later, Baby!
I took my time in T1 getting out of my wetsuit (new top of the line BlueSeventy Helix model – wetsuit of the year award – Joanna got one as well) and into my cycling gear (race suit was already on under my wetsuit), made sure I ate my banana (as planned), popped a couple of salt pills, put 2 bars & 2 gels in my pockets (on your back as you cycle), got sprayed with sunscreen (very important because of NZ’s summer UV index of 10+) and troted off to my bike, counting racks to ensure that I went down the right isle.
Next entry: The Bike.
IM NZ Part 3:
I calmly unracked my bike, briskly walked to the bike mount line on the road (not much value in running 20 yards in a 13hr day) and headed off on the 180 km ride that started with a short downhill, then less than 5 minutes uphill north-east out of Taupo.
This is where I had to be careful. During the bike leg on my last two Ironmans, I cramped up so severely (at different times) that I was forced off the bike to stretch, and even after that, every uphill effort reminded me that something was amiss physiologically. That something, discovered through long training rides and runs, turned out to be a combination of several things:
I needed to eat more
I neeed salt suplements
I neeed to take in more fluids
Fiona had given me some base recommendations to work with every hour:
60-80g of carbs via Powerbars & gels
1 litre of fluid (electrolyte & water)
2 or more salt tablets
As I said before, this plan gets more difficult to maintain after being in the seat for a while, but I was adamant that nutrition was NOT going to be the reason for a less than stellar day. All week I had been telling Joanna that nutrition was going to be the key and I adapted that mantra for the rest of the day. Everytime my mind wondered (oh, hello Mr. Cow/Sheep on the farms that lined the bike course), my neck hurt from breaking the areo position to look forward, or the slight headwind felt like the weather man was conspiring against me, I chanted, “Nutrition is the key.” and re-evaluated to verify that I was sticking to the nutrition plan that had proven itself through all those long training days.
Surprisingly, I was actually confident that I would finish the ride without cramping. I had done several rides beyond 6 hours and had not cramped, so I was not expcting them this time around, as long as I continued to execute smartly. The first loop was enjoyable (as they always are). I kept my cadence high (90-100 rpm), watched my heart rate to ensure that I never pushed beyond zone 3 (actually, I barely spent any time in zone 3 – mostly in zones 1 & 2, meaning that I should be able to ride quite a bit faster), and remembered what coach Fiona had written down in my race plan – focus on having a good run.
Thinking about all that helped the time to pass away very quickly so that 90km into the bike ride, circuling the town, I was plesently distracted by that crazy Canadian girl again making a lot of noise with her tamborine: “You look great, Hon! Keep it up!” Yeah. Yeah! I did look great! And, I felt great. (But mostly, I looked great!) Okay, relax fancy-boy, all that is Ironman is just about to begin and I was not quite at the 1/2 way point yet.
The bike course is relatively flat with a couple of small rises (I hesitate to call them hills), but is challenging because of the rough chip-sealed roads, instead of the smooth asphalt you find on roads in southern Ontario. There were several athletes that flatted-out (primarily on the first loop) because their tire pressure was too high and they hit one or another particularly rough patch too hard. Because I had ridden the course back in December, I knew what to expect and my new bike (2007 Giant OCR 1 with carbon seat- & chain-stays) really helped to absorb the vibrations caused by the road.
In December at the Rotorua 1/2 IM (where I achieved my personal best 1/2 IM time of 5:34, chased by Joanna’s 5:38, whew!), I used my areo drinking system that is attached at the front of your bike and held in place by two large rubberbands between the areo bars. The chip-sealed roads had the drinking system bouncing around, and chattering so much that it was annoying and distracting. I could have taped it down for IM, but I decided to avoid the whole situation by just relying on my two bike frame water bottles that I would swap at aid stations as necessary. The bike aid stations were about 15 kms apart and I could get electrolyte mix (Poweraid) or water as necessary. This was also where I picked up Powerbars and Gels and just for variety, some Bonita bananas.
How do I know they were “Bonita” bananas? Bonita has been the main sponsor of IM NZ for the last few years, so from the time we entered Taupo, Bonita bananas were practically thown at you. I suspect that after IM, there were a lot of muffins baked in Taupo. In fact, if they were smart, the weekend after IM, Taupo should hold “The Great Bonita Muffin” celebration!
The first half of the second loop (kms: 90-135) was the toughest part of the bike for me. I was getting tired, and riding into a noticable (but slight) headwind, resulting in a slower pace. Others were starting to feel the effort as well as I started to pass a couple of people that had obviously gone out way too hard on the first loop. According to Joanna, I did my first loop in about 3:10, my second about 3:45, meaning that I also didn’t do a very good job of pacing myself, so those few that I passed on my second loop where going to be in for a very long day.
At about 130 kms, just before the turn around to head back to town, I passed a fellow about my age who was obviously having a tough time. The road continued to be flat, but he was in and out of the saddle all the time, trying to find the most comfortable position and stretching as many parts of his body that he could while maintaining forward momentum on the bike. I know that state. All long distance cyclists have been there. I felt compelled to give him some encouraging words as I cycled past by letting him know that we were all starting to hurt, but if we raced at our own pace, and fueled properly, we would all be ironmen before the midnight cut-off. (I suspect that I was actually talking to myself.)
I knew that the turn around was comming soon and after that I would just be riding home to put the bike away and switch to running. I didn’t want to say, “Start the MARATHON” because I just didn’t need that mental image at the time. I just had to start running for a bit. Nice and light, as Joanna said countless times as I headed off for my 1/2 hr runs after long training rides on Saturdays, as scheduled by the Evil Princess Fiona. Today is just like a long training day that I’ve been through before. Thus, the lies started.
When I woke up from those thoughts, I realized that I was already on the way back. The last part of the bike. No cramping in sight, a slight headwind (yeah, it was on the way back as well, which means that it was probably a cross-wind on the way out) and all I had to do to finish my 180 kms was continue to fuel properly, watch my cadence (which was starting to slip into the mid to low 80s) and stay positive. This is my day. This is the day I had been dreaming of and training for, for the last 11 months. This is the day that my coach, my wife, my family and friends, have prepared me for. This is their gift to me and I WILL ENJOY THIS DAY!
I had no idea what the time of day was. I had no idea how long I had been racing. My wrist watch displayed my heart-rate; my bike computer displayed cadence. I used these two feedback mechanisms to make sure that I stayed in a place where I had learned through training that I could maintain optimum efficiency. The last 15 kms on the bike seemed to take forever and my bike computer feel off at 170 km, forcing me to stop (for the first time, bathroom breaks were, ummmm … improvised) to go and pick it up.
On (literally) wobbling legs, I quickly got back on my bike before the ambulance that had seen me stop could approach me to ask if I was okay – I’m sure I looked like a boneless chicken trying to cross the road, but this was my day. No one was going to stop me on my day! I’ve worked too hard and too long for this! (If you ever wondered why people push themselves into obvious distress (marathons, …) for no apparent reason, this is why. I wasn’t anywhere near that state, but I was starting to get mentally tough, determined to complete my Ironman. Yes, it was no longer The Ironman; it was my Ironman! All other athletes and even the count-down timer to the midnight cut-off had become irrelavant. I was doing MY Ironman!)
The last 10 kms on the bike seemed to take forever, but thankfully it was downhill into town so that our loved ones were fooled into thinking that all was happy-happy, joy-joy. I handed off my bike to a volunteer, and entered T2’s change tent while mentally celebrating completing goal #1: Getting of the bike without cramping! If this was all I was going to get today (and a finish of course), then I had accomplished my primary goal. However, this story gets better, much better!
I switched out of my Lance Armstrong yellow “7” cycling sox that Eva had given me, into my running sox and shoes, and finally removed my bike helmet (safety first, you know). Immediately outside the tent, I popped some more salt-pills (I think I’m addicted at this point), had some water and tried unsuccessfully to convince a volunteer to switch places with me. I ran up and over the make-shift bridge to start the run, but took a quick stop to lay a stinky, sweaty kiss on Joanna (heh-heh-heh, that was fun, I’ll have to do that again!) and trotted off to find my rythm as I engaged my running muscles. There was a spectator a little further down that saw my romantic interlude and commented, “That’ll keep ya motivated, Mate!”
We looped around town, then back along the main highway, past that Canadian strumpet again, who I noticed for the first time had become quite popular because of her obvious bias towards all 30 Canadian athletes in particular, but cheering for anybody that needed to hear a friendly voice, and finding my groove, steeled myself for the marath…, ummm, the nice, light run.
(Oh, for you guys out there, I’m the one with the “603” on his race belt; not the one in the red bikini top!)
Next entry: The Run
Ironman NZ 2007 – Part 4: The Run and Finish
I was running comfortably and started to pick off some people. This was very encouraging (and what I was hoping for), but I tried not to get too excited and kepted everything in control – a light quick turnover (as much as I could muster), watching my heart rate to make sure it didn’t spike. The run route is gently rolling with just the occasional hill to wake you up. Two loops of this course meant that I had to run about 10 kms out, return, then do it all over again, but I tried not to think that far ahead. Run smart now, keep fueling properly and let the training take over. There was no noticeable wind, the sun was still up and because my race suit has CANADA stamped over the chest (thanks for the suit, Joanna and Kelly), I was making a lot of fans.
The spectators really want everybody to do well, so having anything on your suit that helps them to identify you will make their cheers much more personal – “Go Canada. Looking good, Canada. You’re doing it, Canada. …” I even got a couple of “Canada, we love you!”, but by the time I could identify whether it was girls or guys showing me the love, my legs (on autopilot) made sure that I was far enough away, that stopping to chat was not really an option.
There was a general incline out of town, so coming back should have felt a little easier, but of course you were on slightly more tired legs. Like Ironman Canada and Lake Placid, fans lined the entire run course. As I ran through one of the neighbourhoods, there was a 3 year old boy on his front lawn holding out a water hose so that runners could cool themselves off by running under it. He was looking a bit sad because no body was running through his waterflow (he was slightly off the best line), so I decided to cut in a bit to get a sprinkle … on my shoes. He saw me coming, got a bit excited and tried to lift the hose, but it was a bit heavy for him, so the only thing that got wet were my shoes. Oh, well, they must reak by now, anyway.
The run back into town felt great. My quads were starting to complain, but I was continuing to pass people and knew I would have a decent first half marathon. Yes, I finally admitted the full distance to myself. Just like the bike, the hardest part of the run was from the ½ way mark to the ¾ mark.
Physically, you’d expect the last 10kms or so of the marathon to be the toughest, and indeed, it probably was, but as Joanna had discovered during my 11 month Ironman journey, at least half of Ironman is mental. I’m sure my body had enough of this workout thing several hours ago, but my mind had a few goals, one of which was already accomplished (finish bike without cramping), and I may just be on my way to another – a sub 13 hr finish, but even at the the ½ way point in the marathon, I had no idea what time it was, so a finishing time estimate was just starting to materialize. I stayed true to my race plan, and just focused on having a good run using my mantra to keep me running smart: Nutrition is the key.
It would have only taken the push of one button on my watch to switch from displaying the my heart rate to the time of day, but I was Zen. I was in a good place – the race was going well, everybody was cheering me on, I smiled and thanked as many volunteers and supporters as I could, and I really didn’t want to leave that mental state just to find out how close I was to a somewhat arbitrary finishing time. I was having the race of my life, one I was hoping for since 2000. I was sure to finish before the midnight cut-off and there was no need let an external factor like the time of day interrupt my Ironman.
Starting back out of town, just as I passed Joanna again, my quadriceps seized up. The pain is excruciating and many of you have seen me (in the pool, cycling or running), try to use playful-Shammie-mode to downplay just how much my leg cramps hurt. Sometimes I let it get the best of me and I get frustrated, but not this time. This time I had a plan. Cramping is a physiological effect.
I had mis-judged my nutritional needs:
My muscles need oxygen
Oxygen is carried to my muscles by water
I need salt tabets to make sure I can absorb the water
And, I need food (in this case Powerbars and Gels) to give me energy to burn with the delivery of the oxygen.
So, somewhere along this very long day, I had mis-calculated. I didn’t panic. At the start of the run in December at my ½ IM (where I posted a PB!), I also cramped up at the start of the run, but I stopped, stretched for a couple of minutes, slowed the pace down quite a bit and got back on the nutrition plan, eventually picking up the pace again. It worked then, so why not try the formula again?
During your long Ironman day, you will have some set backs. There are so many things that can pull you away from your optimal day. I didn’t want to say “go wrong” because rain, wind, flat tires, or even just being tired or not quite prepared are not really “wrong” things. They just happen. You work around them and continue. Yes, the cramps hurt. Yes, my bike was slower than I was hoping. But none of this was going to stop me from reaching the finish line.
That attitude, of never quiting, of working around the hurdles, of thinking your way out of difficult times is what Joanna means when she says that she may have been physically ready to complete an Ironman distance race, but she wasn’t mentally ready. 226 kms in one day is very hard, for the pros, age group winners, middle of the pack guys like me, and for those finishing just under 17 hours! That’s a long time to be working out!
To do that, to have to want to finish, really, really badly so that when things go slightly awry, you draw on all your knowledge imparted by your coach, the hours of training in cold, wet rain, the fact that you’ve pushed through tough times before, to focus on the cacophony of emotions you’ll experience as you break the tape to cross the finish line!
I took my time stretching, perhaps 3 minutes, popped some salt tablets, slowed to half pace and shuffled off to the next aid station (about 2.5 kms apart) to get some water. I walked a couple of the more steep inclines and by the time I hit the 31 km mark, turned around and started heading back to town and the finish line, I was feeling great again. I have no doubt that I was slower on the 2nd half of the marathon, but it didn’t matter. I was mentally zen again! I was feeling great!
Then, I heard someone at the aid station asking what time it was.
“6:45”
6:45? 6:45. What does that mean? I’m usually pretty good with math, but after 11 hours and 45 minutes of working out, I have to admit that not all neurons were firing. A couple of minutes later I figured out that if I ran the final 11 kms in under 1 hour and 15 minutes, I would achieve goal #2: a sub 13 hour Ironman! Run, little-Shammie, run!
The last 11 kms were a mental blur. I knew I was smiling a lot! Most of the other athletes around me continued to fade as I surged. I stubbed my toe when I went on uneven grass to go around one fellow (a toe nail that I’ll probably lose), but I didn’t care. I was going to break goal #2! Run, Sham, run! Make Joanna pround! Make Fiona pround! But mostly, do it for the Gipper! Huh? Just who is the Gip…? Never mind that! Run, Forest! Run!
Two kms from the finish line, I switched my watch to display the time of day. Hey, I was going to finish well under 13 hours. In fact, I was going to finish under 12:53! I’m always having “friendly” competitions with my closest friends (at whatever) and 12:53 was the fastest IM between Derek, Declan and myself. Declan did that time in 1999 in Lake Placid. It’s not really fair to compare the courses, the weather, or the fact that, thanks to Joanna, I had as much time to train as my (still improving) body would allow, but it was a number just like many other numbers that we use to try to normalize and compare so that we can say those three magical words that bring so much joy: “Nay-nay-nay!”
Somehow, I found even more speed running down the 100m long finisher’s shute. I ran past my very excited wife, screaming as I’ve never heard her before, just as excited as I was, and broke the tape at 12:46:43! Mike Rielly, the voice of Ironman, announced me finishing:
“Sham Srigobind, from Auckland, representing Canada!”
(You can hear that in the video clip – below.)
A finishers medal was placed around my neck and I was ushered into a tent to be weighed in at 65.4 kg (144 lbs); I only lost about 2 lbs of water. Well executed. Because I was wobbling around a bit, a volunteer forced me to sit down, but within a minute, I was up again. No, I didn’t want food. No, I didn’t want a massage (actually, I probably did)! But what I really wanted was my Jojo! I hurried out of the tent (all relative here as I’m sure a turtle could have made better time) and wrapped my stinky, sweat-soaked, Poweraid-spilled arms around my wife, my training parter, my support crew and the person that gave me the opportunity to have the Ironman of my dreams!
This was a good day. (See, I can do something understated.)