So the “Big Race” is history and many of you know I MADE IT! For the second time, I AM AN IRONMAN. Many of you also may have heard that I didn’t have the best of races, but that depends on what your understanding of “the best of races” would be. Here’s my take on the ordeal.

A week before the race the weather channel predicted cool temperatures with a high of 65. That would have been ideal for me. Two days before the race, the high temp had been raised to 70. The day before the race, the high temp had been raised to 74. On race morning, the high temp had been raised to 83. My son Matt tells me that the temperature reading on the car thermometer hit 89 at one time but was consistently around 87.

The only way the day could have been worse for me was wind. It had been in the 10-20 mph range Thursday through Saturday, calmed down to 5-10 on race day, and went back up to 10-20 on Monday.

I am not a hot weather racer as many of you well know. My body just doesn’t fit that pattern. I have a high sweat rate (OK-that’s enough of the “you don’t sweat much for a fat guy” jokes) and my digestive tract doesn’t absorb the fluids fast enough.

So after setting the conditions, here’s the way the day went from my perspective.

The race started with almost 2,200 swimmers, the most in any Ironman Triathlon ever. It was a madhouse the first half mile and was still crowded the rest of the way. I was constantly being hit by other swimmers. One had a watch on that scraped along the top of my right foot and left a one inch cut. One guy hit me in the butt so many times I feel like we’re engaged. I knew my swim time would be worse than last year and it was by 9 minutes. Apparently my body knew it needed fluids so I drank several mouthfuls of water from Lake Monona.

I made a smooth enough transition to the bike and I was off. When I got to “the spot” on McCoy Road I was strangely calm. Most of the bad spots had been fixed and I was careful to watch where I was going. All the way out to Verona I felt like I had won the race and, to me, the demon was history. On the long hill going into Mt. Horeb I had a flat. First of all, it was my first flat in any race. And second of all, why was it on an uphill? Luckily it was the front and was easier to change. I wasted quite a bit of time trying to find what caused it so I wouldn’t flat the spare tube when I put it in. I couldn’t find anything so I inflated the spare with the CO2 cartridge and it held. I just checked the tire and it has around 20 pounds of air, so maybe I just got lucky it didn’t go flat all the way again.

The hills on the bike course are relentless, but there are three in the latter part of the loop that are killer. One is called Old Sauk Pass and it is a long tough climb. Not long compared to Lake Placid, but long when you consider all the other hills you’ve already done. The second one is shorter but steeper. The third one is long and steep. I rode them all but both quads cramped on the second loop on the third of those three hills. Part of it was just the hills and part of it was dehydration/salt intake. I had been drinking Gatorade, carbo pro and taking 1 salt capsule per hour. I increased to two salt capsules every 30-45 minutes about an hour before when the signs of cramping started and it helped me finish the race, although it still wasn’t enough. In addition to the two carbo pro bottles, I consumed several oranges, bananas, some Hammer Gel, several Ritz Bits (peanut butter flavor), two 50 ounce camelbacks of Gatorade and four bottles of water.

I was nauseous after the first 35 miles of the bike and stayed that way until the end of the race. So the run went from a run to a run/walk. I could run about a mile at a time and then would be so sick feeling I would have to walk. At each aid station I would either drink defizzed coke, Gatorade, or chicken broth (Swanson’s…cold…poured right from the can). I sucked the salt off pretzels and spit out the rest into garbage cans. Not to be any more crass than usual, from 7AM race morning until around 2AM the next morning I peed once. I estimate I ran 1/4 of the 26 miles and walked the other 3/4.

So I saw Larry on the run who was also in some distress but at least an hour ahead of me. He asked me how I was doing. I said (I’m doing my best to quote myself) “I feel like s***. I had a flat at Mt. Horeb, I’ve been nauseous since noon, I got leg cramps just past Old Sauk Pass and I’m having a blast” and I meant it.

I know it sounds strange, but time didn’t matter to me (except that I was going to finish before the midnight cutoff no matter what). Maybe I just rationalized my misery, but I couldn’t help thinking about the past year. I wrote about the demon that lives out on McCoy Road, but we all know the “demon” is inside us all. It’s the little guy (or girl) dressed in a devil suit with a pitchfork that sits on our shoulder and tells us to eat that Hershey Bar…you can work it off later, or tells the alcoholic to take another drink, or the drug addict to get high just one more time.

In my case it could have been:

1) You should sue the City of Madison. those craters in the road shouldn’t have been there. You can make millions.

2) You should sue the helmet manufacturer. That helmet shouldn’t have broken into three pieces. You can make millions.

3) It’s Ok to blame yourself for the bike wreck. Just have a couple more drinks and you’ll feel better about it.

4) Those Doctors in Madison never should have released you that early. They have plenty of money. You can make millions.

I could go on and on, but I won’t. I listened to the “goody-two-shoes” guy that sits on the other shoulder and says “It was just an accident. Nobody did anything on purpose. Just try to make the best of a tough situation”.

So if I had my choice of whether to do the race in 14:00:00 or to come back and try the race again to prove to myself I could do it; write to family and friends through 24 weeks of training (I enjoy writing these e-mails as much as many of you enjoy reading them); have family and friends supporting me every step of the way with good thoughts, prayers and encouragement; have people that heard about last year’s bike wreck give me hugs during the run telling me I can do it; have family and friends at the race screaming, yelling, and giving me more encouragement; have the satisfaction of helping a young man and his family when they need help (of course that’s a two edged sword…they don’t owe me anything…they just need to pass the kindness on to someone else later); adapt to tough race conditions and do the best I could under the circumstances, but do the race in 16:18:54, I would choose the latter.

But then again, having it both ways wouldn’t have been too much to ask, would it?

For those of you interested, the underpants run down State Street on Friday evening raised $427 for Eric’s Fund. I am attaching a couple of pictures Bill Bradley took with my camera. I gave the female participants physicals to make sure they were in good enough shape for the run. I’m not a doctor, but I did stay at the Holiday Inn Express. Several of the men were stopped and searched by food police…it appeared they were trying to smuggle bratwurst from other states into Wisconsin. None were arrested, but many were given stiff warnings.

Just (What Isn’t Numb Is Sore) Jack