Ironman US Campionship 8:04:46

By the time I started running, the winner was less than a mile away from the finish. It was a long race and this is a long blog entry. Thanks for sticking with it.

I dumped the warm water in my bottle and refilled it with ice water at the suggestion of a volunteer.  I started out at an easy pace and immediately spotted Ed and Kait.  Hamsi was also in the crowd and called out my name.  Lots of familiar faces and voices were around and about.  I was psyched.  Psyched to be off the bike, psyched to be running, and psyched to see my friends and family.  Dude, totally psyched.

Kait caught me leaving the transition area.  Did I mention I was psyched?

I turned my watch back on.  I knew it wouldn't last the whole race, but I was most concerned with my heart rate on the hills.  I was going to be excited and I needed to stay disciplined and conservative.  My legs felt good, but that's always how it starts.  Then the bomb drops and I'm cramping.  Stay conservative. Just had to stay conservative.

This course was tough- no lie.  The first 14 miles consisted of two out-and-backs on in the Palisades Park.  Most TNTers know how hilly these roads are.  My Ironteam knew, too.  We trained out here.  That is one of the benefits of living in the host city (even though we were in NJ, technically)  I stayed relaxed as I climbed out of Ross Dock for the last time and saw Coach Scott perched upon a rock.  I gave him a thumbs up. He had a big smile on his face.

Some people hate out and backs.  It's true, I do enjoy destination runs and races, but out an backs allow me to see my teammates as we passed each other.  And that was really great.  I found myself wondering what lap they were on.  But it really didn't matter.  We exchanged high fives and encouragement.  It was a reminder that we weren't doing this alone and that we were doing this for more than just ourselves.  I saw other familiar faces out there.  Ramon and Kara were out supporting their teammates and cheered me on.  Peter was out on the course as well.

Coach Scott had recommended that we walk through the aid stations, essentially doing a run/walk strategy.  I seemed to have forgotten this for the first couple stations, but started to do it.  The aid stations were a bit overwhelming.  The volunteers were sooo enthusiastic.  I volunteered for the Lake Placid Ironman in 2009 and remember being the same.  There were so many options.  Besides water and the Ironman Perform Gatorade-like drink, there was ice, Coke, a variety of Gu, pretzels, chicken broth, wet sponges, and more, I'm sure.

I was pretty much only interested in water and Perform. The volunteers would yell out what they were offering.  All I needed to do was take it or yell out what I wanted.  In most cases, I'd say "Water!" and two volunteers would help pour water into my bottle.

"Would you like some ice?"

"Sure!  Thanks!"

I wasn't stopping at each aid station, because I had that trusty water bottle.  I learned the hard way that I can't really survive racing a marathon cramp-free without it. 

I stopped to pee again at mile 7 and as I left the porta potty I heard Coach Scott yell out to me.  "Joel!  How many fingers?"

"What?"

This had something to do with his how are you feeling rating system.  I eventually just yelled out that "I'm feeling awesome!" and continued on my way.  I was feeling damn good. Except for one thing. Do I need to poop?  I thought about that as I covered the next few miles.  In that time, my watch died, I saw more teammates, completed the last turn around, and made up my mind. Yup, I had to poop.

I was carrying a gps device that friends and family were tracking me with.  When I was moving, apparently a little arrow icon would appear and move along the course.  When I stopped, it became a dot.  My brother later told me he watched as the arrow became a dot and stayed a dot for awhile. He wondered, Is he ok? Yup.  You were just watching me poop.

Climbing those hills was challenging and each hill felt harder, but I kept pushing.  My legs ached. I was just tired, that's all. I could keep going.  No need to slow down.  I passed mile 14, which meant I was finally on my way out of the park.  A lot of people were walking at this point.  I was the only one running out of the park and up the hill toward the George Washington Bridge. 

To cross the bridge, I had to climb stairs- about 75 of them- then descend about 75 on the other side.  I took it easy with the stairs, walking them, but I darted over the bridge.  That felt liberating.  It was a nice mile long flat stretch where I felt I could open things up a bit and test my legs.  Yup, tired.  Yup, still plenty in the tank.

Crossing the GW, squinting from the wind.

On the other side, a nice size crowd was gathered to welcome the runners  Daniel was among them.  He called out to me and I waived back. It was a great welcome to New York City and it was a taste of what was to come.  Yeah, Manhattan.  The home stretch. 

As I passed the first aid station on this side of the bridge, a volunteer called out to me.

"You're gonna catch a lot of people at that pace!"

Did somebody day kills?  My mouth started salivating.  Other volunteers called out asking if I wanted water or ice or sponges.  I didn't want anything, except kills.  Instead of slowing at this aid station, I sped up and made my way through Washington Heights to the bike path.


There was a lot of wind up in that first part of the bike path that I wasn't expecting.  I was hoping for a nice smooth run to Riverside, but this wind was kind of beating me up.  It swirled, pushing me back and side to side.  I let myself slow a bit and looked around.  Families were out having barbecues, playing music and  spending a Saturday by the river.  They seemed oblivious to the fact that an Ironman was passing through their picnic ground.  At one point a group of kids were sitting right on the course playing a card game.  I kind of loved this.  It was so New York.  On any given evening, there are thousands of things going on in the city.

Suddenly, I realized I was cruising at a nice pace.  The wind stopped, or perhaps became a tail wind.  This run was feeling great.  No cramping.  Feeling strong. No bomb dropped. Retrospectively, I can say this stretch, if not the whole marathon, was a victory lap for me.

Another kill.  I had net 603 of them during the marathon.

Syed! Amanda!  I was surprised by their familiar faces and stopped to give and get some hugs.  Amanda told me how popular the "Go Complete Stranger" sign she made was.  I told them I was feeling great.  Yes, the celebration had begun.  I was so happy to see them.

I moved quickly toward Riverside Park, anticipating seeing more friends near the TNT aid station.  I tried not to let it occupy my thoughts.  I tried to stay in the moment.  I have miles left.  I have a few turns to go.  Pass this walker.  Don't knock anyone over at that aid station... Look out for the random cyclists...

And then they were there.

The roar of cheers was just amazing. The welcome was overwhelming.  Louis was the first person I saw.  Then everyone else. Michelle, Rachel, Travis, Brian, Sarah, Kristin, Casey... too many to name and to be honest, I was dazed by the group's presence and definitely didn't spot everyone. I stopped and gave and got lots of hugs.  They were so excited for me and I was so excited to see them all. I felt awesome.

This made the race- my friends and family and all the support and love they gave me.  It was just amazing.  I have thanked them.  I've thanked you all. And I am doing so again here in this blog.  You all need to understand how special this day was for me and it was so special because of you all.  Accomplishing an Ironman is pretty cool.  Having you all in my life is just balls-out amazing.

Brooklyn Love.

 

Hugs.

 I turned the corner and was blown away by the TNT aid station.  Jeanette handed me water and Perform.  Maureen cheered me on. I got hugs from Jim and Amy.  Some guy sponged my back, which I wasn't a fan of, but still appreciated his enthusiasm and support.  (Sorry I freaked- I'm paranoid about chafing.  Especially in my butt crack. I was fine.)

I entered Riverside Park, in which the course snaked along for a couple miles.  Cary and his crew were there, as were Sarah and Lawrence, Carla and Anjali, Angela, Lisa, Pam and Christie.... so many hugs and high fives were doled out and received and I'm sure I'm forgetting some.  Still, I love you.

I turned out of the park and got more TNT love on my way to the finish.  More people were running at this point.  They could taste the finish as could I.  Soon I could hear Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, announce finishers.  A couple of turns later I could see it.

I spot Ed and Kait.

I slowed, scanning the crowds, looking for my parents.  There they were.

I gave them more hugs, then went off to find Ed and Kait.  Ah, there they were.  More hugs.

How one crosses the finishline is often a choriographed move.  Many raise their hands in triumph. Some fist pump. I've seen one guy "airplane" to the end.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do.  And yes, I thought about it.  Also to consider was the official declaration by Mike Reilly that were were Ironmen. I slowed even more, trying to create space between me and the runners before and after me.  Man, they were going slow.

Finally, I just walked through the finish line, big smile on my face.  Yeah, I'm happy with that. 

Run > 4:20:36

Finish > 12:25:22

Done.

Happy.

Ironman US Championship 1:00:55

The bike course started with a steady climb out of Ross Dock. I shifted to my lowest gear and took it easy.  There was a lot ofbike traffic, but it didn’t really matter. Most everyone was going easy at this point.  Then I saw them-  my beautiful friends.  

My friends rule.

Syed, Amanda, Casey and Rachel all rule.

Most popular sign on the course.

Donned in TNT purple, Amanda, Rachel, Syed and Casey lined the bike course with signs, cow bells, and energy.  I was thrilled.  They had huge smiles and were cheering for me,calling my name.  I made my way over to them and gave them all high-fives.   As I rode off, I thought about how for them to be out here at 8:25am-ish, they had to wake up before 6am probably, skip their own GTS, drive over to NJ, just to be here and see me for that handful of seconds. I get overwhelmed with love just think about that right now as I type.

The course leveled off enough as passed the GW bridge forme to up shift.  I grabbed a bottle ofwater from the first aid station- I probably didn’t have to, but wanted to beconservative.  Shortly after, I hit ahuge bump on the road and the bottle went flying out of its cage.  Oh well. I didn’t need it.

I could feel myself wanting to push hard, but I didn’t.  I reminded myself that the first loop shouldfeel like a normal long Sunday ride.  Ikept pace with a few teammates for a while, but as the field thinned, we spreadout.

 

Staying relaxed.

My parents were starting their volunteer shift at mile 18at 11:30.  I had already warned them thatthey would probably miss me on the first loop. I scanned that aid station just in case as I grabbed another water andIronman Perform drink.  Nope, not thereyet.

A bit further down the road the cyclists were slowingdown.   A woman was on the ground,volunteers around her diverting traffic.  She took a horrible spill.  She lay motionless, face bloodied, waitingfor medical support. 

This road was pretty rough.  There were a few stretches of smooth asphalt,but the majority was concrete slabs. With each break between slaps, the bike bounced.  Potholes where frequent and cyclists neededto be alert.  Some were freshly filled inby Ironman, others were simply marked with yellow spray paint.   Lots of people popped tires.  And there was at least this one really badcrash.

I reached the turnaround and everyone slowed down andfiled into a single line.  “This is a verypolite turnaround,” I said out loud.  Thecyclists around me laughed in agreement. We were all having a good day. 

The downed woman was still lying motionless on theground.  “Where the hell is theambulance?”  Fellow cyclists were indisbelief.  “She’s been out there fornearly half an hour!”  Yeah, where thehell was the medical support?

This sport is dangerous. We risk a lot to practice it. That’s the truth.  It’s not likesky diving or Nascar, but crashing on your bike when going anywhere between 15and 50 miles per hour is not fun, I imagine (I’ve been lucky enough not to havedone so yet).  Neither is drowning duringthe swim or straining your heart to the point of death.  A man died in the Hudson during theswim.  I think it was after I gotout.  I have yet heard the cause ofdeath.  Rather than read about the death, check this article out. I never told my mom about thesethings, fearing that she’d freak out.

I made my way to the end of the first loop and stopped atthe special needs bag area, grabbed my bag, and used the porta potty for the first time.  At this point I was well ahead of my planned calorie intake.  I was aiming for 250 calories per hour, but was probably closer to 300.  I reloaded my pockets with Gu and potatoes and was off.  The turnaround wasn't far.  I could hear the roar of the crowd before I could see them.  That was cool.  And they were plenty loud.

I made the turn and a few moments later, my watch beeped at me.  The battery was low.   

What the hell?

It had only been slightly more than three hours.  It usually lasts eight.  This was frustrating.  After thinking a bit, I stopped the watch and put it in power save mode.  This way, I could tell the time and the battery would last all day.  I needed 250+ calories per hour.  This, above all, was the top priority.


At some point leading up to the race, I made the decision to stop and hug them.  There was no need to fly by.  Especially when they drove 2+ hours and volunteered for 6 hours just to get a glimpse of their son riding a bicycle on the Palisades Parkway. So when I spotted them- my dad had just made a water bottle hand off with another cyclist and my mom was gathering empty bottles into a recycling bag- I stopped.

"Hey, how's it going?" I said to them.

"Hey!!" My mom was excited and gave me a hug immediately.  My dad decided to squirt me with a water bottle.  He thought it was funny.  I was worried about chafing.

We chatted a bit.  I told them I loved them and thanked them for volunteering.  My mom told me how strange some of the volunteers are.  I agreed- they were probably triathletes hoping to sign up next year.

I made a second bathroom stop, then continued toward the turn around.  At this point, my ass was hurting.  I expected as much.  I was shifting more than earlier and standing regularly for some relief.  Just after the turn around, I stopped to pee again.

Probably tired of being on the bike at this point.

 Why do I keep bringing the pee stops up?  Well, during a marathon, I don't stop.  I knew I'd be stopping.  I knew I would err on the side of too much hydration rather than dehydration for this event. And I would still stop one more time before getting off the bike course.  I also knew there was no way that I was going to pee on the bike.  Why?  Ok, indulge me while I go off on this tangent...

Back in June, I did a 90 mile ride along route 20 in the Catskills.  It was wicked hot and I was drinking a lot.  I had stopped to pee a couple times, but needed to go again.  This was about mile 70.  I've heard that hardcore cyclist just pee while riding.  How?  They just stand and pee.  They don't whip it out first.  They don't pull over.  They just ride and pee.  I had to try it, no?

It was fairly horrible.

How much detail do you want?  I'll spare you most of it, except for this: I had a puddle of piss in my right shoe for the next 20 miles.  Yeah.  Awesome.  Never again.

Ok, back to the race report...

Mileage signs were somewhat sporadic and I could no longer rely on my gps watch.  But I was quite familiar with the highway because of driving it dozens of times.  I just went by feel and counted down the exit signs.  I was ready to be off the bike.  I wasn't exhausted, just wanted off.  So actually, I sped up a bit.

I passed the special needs bag area which was empty and cleaned up.  The turn around was no longer there and the crowd vacated.  I exited the Parkway, knowing there were just a couple miles to the end of the course and took stock.

I had most of a bottle of Perform left, one Gu, and a few potatoes.  I was still ahead of my calories and my stomach felt fine.  So I decided to take the Gu and finish the bottle of Perform before I reached transition.  I popped in another potato while I was at it.  I also took the watch off and put it on my wrist.

Approaching transition.

I mainly coasted down hill, spotted my brother again, hopped off my bike at the dismount marker, walked it to a volunteer, and decided to get out of my cycle shoes immediately rather than clunk around in them.  I grabbed my run gear bag and made my way to the steamy changing tent.  I had a big smile on my face as I changed, I knew what I needed to do.

I laced up my shoes as a volunteer helped stuff my cycle gear into the bag.  I loaded my pockets with fuel and salt and stuffed my SCBkR hat back in the bag and tied the Warriors bandana on.  I grabbed my water bottle and got out of there.


Marathon time, baby. 

Bike> 6:53:16

Transition 2> 0:10:35
Start of Marathon 8:04:46 [next entry]

Ironman US Championship 00:00:00

There comes a time in every man's life when he must decide whether or not to jump into a river polluted with raw sewage.  This was my time...

BOOM!

7:00AM had arrived and the age groupers, as we are called, began trickling into the river, jumping from the barge.  It was exciting and hilarious all at once.  From my ferry, 4th in line and waiting patiently to dock, we watched as the athletes jumped in.  Most did a simple jump, a few belly flopped to our amusement, and only a couple thought to cannonball.

The swim portion of the Ironman was never in danger of being canceled, it seemed.  The rationale was quite simply, the proportion of sewage that made it's way into the river those couple days- about 3.4 million gallons- wasn't that big a deal.  It wasn't much more than is normally in there, I guess.

As my ferry turned to dock with the barge, the toxic levels of the Hudson were the farthest things from my mind.  I wanted in.  My fellow athletes wanted in.  We tried to be patient as we emptied onto the barge and pushed forward, but we were excited.  Everyone was psyched.  It was an amazing and electric atmosphere.

I looked toward the course, the hundreds of swimmers already in the river, and up at the George Washington Bridge in the distance.  "That is so bad ass!" I pointed and gave everyone around me my opinion of the view.  I exchanged some high-5s with teammates as we crossed the timing mat, and seconds after, I was in the water (feet first, but I should have cannon-balled).  So I began to swim.

We file onto the lower level of the barge.

The water was salty, as I had expected. The field was fairly spread out.  Most kept close to the buoys, sighting off of them.  I stayed away and sighted off the GW Bridge west tower.  I knew where I was going.  No need to cling to the buoys.  That gave me an advantage, since it meant I could be off on my own, practically undisturbed, and I could be relaxed and just swim.  That advantage may have been negated because I wasn't getting as strong a current pull as the others probably were.  In fact, there were times where I felt it was actually driving me toward the shore.

The kayak people- race officials, I guess- waived me more toward the buoys a couple times.  Rather than argue, I veered toward them more.  But I kept relatively straight, aiming for the GW Bridge tower closest to New Jersey.  That's where the transition area was.  That's where we're getting out of the water.

The second half of the race seemed to go much faster, which makes sense since that's when the current was forecast to change.  It suddenly got more crowded as all the swimmers veered toward me and the exit.  It also got disgusting.

The Hudson River has a layer of sludge at the bottom.  You can't step onto it- it's not ground.  Not dirt or rock.  It's sludge.  If you try to step and push off the "ground", your foot and leg will sink into it and get stuck.  It's muck.  It's disgusting.  With thousands of swimmers thrashing about in shallow water, the water turned grayish-brown.  Even though I could reach the bottom of the river with my elbows, I dare not stand up until I was on the ramp that led to land.  Volunteers reached out and pulled us up.

"That was pretty disgusting," I commented to one.

"Dude, you were in the Hudson," was his reply.

There were actually showers for us to run through to wash the shit off our faces, etc.  But some guy stopped and stood under it for who knows how long.  I didn't hang around.  I went around and made my way to the strippers.

No, not that kind of stripper.  These were volunteers who helped get our wetsuits off.  Rather than wrestling with it myself- it's the tightness that makes it difficult- I had two people peel it down, sit me on the ground, and rip it off my legs.  Quick.  I slung it over my arm, made my way through the field of blue bags grabbing mine before the volunteer could find it.  I shuffled along toward the changing tent.  Ed spotted me and called out my name.  It was great to see him so early on

Hi Ed.

The changing tent was steamy.  Not in a good way.  It smelled of sweaty dudes.  A bunch of teammates were around- we must have gotten out of the water at the same time- and we all got out of our river clothes and into our cycle gear.  Coach Scott specifically suggested we change out of whatever we swam in because the Hudson is disgusting.  He feared the smell may catch up to us after a few hours.

I wasn’t speedy about it, but I got my gear on and fuel in my pockets, and was out ready for my bike.  I grabbed it and walked it to the “mounting” line.  I looked over my shoulder at the clock.  It read 8:18AM or something.  That meant I definitely was faster on my swim than expected.  Good.  On schedule.

Swim> 0:52:01

Transition 1> 0:08:54

Bike Start: 1:00:55 [next entry]