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]

Prelude to 140.6

Slow down. Grab the sports drink.  Rack it.  Grab the water, refill the Jetstream.  Grab another bottle? Do I need a spare?

It was 7 days before the big day.  I was riding alone along 9W contemplating the balance between reducing weight on my bike and proper hydration.  I had just met the team at Ross Dock for the last (and only second) time.  Coach Scott lead the group in a visualization of the transition area and Q & A session.  I felt prepared.  The only question I had was, do I live off the course aid stations or carry everything with me?  I took my time out there, visualizing the race.  I didn't get back home to Brooklyn until 3p or so, skewing my plans to clean and unpack a bit.  This was it.  Race week.  And I had two big priorities- get the race done and figure out what to do with my parents.

Every day of the week leading up to the event had something Ironman related scheduled.  It was a bit much.  With the suggestion of Coach Scott that "swim practice was optional" if we had shit to take care of, I skipped it.  And I skipped Tuesday's run practice, too (not that I've ever gone to a run GTS...).  Instead I swam on my own and ran with the fall marathon team on.  I spent that time sleeping and cleaning.

Wednesday was the first day of the expo and I was anxious to check in.  I headed to Pier 92 around 3pm hoping to beat the rush.  There was barely anyone there. The expo was relatively small, but impressively big for an even with less than 3,000 participants.  I got in, signed a few death waivers, grabbed my chip, bib, and official Ironman backpack, bought a new Trigger Point roller, and took off back to the office to finish up a couple things before the Team in Training inspiration dinner. This was not one of the Ironman events I was about to skip.

It was the usual program and it didn't disappoint. Our NYC teammate Mark gave the connection to the cause speech, telling us of his father who was diagnosed with myeloma midseason, reminding us why we were all there. The top fundraiser raised over $141,000. In total, 89 Ironman participants across the country raised about $950,000. I was amazed. I am hoping that since then, we've gone over a million.

The athletes banquet and mandatory information meeting were scheduled for Thursday night. Though I had hoped to skip the evening events and instead go to Daniel's art reception with Casey, I decided that it would be best for me to go. It wasn't worth it.  The entertainment bordered on lame, the food was horrible, and the info meeting had no new information.  Waste of time.  Matt Long's appearance and speech was the only highlight.

But everything was overshadowed by what was really on everyone's mind: The sewage dump in the Hudson. As soon as I heard about it, I thought it was a joke.  Then I thought of this.  Then, after chuckling to myself, I thought, "Oh shit.  They really could cancel the swim."  I spent about seven minutes churning this about in my head and googling articles on the topic.  Other participants had been posting on the Ironman US Championship Facebook page with similar questions.  Some were seriously freaking out and pissed off.  At the end of my seven minutes or so of borderline freaking out, I decided two things (lot's of things come in pairs in this post): 1) I can't control it so don't worry about it.  Plan as if I am going to swim.  2) If I don't swim, I'm going to do another Ironman for sure.  This one wouldn't count.

Ironman would announce at 4:30 pm on Friday whether or not the swim was cancelled.

How did it become Thursday night already?  I thought about this as I packed up my gear late that night.  It, along with my bike, needed to be checked in on Friday.   I laid out my race gear/outfits, as is customary with my kind (SCBkR/TNT rules!), then tossed it into its appropriate bag.  I topped up my tires with air for the last time.  In the morning, Yvonne and I would make our way to the transition area.  Despite skipping practice and hoping to take care of things early on in the week, I knew that once I awoke on Friday morning, the nex 24 hours were going to be insane.

Gear laid out.

Gear bagged up.

Friday, 7:30AM
I woke up and showered.  I realized this was likely going to be my last shower as a non-Ironman.  I loaded up the car, racked my bike, and made my way up to Atlantic Ave where Yvonne is waiting.  She jumped in and we head into Manhattan.

Friday, 9:00AM
Greg Parker, famous for baking wonderful treats and being so gay, is fundraising for the 7th or 8th time (I can't keep count) and plans on completing yet another season with TNT and crossing another finish line for the cause.  I requested a couple banana breads for the weekend from him, and since he was leaving town at noon and I was going to be a bit busy on Saturday, I stopped by his office in Tribecca to pick up the goods.  He wished me well, handed me a bag of loafs.

Friday, 10:00AM
Yvonne's boyfriend Hamsi rode her bike to the transition area earlier that day because he was volunteering that morning.  So I dropped Yvonne as close as I could and then parked the car.  I parked a couple miles away, but I had my bike to ride, and I actually got to the transition area before she did.  Luckily, we beat the first ferry-load of athletes so there was no delay for us.  We dropped our gear, scoped out the area, said a quick hello to Hamsi, and headed back toward the car.  I suggested we take the shortest route to the car, which included a couple hundred steps.  Yvonne agreed.  So on the day before we were to cover 140.6 miles, we did a two mile hike.

The figurative and literal calm before the storm.

Colline is racked.  Here she waited in the rain until the next day.

We were early.  This field would be covered in blue bags by the end of the day.

Volunteer Hamsi and Athlete Yvonne

Where do these stairs go?  They go up.

Friday, 12:00PM
I dropped Yvonne off near the Columbus Circle subway stop because I wasn't going back to Brooklyn just yet.  Wednesday night I received a text from my good friend Steve.

"Oh hey we're in a cab heading to the hospital right now."

He and his wife were expecting a baby boy right about the same time I was expecting to do an Ironman.  Sam was early.  I stopped by the hospital to pay my first visit to the boy.  Good looking kid.  It was cute to see his big brother of 2 years, Charlie, interact with him, bouncing between his toy trains and his baby brother.  I also learned how to tell whether or not a diaper is a poopy and pee pee diaper or just a poopy diaper, but I'll save that description and those pics for when I start writing a poopy diaper blog.

Charlie now has both a toy train and a baby brother.

Friday, 2:00PM
Back in October of 2011, I had met Jacques Steinberg on an plane on my way to coach the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco.  Jacques noticed that I was reading Liz Robbins's book, "A Race Like No Other," and commented that his friend wrote the book.  He snapped my photo with it, texted it to her, and told me he had written a book called, "You Are an Ironman," which I have now read and enjoyed. We chatted about training, shared anecdotes and exchanged information.  Liz contacted me about meeting the fall season TNT NYC Marathon team, which went over awesomely.  And I put Jacques in touch with the TNT office in hopes to do some joint ventures.  He wrote this NY Times article published in June.

Jacques was at the expo on Friday signing his book, so I thought I'd stop in and reintroduce myself and get an autograph.  He remembered me.  We chatted a bit about my training and his writing.  He's a nice guy and I'm glad I had the chance to reconnect.  The book is great and I could relate to a few of the people spotlighted in its pages.  It was a great coincidence that I met Jacques on that plane, and I'm glad I did.

Friday, 4:30PM
I finally made it back to Brooklyn.  There was still a lot to do.  I went out grocery shopping for a going away party that was being held in my backyard on Sunday.  Casey decided she had to go to grad school in NC and leave Brooklyn.  It was a pot luck party and I had offered to bring the meat.  I'm good at meat.  I grabbed some hockey pucks (frozen burger patties), sausage, and chicken thighs.  I figured I'd marinate the chicken in hoisin and chipotle sauce.  It didn't take long and always comes out tasty.

Friday, 6:00PM
I have to eat.  My plan was to be in bed by 8pm.  I knew that wasn't really going to happen, but I had to eat.  Casey and I met up for a meal.  Well, we met up so she could watch me eat.  She didn't eat at all.  We went out for Thai carbo-loading and I ordered a couple appetizers and some noodles.  Casey had a beer.  We got to catch up and had some great one on one time, which I was hoping to get that week.  It wasn't exactly a coincidence that Casey's last week was also Ironman week.  She planned around my Ironman, choosing to leave after I had completed it so she could be here to support me.  Great friend.

Friday, 8:00PM
We walked to Rachel's so I could grab an air mattress for my brother and his fiancee, Kait, to use that night.  I had gotten a text from Ed a bit earlier saying he wouldn't be rolling in until probably 10pm.  He was well aware that I wanted to get to bed by 8pm and apologized.  But I didn't mind.  There was no way I was going to be ready for bed by 8pm.  Plus, Ed was saving my ass in so many ways that week.

Ed and Kait signed up to volunteer at the transtion area Saturday morning.  This ensured they would be able to see me exit the swim, get on the bike, get off the bike, and start to run.  This also meant they could pick up my bike and gear for me and bring it back to Manhattan so I wouldn't have to after finishing the Ironman.  And, they had to get on a 5am ferry, so they were going to get up with me at 2am and bring me to Pier 34.  Great, huh?  But that's not all. Ed found a way to take care of the parents.  He found a volunteer spot at a bike aid station on the Palisades which was easier to get to from Schenectady than it was from Brooklyn.  That meant my parents didn't have to come down on Friday and spend the night which was great.  They are both night owls- the whole family is. And I was very concerned about getting to sleep and waking up at a reasonable hour with them in my apartment.  Ed solved all these issues.  Yes, he's a good man.

Friday, 9:00PM
I bagged up my fuel, prepared some Gatorade, and set aside all that I needed in the morning.  I laid in bed, dozing in and out of sleep until Ed and Kait arrived.

Friday, 10:00PM
When they did, we were pretty quick about going to bed.  We all had a very long day ahead of us.

Fuel.

Race Day, 2:00AM
I got a solid 3 hours of sleep, I think.  Not bad.  I began my race morning routine of drinking water, making egg, sausage and cheese sandwiches, and trying to poop.  I accomplished two out of three tasks. We were out the door by 3am, through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, and up the Henry Hudson Parkway in less than 30 minutes.  Ed dropped me off and went to find parking.  He wished me luck and I thanked him again.

Bus load after bus load of athletes pulled in to the pier.  Most everyone looked very relaxed. I found a teammate and fellow marathon coach, Mike, and we waited patiently for the ferries to begin loading. 

That's my "It's 3:30am, what the hell?" face.

Athletes file onto the ferries.

Race Day, 4:00AM
The ferry ride to the transition area took about 40 minutes.  I ate my huge breakfast sandwich and drank my water.  We where probably the 6th or 7th ferry to arrive and the transition area was already bustling with activity as athletes made last minute preparations.  I filled my jetstream bottle with water and put my fuel in the appropriate transition bags.  I made a few visits to the porta-potties.  Coach Scott spotted me and asked how I was doing.  I was calm. Or maybe I was just really tired.  No, I was calm.  And confident.  He agreed that I should be confident (as any good coach would right before an epic event was about to begin).  I could see the excitement gleaming from his eyes.  His work was done.  Today, he'd just be a cheerleader.
 

Last photo.

Race Day, 6:00AM
The sun was up.  The sky is overcast and everyone was wishing it to stay that way.  I strip down to my speedo, check my last bag, and line up for the ferry, wetsuit over my shoulder, goggles wrapped around my wrist, and swim cap in hand.

Transition area at dawn (taken by Kait).

Transition area at dawn (taken by Kait).

I was on the ferry behind this one.

Eight ferries in all load and leave the transition area.  As we board, we were cheered on by the volunteers and the spectators that bought the $50 pass to be here.  Each ferry got a cruise-like send off. One by one we left and I suddenly felt a jolt of excitement.  I watched as the transition area became smaller and smaller as we moved north toward the start.  The ferry moved slowly, probably so that it wouldn't disturb the swim course.  I watched the buoys.  A teammate pointed toward a boat basin on the shore.

"That's the halfway point."

We inched past it.  I watched the water, trying to tell what the current was doing.  It looked like it was flowing upstream at the moment.  Because the Hudson is affected by the tides, this was what we were expecting.  It should turn in our favor by 7:30 or so.  The ferry continued to inch forward, deliberately slow.  Maybe it was also trying to build tension and drama.  Because it was.

Then we were there.

Race Start: 6:50AM
The sight before me was amazing.

There was a 90 foot barge with professional athletes waiting with anticipation aboard.  Two large ferries, like the one I was on, loaded with athletes was docked onto the back of the barge.  The athletes were filing out, but holding back behind the pros, waiting their turn.  The backdrop was the beautiful tree filled and cliff ladened Palisades Park.

Also on the barge was a clock, ticking upward toward 6:50AM.  Then it was.

BOOM!

The canon went off and the pro men dove into the water and powered forward. Everyone on my ferry- on all the ferries- erupted with cheers. Within seconds they were past the first marker.  I turned to look at their target- the majestic George Washington Bridge, with the New York City Skyline behind it.  It was an awe inspiring sight.  The energy in the air was potent. I turned back and the pro women had taken their mark.  The clocked moved steadily toward 6:55AM.  Then...

BOOM!

The pro women were in and swimming toward the GW.  The ferries roared with more cheers.  The barge filled quickly with age group athletes.  One ferry emptied, moved from the barge, and another full ferry took its place.  I watched with amazement at this dance.  I watched the pros thrash through the water.  I looked up once again at the GW. 

Bad. Ass.

A helicopter was circling above, no doubt capturing the moment on film.  I hoped they were.  I have yet to find a picture that captures what I saw and experienced.

Then it was our turn.

BOOM!

[Part two will follow shortly.  Thanks for letting me indulge by breaking this entry up into manageable chunks. To continue reading, click here.]

Pros dive in at the start! (Mike Roy/The Star-Ledger)