IM WI - Post Race and Beyond

After crossing the finish line, I was caught by Mickey. I gave him a hug and thanked him for all he had done for me on my journey. I was presented a medal and a mylar blanket was wrapped around me like I was king for a day or something. I saw Josh and we recounted how miserable it felt out there. By the tone in his voice I knew he had a rough day. But anyone who can run a sub 3:10 IM marathon, had to be doing something right. He'll be back.

My next thoughts were focused on getting out of my wet clothes. Since I wasn't running anymore, I was getting cold fast. I waited to get my picture taken and then met my Aunt and cousins. I knew if I finished any later, my cousin from Chicago would have missed my finish.

I dragged myself into the Terrace to grab my gear. I ran into Chris again and was elated to hear he had PRed today. Well done, my friend. We parted ways, but I have a feeling I'll be seeing him again.

I had my cousin take my gear back the the house and then went out to see more of the finishers. I was hoping to grab some brats and beer, but settled for some of cold pizza. I wasn't that hungry and actually felt a little bloated. As I have heard discussed, this probably had something to do with the damaged muscles retaining the water that would normally have been removed as sweat. After seeing Cassie finish, we headed back into the Terrace. I got a pretty long massage, which probably didn't do me any good. I felt bad I didn't have a couple of bucks to tip the masseur. Finally we picked up Cassie and Trina's gear and headed back to my Aunt and Uncle's.

On the drive home, I remember thinking about my finish. As is typical for me, I actually ran faster through the tape. This time maybe I ran too fast. I did not recall hearing the voice of Ironman annouce my name. Maybe I was too close to the guy in front of me. Maybe my race number was just unreadable. But on that evening it did not matter. I knew what I had done to cross that line; no extra validation needed. Grin.

Back at our bivouac, we were greeted by a sign that my Aunt and cousin's made that congratulated our accomplishment. We got online and checked out some of the results and watched some of the Ironman Live feed. I checked on almost everyone I knew that raced and was glad to see the results from everyone. I wished I could have continued watching, but we were all wiped out. For the first time in a long while, that night I slept well.

Race Total: 1:21:40/09:45/6:34:13/05:28/4:24:31 = 12:35:37

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Has Ironman taught me anything? I have read some introspectives from some of my fellow racers, (here, here, here, and here) I can't really put my finger on all of it, but I have in some way changed. But this is not like some step function where everything suddenly changes once you cross some line drawn across a street. For some, Ironman was a catalyst for some amazing transformations. For me, change is usually slow and subtle. The effects stemming from Ironman on my life are still revealing themselves to me today. The process of change has been happening since I clicked "submit" last year, since I jumped in to the lake at my first triathlon, since I crossed the stage to recieve my diploma, since I came into this world.

The most striking revelation came during the last two hours of my race. I had "that feeling". The culmination of months and years of training, the positive and negative emotions coming to balance, but it wasn't until I let go of the numbers and all the distractions around me that things seemed to align. The body and mind were almost on another plane where everything felt easy and "anything was possible."

I have already played the numbers game, because that is an old habit. Goal: 11:43. Actual: 12:35. Could I have finished faster? Certainly. Would I have done things differently? Sure little things here and there like not get off my bike to urinate. Am I happy with my time? The answer in my mind is not as simple as a yes or no. For most of my running and triathlon career, numbers have driven me; they are a goal to strive for and to attain. But looking at the big picture, 12:35 is only a number.

I am proud of the fact that on a cold and rainy Sunday, I finished an Ironman; and I can not define myself by numbers. If for some reason I need a number from this race, I should pull this number out of my head: 13. That is the negative split between my first and second halves of the run. And that will hopefully spark my memory of "that feeling." We were standing in line the Monday after a race to claim a little DVD from the race. A gentleman was talking about the race, and he reaffirmed my conclusion that Ironman goes beyond the numbers. Will I attempt Ironman again? I don't know. I probably will, but at this moment I can walk away from Ironman and hold my head high.

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So what's next?

Throughout my life, somehow I came up with some pretty random goals. I threw out "catching the game winning TD pass in the Super Bowl" a long time ago. But here are three that have stuck around:

1. Complete an Ironman with a finish to be proud of.
2. Qualify for and run in the Boston Marathon
3. Run a sub 2 half - that is sub 2 minutes for a half mile.

Cross off #1. I know # 2 is within reach. #3, I believe the older I get, the harder it will be to achieve. I'm okay if I don't complete #3.

If you look at #2 and #3 notice that they are associated with numbers. So as I go after goal #2, I am back to chasing numbers like 26.2, 3:10, and 07:14. I know that is unavoidable. But chasing numbers had consumed me. I hope Ironman has taught me enough so that the next time I run, bike, or swim, I can find the balance between the numbers and "that feeling."

One week after an Ironman, I competed in a sprint tri. (Here's the short report.) I wanted to run the 5k under 22 minutes, but finished just seconds slower. The ankle/foot pain I felt during the early part of my Ironman run was a precursor to something more. Something hurt after the Ironman and it hurt when I pushed the pace at the sprint tri. I will take some time off and hope I just have some inflammation, not a stress fracture. Perhaps I will run a marathon in several months, maybe in December or January, but I will only do so when I am ready.

My stop in Madison was AWESOME. I'm glad I had so many people along for the ride.

Next stop Boston. Coming along?