Confessions of a first time Ironman (pt.2)

The city, I began to realize, was called Tem-PEE.  Not TEM-pee.  It was Friday night, and we were out here in Tempe Arts Park with 2400 other athletes at the pre-race banquet.  As each city and race official took their turn at the microphone proclaiming how Tem-PEE exemplified the spirit of Ironman, my mind began to wander.  It was a long day, the food was terrible, and the desert night air was cold.

Louis and I had gone to the expo earlier that day to pick up our race packets, which contained our timing chip, race bibs, swim cap, transition bags, and special needs bags.  As we drove into downtown Tempe and looked out upon the sidewalks, it was easy to pick out who was here to race.  Even if the bikes, running shoes, cycling jerseys, or Ironman shirts didn’t give them away, the lean bodies, toned shoulders, and ripped calf muscles let you know that triathletes were in town.  I felt a bit like an impostor.  :)

Why yes, Yes I do have my USA Triathlon membership card!

As we stood in line for our packets, we chatted with a married couple behind us who was racing in their 13th Ironman together.  Even the birth of two children didn’t seem to slow them down.  She was a real stud too.  Usually top 10 in her age group with IM finish times of slightly over 11 hours.  And how cool is it that they share this passion for triathlon?  It must be nice be able to train together, or not have to explain why they need to do that 6 hour brick on Saturday, or why they want that new bike or those Zipp wheels.  There were actually many Iron couples there that week.  There was the wife who was current “Head of Household” because she beat her husband by 57 seconds in last year’s race.  According to him, "It's ON" this year.  There was the other wife who is always behind after the bike, but never fails to reel in her husband on the run to win.  And at the finish on race day, I watched more than one couple cross the line hand in hand.  Awww.

Packet pickup!

Tasty bruschetta board for lunch.

After a fantastic lunch at a local wine bar, we scouted the bike course by driving the entire 37 mile loop. Afterwards, we went back to the expo to get body marked.  I've said this before, and I'll say it again.  I like getting body marked.  The simple act of stamping your race number onto your arms and your age onto your calf... in its own way legitimizes your claim to race day.  At most other triathlons, athletes get body marked on the morning of the race by volunteers with magic markers.  Ironman kicks it up a notch by offering the option to have the numbers stamped on days before the race.  It was a little ridiculous to have to wait an hour in line for this (there was a "stamping" line AND a "drying" line), but what else was I doing that day anyways?  Plus it looked cool!  Check it out...

741 Baby!  I'm HERE, and I'm LEGIT.  BRING IT!

Back to the banquet.  Mike Riley was talking now.  If you've ever seen videos of any Ironman race where you heard someone say "John Doe, you are an Ironman!", then you've heard Mike Riley's voice.  If you've ever signed up for any sort of race on Active.com, you're visiting the company he helped start.  Riley's been announcing Ironman finishes since 1989, and is pretty much a legend.  I thought it was pretty cool that he will be announcing MY name in 2 days if things go as planned.

Anyways, there's this thing he does at every Ironman banquet, where he asks everybody who's lost more than 30 pounds training for this race to stand up.  I only lost 20, so I didn't make the first cut, but many many other people did.  It was so inspiring to see how this race alone has transformed the lives of so many people in such a real way.  I actually got a bit emotional.  :)  Slowly, he asks people to start sitting down.  40 pounds.  50 pounds.  60.  By the time he got to 70 pounds, only one man and one woman remained standing.  80.  The man sits.  90.  100.  110.  The woman lost 110 pounds!  She only weighed 115 pounds that night!  Then we find out that she actually had weight loss surgery.  Honestly, I was a little disappointed.  Don't get me wrong.  I think it's awesome that she took control of her life and did what she did, but the guy who lost 70 pounds the old fashioned way should have gotten a bit more recognition!

Gear explosion in Deb's living room.

After the banquet, we drove out to Deb's house in Mesa, only 15 minutes away.  The dinner was so bad that we picked up some Arby's along the way.  Mmmm.  Arbys!  :)  Deb had a gorgeous house with 4 cats.  I love cats!  After packing up my transition bags, it was finally time for bed.  Tomorrow was bike check-in and transition bag drop off day.

Checking my lovely Cervelo one last time.

Confessions of a first time Ironman (pt.1)

It’s 1982.  Little fourth grade Stephen is watching the Hawaii Ironman triathlon on “ABC’s Wide World of Sports”.  Back then, marathons were something only crazy people did, while triathlon was pretty much unknown in the sporting consciousness.  Here they were, showing the craziest of triathlon of all.

Swim 2.4 miles in the roiling ocean.  Bike 112 miles over lava fields.  Run a 26.2 mile marathon.  All in one day.

It even had a cool name!  Ironman.  As I sat there transfixed by the drama unfolding on screen, my little brain struggled to comprehend those distances.  These athletes seemed superhuman.  I don’t remember who won the men’s race, but it was the women’s finish that branded Ironman in my mind forever:

It takes a special kind of sickness to watch that as a little kid and decide this is something you want to be able to do one day.

December 2009.  I’d already completed several triathlons of ever increasing distances that summer, maxing out at the “Olympic” distance.  I had a Half Ironman lined up for the following March, but making the leap to the full distance was still something I hadn’t yet seriously considered.  There were too many reasons why not.  The distances were mind boggling.  I’m a crappy swimmer.  I’d never run more than 6 miles in my life.  I didn't really know what the training involved, but I’d probably have to give up hiking, camping, dancing, and vacations in order to make time (yep, yup, yes, and... yeah).  The distances *still* weren’t getting any less mind boggling.

It might seem strange to hear this, but completing your first Ironman is actually relatively easy.  The hardest part?  Signing up.  You need to be in the right state of mind to be able to decide 10-12 months in advance to plunk down the $600 (in some cases $1200) non-refundable, non-transferrable entry fee.  Injured?  Too bad.  Pregnant?  Too bad.  Once you’re in, you’re in.  You're essentially making a promise to yourself to BE at that finish line.  For the longest time, I just wasn’t able to do that.

I felt my state of mind shift one morning while having dim sum with a table full of Ironman finishers.  People often ask me why I do triathlon.  I like to say that I fell in with the wrong crowd.  Well, this was the crowd.  People who schedule multiple marathons like social events.  Others with multiple IM finishes.  Still others who were racing multiple IMs in the same season.  Nobody actually tried to talk me into signing up for anything.  But what struck me was how normal everybody was.  Guys and gals of all different ages and body types, some of whom you'd never have guessed were IM finishers unless they told you.  I started to think that maybe I could do this too.

Dim sum with the wrong crowd.  One week before I signed up.

More dim sum with more of the wrong crowd.  One week before the race.

That night, I chatted a bit with my friend from high school who also had just completed an IM.  I needed one more push.  Just do it, he said.  No matter how many more shorter races you do, it’s never going to get easier to sign up.  Once you’re committed, everything else will take care of itself.  Two days later, I took the plunge.

11 months after that, I found myself jumping into the 61 degree waters of Tempe Town Lake, wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I Believe

I believe in signing up for swim races before signing up for swim classes, in long morning workouts followed by lazy afternoons, and that one day I’ll qualify for Boston and finish an Ironman triathlon.

I believe in Science over Religion, logic over zealotry, and NPR over Fox News.

I believe that religion is personal, but morality, kindness, and love are universal. The Mountains are MY cathedrals. I am baptized in alpine lakes.

I cannot believe we’ve spent over a trillion dollars on war while our schools lay off teachers.  It makes me feel sad and helpless.

I believe in ninjas (not pirates), narwhals, and bacon. Sweet, sweet bacon in all its forms. Prosciutto is a particularly fine incarnation.

I believe in USDA Prime pan fried on cast iron, in duck fat. Oh Boy do I believe that!

I believe I can teach anybody how to dance salsa.

I believe some beliefs aren’t socially acceptable and shouldn’t be shared on the Internets.

I believe in kissing in public, holding hands, and all sorts of mushy embarrassing things.

I believe in fun-crazy. Not drama-crazy. Much like the definition of porn, the line isn't clear, but I know it when I see it.

I believe in instant connections, effortless conversations, and writing love letters by hand.

I believe the best is yet to come.