Ironman Revisited Part II

This is a revised version of a race report recounting my experiences racing Ironman Arizona in November, 2009.

Part II



Still cold, I tried to hurry through transition. The volunteers helped me get ready for the bike portion. I was unfocused on what I was doing and uncoordinated. I finally got out to the bike course, but I can’t seem to go very fast even though my heart is racing. Since I was dazed and not concentrating, my bike veered into orange cones on the road, the wheels flipped and I slammed down on my shoulder into the street. I scraped my knee and elbow and my shoulder hurt. With help, I continued on. I ignored the bloody wounds.
The bike route is mind numbing to go up and down it three times, past desolate empty land, the industrial buildings, ruined houses, and the garbage dump. It is fairly scenic near the top of the hill, where you can see desert vistas and rocky mountains. The road can capture the howling wind, making it hellish to ride a bike on. When I was bike training on it and going up and down numerous time, I have to shut off my mind from dwelling on the monotony and the distance that would otherwise make me feel like screaming. During the race, I had to concentrate on keeping myself fed and riding hard enough so that I didn’t miss the time cut-offs. Few spectators are out on the highway, so I didn’t even have that to keep my spirits up.
I distracted myself from the pain and monotony by watching the acrobatic maneuvers of a guy in front of me peeing while riding a bike. Somehow he must of managed to whip it out of his bike shorts, because pee was shooting off to the side. Normally people just let go and it streams all over the bike seat. I had never done this and never will. I try to stay well back of these people.
I finished the first loop at a speed of 13.6 mph, which was too slow. The first part of an ironman bike ride is supposed to feel good because fatigue hasn’t set in yet, but I felt miserable. This bike portion wasn’t going the way I had planned. If I didn’t make up time, I wouldn’t finish before the cut off. It felt like my first attempt in 2008, where the heavy weight of failure loomed. At least when you finish the lap at the Mill Avenue bridge, lots of people are cheering you on. It gave you energy to endure the highway again. If I could pick up speed, I had a fighting chance to beat the three and four o’clock cut-offs.
The second loop I picked up speed. It was like night versus day from the first loop. I felt much better and had an inkling of hope that I was going to finish the bike portion. I was pretty sure I was going to make the three o’clock cut-off at the bottom of the hill by the time I reached the top of the hill. A small victory.

I finished the second loop at 2:35 p.m. I was on new ground-an actual third loop, which I didn’t get to do the first race I tried, because I missed the three o’clock cut-off. I was excited. By this time, the shadows were getting long and the light was turning orange. The highway was getting more and more deserted. Most of the bike riders were done. This is mentally tough because I thought that the faster riders were better bike riders than me. I ignored the negative thoughts and just kept riding. I felt O.K, climbing the hill, but I was ready to be done. I beat the four o’clock deadline at the top of the hill by twenty minutes. As I was descending the hill, I saw people still desperately trying to beat the cut-off. One person was riding a hand cycle. I hoped that he made it.

As I was descending the hill, I was mentally preparing myself for the run. I passed the 109 mile mark. I was riding a bike farther than I had ever done before. The light was fading, but I was beating the sunset and the 5:30 cut-off for the bike. My shoulder hurt, my butt hurt and my quads hurt, but the memory of the pain was fading. I had broken barriers in myself and was on my way to being an ironman.
As I came into transition, I saw my coaches cheering me. We had been on a long journey together from my despair of not finishing a race, to the joy of finishing a goal I had been chasing for two years. I had learned that I couldn’t accomplish what seems like insurmountable goals by myself. I had to take baby steps on an impossibly long journey with the help of people along the way until one day I found that I was where I wanted to be. I had to overcome self-doubt and have a little faith that things will work out.
I dismounted my bike and hobbled to the change tent. My legs felt like blocks. The volunteers helped me to change and I struggled to put on my socks. I let someone bandage my elbow and knees, even if it didn’t matter at this point. I was tired and wanted to be babied, but I knew I had to get moving.