Hmm, let’s see, where was I? Oh yes, marathon #12, ooh, this is a good
one…. I ran marathon #12 at the end of an already long day outside as it served
as the final leg of my first Ironman triathlon on August 31st, 2008. My apologies for the run on sentence, but I
think it represents what a very long day it was. Let me take you back to about eleven months
prior to race day, I had my heart set on racing my first Ironman in Wisconsin during
September of 2008, however, when I went to go sign up for that race it was
already sold out… I am talking minutes here… To say my heart was broken would
be an extreme understatement, but I just rolled up my sleeves and searched a
little deeper until I struck gold, or Bourbon maybe, Ironman Louisville was
slated for late August, and was open, perfect.
So, I paid the daunting entrance fee and sat back to realize I had a
little over a year to prep to be an Ironman, good times.
I mentioned in a previous post that
I was inspired by my brother Peter to become an ironman, so naturally I went
straight to him for advice on training, his advice was, and I am paraphrasing
here, “You need to be in the saddle all the time.” Got it, I need to ride my
bike a lot. I launched into my true training schedule about twelve weeks out
from the race, which was basically the beginning of June, and one may wonder
how I could have gotten all of that “saddle time” in while working twelve plus
hours a day? The simple answer is that I quit my job. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?”
Yep, it’s true. I have been trying to think of a way to put in writing why
and how we made that decision, Marion
and I, because honestly it was almost more him than me, he really wanted me to
have the proper time to train for the race, or just not do it at all, which was
not an option. However, the real answer
is that A LOT went into my decision to quit my career, let’s be honest, that is
what happened, but I will leave the nitty-gritty for my book, and leave you all
with the idea that I left to devote all of my time to training and becoming a
triathlete superstar and go pro within a year or so, which is kind of true, but
not all true.
The training for the race was
amazing. I was doing at least two work
outs per day for three months and followed a crude training plan that is
comical in retrospect, but sufficient, and I made it to Louisville confident I
would be able to finish the race with a smile on my face. The swim was hysterical, but awesome. I am not a great swimmer, so when I saw that I
met my goal time I was stoked, and ready to crush myself on the bike.
Oh, the bike… I know that I go on
and on about my love for running, and yes I do believe that I am a respectable
runner, but riding a bike is really my strong suit. It could have something to do with the fact that
my legs make up nearly 80% of my body, and never give me any Smart-alecky back
talk, so I made up a lot of ground on the bike leg from my less than stellar
swim performance, and was in a great spot to start the marathon. **In case any of you don’t know the distances
of an ironman triathlon, they break down like this: 2.4mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run, which means that
when I started my twelfth marathon I had already been “working out” hard for eight
hours in the hot, and humid late Summer Kentucky sunshine.
When I ran out of the transition
area Marion yelled at me, “Now just go run your usual four hour marathon!” I
can’t remember if I laughed out loud at him, or just to myself, either way I
thought it was the funniest thing I had ever heard, bless his heart. There was no way in the world I was going to
run the marathon anywhere near four hours, or was I?
The first couple of miles they sent
us over the bridge across the Ohio River, and you know what, I was feeling
pretty good. The course consisted of two
loops, and was flanked with a great crowd most of the way, and top notch
support with aid stations at every mile stocked up with water, wet sponges,
hoses, food, and flat coke. I chatted
with a few fellow runners along the route, and even though I was not moving
very quickly at all, I felt like I was flying.
I had never felt so in my element; and alive, months of hard work and sacrifice
had come down to these moments, and they felt priceless. The sun had set at around mile twenty two, and
it was nearly, not quite, but nearly dark when I rounded the final turn toward
the final shoot into the finish line set up at 4th Street Live, the
epicenter of Louisville nightlife. I
crossed the line hearing Marion, my Dad, and Hannah cheering for me, even now I
am tearing up, so I probably was then, too, because it the greatest experience
of my life, so far. The crazy part was
that I felt good, great even, and was smiling from ear to ear, I was an
Ironman.
My finish time was 12:52 and
change, about an hour faster than my goal time, and my marathon split was 4:28,
not a PR marathon time of course, but I knew I could do better next time…
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