It's finally here. When I started this journey over three years ago, I never really thought of doing an Ironman. I really wanted to get myself off the couch and feel better. My arthritis was eating me alive from the inside out and I needed to lose some weight and get active. As things progressed, so did my quest to find my limitations. The motto of Ironman is "Anything Is Possible". I would test this theory on this day. It had been close to 14 months since my fateful registration day last year when Jeff convinced me I could do this and he would help. I remember wanting to throw up in the bathroom after I formally paid my entry fee.
A couple days before the race, my running buddy Joe sent me a quote to think about:
"Do not disturb yourself by picturing your life as a whole; do not assemble in your mind the many and varied troubles which have come to you in the past and will come again in the future, but ask yourself with regard to every present difficulty: 'What is there in this that is unbearable and beyond endurance?'"
- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
I have a habit at times about worrying about things that have happened to me in previous races, especially in the water. None of that is really relevant. Joe also sent me a story about an ultra runner who had overcome a very painful race, did not quit and finished despite his body turning on him. These words and story would help on this long anticipated day. My coach, Jeff Bennett, gave me some hand written advice to get me through this day as well. I etched this in my mind.
Pre-Race:
I slept ok. Not great but better than expected. I woke up at 3am to take a shower. I like to shave and get clean before heading to a race. I drank one of my Ensure drinks before getting in the shower. Jeff told me I needed calories before race time. I usually have a real hard time with solid food so I decided to go with Ensure as my primary calorie source. After my shower, I ate a honey stinger bar and that went down well. I took another Ensure and a bottle of Skratch to drink before the swim. We parked in a garage close to the finish line. I had to drop my special needs bags (one for the bike and one for the run) in a park near the Ironman Village. We then boarded buses to Boulder Reservoir. Everyone had to go via bus. No other transportation would be allowed. Ironman had school buses running non-stop back and forth to the reservoir. We finally boarded a bus and headed out. I aired my tires one more time and put my GPS tracking device (shout out to myathletelive.com) on the aero bars on my bike. A quick trip to the port-a-potty and then I headed back to the family. My stomach was really nervous. I did drink the bottle of Skratch Labs but did not attempt to drink my second Ensure. I meant to take a Shark Salt before getting in the water but forgot to do that as well. This would haunt me later. The swim set up was a little different. In an Ironman race, it is common to have everyone start together at the same time. This was the largest Ironman race ever attempted and I heard close to 2500 athletes showed up to race. There were approximately 2900 registered. You will need to imagine a two lane boat ramp. There were volunteers holding signs with swim times on them. Each athlete was to self seed themselves by expected finish. I figured to go 90 minutes and jumped in with the 1:16-1:30 group. My group was near the back. After the pros (6:20am), the national anthem and then the cannon shot for the age groupers at 6:30am, we started moving down the ramp into the water. A timing mat was set up close to the water and your time did not start until you crossed the mat. The walk up the ramp to get in line and the walk down to the water was painful. The asphalt was rough like chip seal and there was little rocks and debris that really beat up the feet. It took around 15 minutes to reach the timing mat. My goggles were fogging up so I was constantly battling that problem on the way down. There was very little conversation among the field. Most of my other races are littered with mindless chatter. Today was an exception. I don't know if it was fear or concentration. You could feel the electricity and excitement as we worked our way to the water. I felt calm and at peace on the way down. There really wasn't a whole lot I could do to change the outcome at this point. It was time to go.
Swim: 1:32:41
I did not get a chance to warm up in the water before the race. I think the reported water temp was 74.6 degrees. The air temp at 6:30am was in the low 60s. The water felt really cold when I wondered in from the boat ramp. I decided to stay right away from the buoys at the start and get adjusted to the water temp before swimming hard. I breast stroked for about 10 yards. Filled my wet suit with some water and got my face adjusted to the water. After a few minutes, I started swimming. I intentionally did not try to find the last buoy on the first leg of the swim. We were swimming a counter clockwise triangle. We basically swam to the farthest points of the lake along the dam. I forgot to change my watch from lap swim to open water swim so my GPS did not track my course. I am really bummed about that. Since I breathe to my right, I did not see the buoys as I swam. I don't particularly swim straight as a general rule. I know in a swim of this distance, I will add a few hundred yards going off course. There were people to my right so I trusted they were sighting for me. I really don't think I verged too far off course at any point. I did pull up and look after 15 minutes to see if I could find the red turn buoy. It was a long way to the first turn. They had lots of buoys in the water, which is great for staying on course. The early part of the swim was crowded but not crazy. I bumped a few people and they bumped me. Rubbing is racing when it comes to the open water swim. I never felt tired or uncomfortable to the first buoy. It just seemed like the turn would never come. Once it did, there was a huge log jam at the buoy. Seems like a turn buoy is like a stop sign for some people and things get really jammed up. I stayed about 10 meters wide of the turn and tried to sight a line to the next turn. It was going to be a long swim to the next turn. The spacing was good on the second leg and I was finding some clean water to swim in. All of the sudden, my left hand smacked something. It was someone next to me. I don't know where they came from. The middle finger on my left hand smacked something hard on his hand. I dislocated my finger. After a few strokes, the pain was not subsiding. I grabbed my finger and put it back in joint. Instant relief and I continued on. The second leg had me feeling twinges of cramping in both of my calves. This is not uncommon in training swims as well. I was really trying not to involve my legs too much because of my previous cramping issues. I instantly remembered failing to take my shark salt before swimming. Damn it. I managed to stave off full on cramps in the second leg. The third leg was the drive for home. I could see the beach after rounding the buoy but it was really far away and never seemed to get closer. My left calf finally succumbed to a cramp and crippled me with an estimated 800 yards to go. I could not find a paddle board, jet ski, or boat so I had to try and stretch this out in the water. After a minute, the cramp went away and I was able to continue swimming. I could feel the knot in my calf the rest of the way. This was not good for the rest of my race. As I neared the shore, the noise from the crowd, the sound of the music, and the PA guy grew louder. Despite the few setbacks, my swim was actually really good. No panic, no choking feeling from my wet suit, and I managed to swim the entire distance without taking a rest. I was very happy to reach swim exit. I made it in 1:32:41. I took a nice conservative approach and felt good about the swim.
T1: 12:23
The bike gear bags were in a chute to the right of the swim exit and were numbered in sections. We picked up our gear bags and went into the changing tent. I had decided to change into my K-Swiss bike kit. The bike shorts are very comfortable and I wanted as much comfort as possible while staring down a 112 mile bike ride. Since my goals were not necessarily time oriented, I wasn't going to jeopardize finishing because of some stupid time saving move. The changing tent was nasty and smelled of wet grass and mud. My bag had my bike kit, arm coolers, bike shoes, helmet, socks and a little nutrition in there before I took off. I had to put my goggles, swim cap, ear plugs, and wet suit back into the bag. I put a small towel in the gear bag to help dry off a little bit. My body was wet and I had one hell of a time pulling the jersey on. I had a volunteer kid who was helping me with everything. He grabbed me a water and helped get everything on. What a rough job for that kid. I finally had everything on and thought I had everything stowed back in my bag. It was time to go. I thanked my volunteer and dropped my bag outside the changing tent. It was a long walk to my bike. I was near the bike out. When I got to my bike, I put my GPS chip on and took off to the mount line. I was in T1 for 12:23. Not bad for a change out of my wet suit and jammers into my bike kit.
Bike: 7:20:16
I mounted my bike and was looking around for my family. I had not seen them yet since the race started. I pedaled a few hundred yards and saw them on the side of the road leading to the exit of the reservoir. I stopped for a second and then started the 112 mile ride. There was a lot of climbing in the first 10 miles. I was fresh and felt ready to go. The weather was sunny but still cool at 8:30am. I tried to drink as much as possible to get ahead of my hydration. Gels or chews every 30 minutes during the ride. It was hard to hold back and not work hard at first. I was in conservation mode in the early stages. There is a little turn off of 36 to St. Vrain. It is all downhill to the turn around and is really fast. I may have touched 40mph in that section. Bad news was the climb back out. There were a few steep sections but I handled them well. Back on 36 it was time to head into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Most of the climbs were long grinding climbs and the downhill sections were the same. Somewhere close to 40 miles in, I reached for my Shark Salts. I had been taking one salt every hour. I put them in gum container with a flip top. I was going down a long downhill at about 30 mph. When I opened the flip top, all of my shark salt flew out the top. There is a lot of things that my mind was evaluating in a few seconds. This is bad. Can I make it without the shark salt? Will they have salt on the route? Ultimately, I had to have my shark salt. It's what I train with and it's an awesome product. I turned around and climbed the hill looking for my little white shark salts. I didn't know if they would be visible. There was a steady stream of bikes coming down the hill when I saw a little white cloud appear under a wheel up the road. That would be my shark salt. I pulled over and waited for gaps in the parade and grabbed as many as possible. I was able to retrieve at least 18 which was good enough to finish the race. Shortly after, we exited the canyons and entered the rolling prairie. The special needs station was at mile 55 and I was looking forward to getting there. The heat was starting to come up. Without a cloud in the sky, the sun was intense. A volunteer grabbed my bag and handed it to me. I fumbled with it for a few minutes and decided to find a tree and sit down to eat. Good decision. Ultimately, taking 5-10 minutes to power through the food I packed was a good thing. I ate a honey and peanut butter sandwich, pineapple, chocolate, and reloaded all of my nutrition for the second half of the bike. I was successful in eating and drinking everything I had at the special needs station. The wind had shifted to the S/SE and that was the direction we were headed for the next 30 miles. The term false flat must have been coined in Colorado. Roads look flat but they are really low grade up hill climbs for several miles. At this point, it was nearing 90 degrees with a slight head wind. I heard that many people registered 100 degrees off of their Garmin during the afternoon. People who went out too fast and were behind in their nutrition were starting to fall by the way side. For whatever reason, it was hard. Maybe it was the altitude, I don't know. I trained many 100 mile rides in Dallas in scorching heat. I'm not sure why the first 80 here were such a problem. We definitely did more climbing than I could simulate in Dallas. At 80 miles the road direction headed west back to Boulder. I was feeling cooked and expected the wind to help me. It did not and it was mentally defeating. I began to feel like I wasn't going to make it. There was an aid station at 90 miles and I just wanted to make it there. I was drinking at least a bottle and a half of Skratch between the aid stations. Aid stations are spaced every 15 miles. There was absolutely no shade in the prairie and no where to hide from the sun. I pulled in at 90 and reloaded my speedfill and one water bottle. They had cold water which was great. Mentally, it was about taking things in 5 mile chunks. The reservoir was going to be visible at 100 miles. There was some serious carnage setting in on the side of the road. People were laying down on the side of the road, resting, or paramedics were working with people. The numbers were escalating as the miles clicked by. At 100 miles, the course turned and headed up a hill affectionately known as the three bitches. It was a steep uphill that flattens some only to see another steep uphill and repeats a third time. After the third hill, there is lower grade climb to the top before turning right. I remember a guy standing on the top of the hill cheering everyone on saying this was the end of the hill and it was downhill into Boulder. These hills on 57th were the last big obstacle on the way to the finish. My legs were wasted and I just hung on to town. Once I entered Boulder, people were cheering again, cars were honking and it was mental boost of energy to reach the transition area. The dismount line was a welcome sight. I got off the bike and started walking back to the transition area when I saw Patty, Lance and Meghan. It was very good to see them. They asked how it went because everyone coming in was really tapped out. I don't remember what we talked about but I'm fairly certain my condition not being very good was a topic of conversation. It was a hard 112 mile ride for me and I had no idea how running 26.2 miles was going to happen.
T2: 17:55
I was not feeling an overwhelming sense of confidence heading into T2. A nice volunteer took my bike from me prior to walking on the track and I made sure everything I needed was on me. I left my bike shoes on as I crossed the track to pick up my run bag and headed to the changing tent. A lot of people must have cycled barefoot and left their shoes clipped in to their pedals. The black track must have been blistering hot if you had bare feet. I'm glad I left my shoes on. When I entered the changing tent, it looked more like a MASH unit than a race transition. People were passed out all over the place. Ice and water were being rushed to and from tapped out athletes. It was a mess. You really had to be there to believe it. Total carnage. I was at the back half of the pack and this is my first Ironman. I wanted to finish. I am as competitive as anyone you will meet but this race for me wasn't about setting some pace that no one will remember. I'm not going to Kona. The people in that tent are what this race is really all about. The people who put their heart and soul into something for the accomplishment. I looked around and decided in comparison, I didn't look that bad. I got my run gear on and decided to see what I had in the tank. Considering I stopped to talk to the family on the way in, changed into my running clothes and had the sun tan lotion volunteers lather me up, I don't think my transition was too bad. Like I said, I was not trying to qualify for anything except a medal. My T2 time was 17:55.
Run: 6:54:50
After getting sun tan lotion, I entered the Boulder Creek Path to start the run. The trail was lined on both sides for at least a couple of miles with screaming spectators and ringing cowbells. I had my name on my bib and people I didn't know were encouraging me. It was really nice start to the run. I had decided early on to try and run at least half the marathon in some form. When I left T2, my wife told me not to worry, I had plenty of time and not to push too hard if I didn't feel well. I was trying to do the math in my head and just gave up. I ran slowly for the first half mile and started to feel dizzy. I walked for a little while and then started a two minute run, two minute walk routine that I kept up for four or five miles. I started walking with a guy on his second lap named Doug. We ran a little when we felt like it. The dizziness was so bad I decided to go completely conservative and walk until the symptoms subsided. The turnaround at the east end of the course was between 6-7 miles in. There is no shade so I just kept power walking. My family was on the other side of the creek and were cheering for me. My son yelled over and said my friend Rich wanted to tell me I am an Apache Helicopter. Inside joke but made me feel better because I knew Rich and Joe were with me in spirit following me with my GPS tracker. Just before entering the parking lot aid station at Foothills and Pearl, I looked to my right. I stopped and said "Hey, your Craig Alexander!". He said something like "That's right mate, how ya doin". I asked him if I could shake his hand and he said absolutely. I told him I wished like hell I had his legs. He told me mine looked good and I would be ok. Unfortunately, he has no idea what my 51 year old legs felt like. That was cool unless it was a hallucination. I carried on and entered the trail section where the crowd was thick again. Felt really good to hear the roar of the crowd. It makes the pain subside for a few minutes. I was drinking and eating at every aid station. I drank some Skratch in the fuel belt I was wearing. I even drank some of that nasty Ironman Perform. I drenched myself with water and ice whenever possible. I couldn't shake the dizziness problem. I was perfectly able to run but I really worried my body was having some sort of issue that would make me blow up and not finish. I kept it conservative and moved as quickly as possible. My first encounter with special needs was a no go. I asked if I could catch them on the return and I was told yes. I just didn't really want anything at that point. The steady climb up to the turnaround in Boulder Canyon seemed much longer than my training run a few days earlier. I remember seeing some hippy woman walking down the course topless. She was getting jeers from the crowd and it was really funny at the time. Boulder, you never know what your going to see. On my return back to special needs, I was feeling ok but not great. It was daunting knowing another 13 miles was still left to go. I really didn't know if this was going to work out. I opened my special needs bag and the only thing in there I wanted was the pineapple cubes. I left the rest. I worked my way through the thinning crowd and ate my pineapple. The sun was going down. The trudge up to the southern turnaround was lonely. Only good thing was the chicken broth at the aid stations once the sun went down. It was delicious. There were not many people left on the course. I was really starting to lose focus. When I got back to the fork in the trail to head to the Pearl St. turnaround, I had trouble keeping my thoughts together. I asked a police officer if I was going the right way. He didn't know. I asked another guy if this was right. He didn't know, he was from Seattle. Finally, some runners were coming along and confirmed I was going the right way. If I had made a wrong turn, I think the race would have been over for me. Once I made it past the aid station at Foothills and Pearl, I saw my family again. They were a little more concerned. My wife told me to suck it up and get moving. She said I was slowing down and I needed to get going. Confusing because I thought there was plenty of time. They walked with me until the turnaround and came back towards the car. I asked my son if he could just make sure I didn't go off course and he did that for me until close to the end. It was a complete gut check for the last six miles. I have run a ton of miles with Rich and Joe as my son reminded me. I could remember running a 10k with Joe one day that was the most miserable run I have ever endured because of the wind chill on a very cold winter day. We have run in the heat and humidity at Northshore and Pilot Knoll together. We made sure each other were ok and motivated each other to keep going. We ran Grasslands in a torrential storm, high winds, lightning strikes and hail. We have been through a lot together. At some point, it wasn't about me anymore. I kept saying, do not quit on those guys. Do not quit on those guys. They are going to do Leadville in a few weeks. If I can't do this, how are they going to feel. At some point, motivation from any source is a good thing. I thought about stopping a few times but my son would not allow that. Whenever I saw him, he would make me keep moving. The last turnaround in Boulder Canyon was awesome. The volunteer manning that station was yelling like a drill sergeant about how this was the best turnaround because it was the last turnaround. I love that guy. He was great. I remember hitting mile 25 and blowing through the last aid station. I had no interest in anything at the last aid station. At this point, I felt like it was going to happen if my legs could just hold it together. They hurt like hell. The best part was seeing the cones separating the finish lane vs. the lane for lap two. I was going to the finish. The volunteer there pointed me to the right which was away from the finish. I still haven't grasped the concept of going away from the finish but getting to the finish. I was a little lost and she came running after me to make sure I was ok. I could hear the crowds and the voice of Mike Reilly in the distance. This time they were calling me. The bad thing about a course with loops is you can hear the ultimate destination but the call isn't always for you. So close yet so far away. This time it was calling my name. For some reason, once I looped around and ended up on Arapahoe there were about 20 feet of cones that sent me to the left before I could head to 13th St. towards the finish line. A volunteer was standing there and I asked her why I had to go over there. It didn't make any damn sense. I was promised at the last turnaround that there were no more turnarounds. Poor thing just kind of looked at me and said come over here. Going down Arapahoe, 13th St. was in sight. It was the end. At 11pm mountain time, some 16 hours after the start, the finishing chute came into view. The people had lined the railing and were going nuts. The closer you got, the louder it got. Suddenly, I had no pain. I didn't feel anything except an obligation to run this out. The people lining the barriers had their hands out for a high five. It was the greatest sports moment in my life at that point. To the left, I saw my wife and kids and felt the tears come. I ran over there and gave them a hug. I was going to make it. At the edge of the lights was Mike Reilly. Everything was like a dream, a very good dream. The light amongst the darkness. Kind of retrospective of this entire journey. At that moment, I felt a little sad for people who finish during the day. This was so much cooler. Reilly told me the most important words that can possibly be said at that moment. "Lance McCaskey from Coppell, Texas. You Are An Ironman!" He gave me a high five and a big smile on the way by. You really feel he knows what you have gone through and really makes it feel special. What a great guy. The noise was deafening, the crowd was amazing, for once in my life I had a small taste of what it feels like to do something great in front of a big crowd. For over a year I have been toiling away at 5:00am almost every day working my ass off to get ready for this one moment. I am not the fastest nor am I close to being the best. I will not go to Kona and I don't really care. I am an Ironman for life. The moment did not disappoint. I can see why people want to bottle that moment or have another taste. It is truly magic. For anyone who thinks they want to do this, they should. In the end, it is way worth it. Two years ago at Ironman Austin 70.3, I bought a chrome Ironman logo for my truck. I wasn't really an Ironman so I didn't feel like I could actually put it on my truck. It has been sitting in a drawer for two years. It will sit no more. The posts on facebook and the texts from family and friends were awesome. I didn't realize that many people were following along. There are tons of people to thank. Of course my great wife and kids have been through this with me from the get go. I was so glad to have them there. Just to see them on the course was huge. The amazing Goat Trail Endurance Racing crew. My Enduroshark friends and Shelby Nixon. My coach Jeff Bennett and many others. Family and friends make all the difference. It is a solitary sport but it is far from something you do alone in the process of preparing for the event. In the end, the spirit of many can fuel you through the pain of the day. Ironman is right. Anything Is Possible.
16:18:05
Video of the Finish
I'm Done. The End.
