http://wassdoc.blogspot.com/2010/05/st-george-ironman-race-report.html
The thing that still sticks out to me today was the nervous excitement of race morning. I'd first contemplated doing an Ironman in 1992 when I did my first triathlon. Eighteen years later, nearing my 51st birthday, and just 6 months removed from fracturing my left hip socket and clavicle, I was really going to do it. In many ways, I can still savor the feeling of race morning, of the mass start (there were still mass starts back then), of hearing Mike Reilly announcing that morning. It was dark, but as the sun came up over Sand Hollow Reservoir, it was electric. This was the first Ironman to be held in St. George, and that made the experience all the more special. Two evenings before, they held a banquet in the Convention Center. Sitting at a table with other first time Ironman participants, as well as meeting others like Susan Haag who was doing her 50th! I'll never feel the same way at an Ironman banquet as I did that evening. In fact, I generally don't go to them anymore. I'll never be able to duplicate the feeling that I had on race morning.
When the gun went off, I got kicked in the head. I was used to that back then. Ironically, the mass start swim at St. George wasn't that congested. No one wanted to wade into the 52-58 degree water any sooner than they had to. In fact, most of the swim was uneventful, and I swam just under 1:12. Not bad for my first Ironman! It was cold, though, and it turned out that there was a fairly high DNF rate from the swim itself, as a number of people became hypothermic. The slower your swim time, the greater the chance that your day was finished before it started. I'll never forget the tent in transition, I felt like Tom Hanks when he first comes out of the water on Omaha Beach in Saving Private Ryan. The tent was steamy due to the cold air, and everyone was numb from the cold water. It took me about 10 minutes to get myself ready for the bike, and within the first mile, I dropped my bottle of nutrition! Fortunately, I knew well enough to stop and pick it up, losing perhaps 30 seconds, but saving myself from getting into a caloric deficit early on.
The greatest lesson from St. George was that hypothermia on the swim, and cold weather in particular, leads to increased metabolism and caloric intake. While I took in plenty of calories, by mile 80 of the bike, the light switch flipped off. In retrospect, I should have slowed down and increased my nutritional intake. I kept pushing. It was a lesson that took me several IM's to learn. Nevertheless, I persevered. By the time I got to the run, however, the ability to run the whole marathon, on what was and probably still is to this day, the toughest ironman run course ever, was off the table.
Somehow, I knew enough how to deal with this adversity. I started walking every uphill section. And, running every downhill section. Fortunately, on the original St. George run course, there were no flat sections! Ultimately, I figured that I ran 13.1 miles and walked 13.1 miles. Remarkably, my marathon time was just under 5 hours. Quite respectable for a first time Ironman, especially considering my run preparation had been hampered by a hip and pelvic fracture.
Coming down the finishing chute at Ironman St. George in 2010 was a feeling that I'd never felt before, not in my first marathon, not in any race. Hearing Mike Reilly say "Michael Wasserman, You Are An Ironman," was the single greatest feeling at that moment. I will admit, while subsequent Ironman finishes aren't quite the same, this is a feeling that never gets old. It's remarkable that, no matter how fatigued one is in the final miles, there is energy to be found in the Ironman finishing chute. I look forward to experiencing that feeling in Kona, and I know it will be uniquely special.
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