Ironman World Championship Race Report

In a previous blog I wrote that participating in the Ironman World Championship was the “icing,” and not the “cake.  That was based on the concept that it’s the journey that matters.  Over the past ten years, I’ve been on a journey that culminated today. I’ve trained harder than ever, and I came to Kona excited and ready to have my best possible race.  After doing the 10K and then the practice swim, I felt like I was coming down with a cold, but it turned out that I was having really bad allergies.  When my allergies act up, I’m prone to sinus infections. I spent the week doing everything in my power to ward off a sinus infection.  I was feeling a little better yesterday, but woke up this morning with a lot of discolored mucus and an elevated resting heart rate.  I had only one choice on how to deal with this circumstance, by ignoring it.  I woke up early, and did all of my usual preparations before making my way down Ali’i drive to the race.  As I walked down Ali’i, I actually had tears in my eyes.  I was really doing this! 

The Ironman World Championship had swim waves for the first time ever this year.  The Legacy Program wave, called the Kukui wave, was the last to start at 7:30 am.  I figured that Legacy athletes, who comprise all age groups, and include both men and women, would represent a typical cross section of swim capabilities.  There were probably around 200 people in this wave, and I’m very comfortable with starting near the front under these circumstances.  It was hard to know how many in our group were faster than me, so I started in the middle and at the front, figuring that I’d gradually angle in and try to catch on to the feet of someone who was swimming at about my pace.  I just tried to find a similar effort as the one I had in the practice swim last weekend, and focus on getting my elbows up in order to protect myself.  As we got close to starting, I went horizontal, and got prepared to swim. From the moment the cannon sounded, I knew that I was going to have a solid swim.  I was swimming with good form, drafting, and moving smoothly forward.  I realized that I was actually swimming in a pack.  A bit of a challenge came as we swam into the preceding waves.  Prior to today, I’d estimated that I would probably pass over 200-250 slower swimmers from the other waves, and would hit the wave that started five minutes ahead of us after about 10 minutes.  I was spot on!  From then on, it was a bit of a game of swimming through the slower swimmers ahead of us.  There wasn’t going to be anybody swimming past me after the first few minutes, but I would be swimming past a bunch of other people.  It turned out not to be too much of an issue, as slower swimmers tend to swim a little further from the buoys and don’t really want to be swum over.  Also, the new wave format worked as it should, spreading out the field, and letting the good swimmers fight it out with one another.  I’m sure that the slower swimmers weren’t thrilled to be constantly bombarded my fast swimmers in each wave, but fortunately, that wouldn’t be my worry today.  I literally was drafting in a pack until, before I knew it, I was at the boat.  Wow!  I was at the boat.  The boat was a lot smaller than I thought it was from watching this on television. Being there gave me a shot of adrenaline, and as I turned back towards the shore, I purposely turned more sharply than usual, as I’ve realized that I have a tendency to drift outward after such turns.  This worked great and I was heading in, but the pack had disappeared. The few feet I could find were having trouble keeping a straight line, so I drafted when I could and continued to pass slower swimmers.  I occasionally looked up to sight off the Marriott hotel, and I kept on a pretty decent line with the buoys.  One of the things I realized early on was that I needed to pay attention to my surroundings and think before I took a breath, to avoid accidentally swallowing water.  This became my number one focus, and I actually completed the entire swim without ever inhaling or swallowing water!  I continued to maintain my stroke cadence and form, and felt strong the entire way.  Before I knew it, I was in sight of the finish.  I increased my kick, but didn’t push any harder otherwise.  I began visualizing my transition plans. I got to the steps and realized that I’d just finished the swim at the Ironman World Championship!  Another shot of adrenaline.  The ocean had a lot more wave and chop from the practice swim last weekend, which ultimately slowed my down a bit.  Still, I was within 5 minutes of my goal.  My swim time was 1:20:54.  The best people in my age group swam near 1 hour, the guy who won at Boulder swam 1:15. I can "hold my own" with the best in the world.

After coming up the steps, the first thing I did was take my time going through the hoses.  I wanted to make sure that I didn’t have much excess salt on me.  I also used this as a good opportunity to take off my swimskin.  I grabbed my bike gear bag, went to the transition tent, sat down and went through my routine:  Put my sunglasses on, put on my headband, wipe off my feet, put left arm cooler (rolled up) on my left wrist, put left glove under arm cooler, put on left aero sock, put right arm cooler on my right wrist, put right glove under right arm cooler, put on right aero sock. Put my swimskin, goggles and swim cap in the bike gear bag, handed my bag to a volunteer and made my way as quickly as I could to my bike.  No need to push too hard, but I can jog because I won’t be putting on my bike shoes until I get to my bike. I’m in the second row, so I have a relatively long trek to my bike.  I get to my bike, sit down and put on my bike shoes, stand up, put on my helmet, lock it securely onto my head, grab my bike and walk my bike to the mounting area.  I’m starting the bike at the Ironman World Championship and again, I pause for a second to take in the moment.  I’ve watched this countless times on television, and now I’m here, being cheered on by the crowd!  My transition time is 7:11, solid!

I’ve done my homework and I know that the first 8-9 miles are hilly.  I don’t take in any fluids or nutrition during this time, which is new for me, but I want to make sure that my GI tract is well rested before I put anything into it.  I stay completely within myself on the first short hill, then on the longer climb up Kuikini Hwy, and finally, and most importantly, up Palani. My power meter isn’t capturing, but that’s ok, I usually race without looking at my numbers anyway.    I stay aero, except for steeper pitches.  I’m being passed by others, but I ignore that.  At the same time, I realize that something isn’t right.  I’m pedaling, but my legs don’t feel very strong.   I’m also feeling the humidity.  The best way to describe it is that I feel like I’m being smothered by a warm, wet blanket.  I realize how hot and humid it already is. I try hard not to have any negative thoughts, I’d promised myself that there was no point in having such thoughts today, but I’m struggling with the recognition that I’m just not feeling very good.  Going up Palani is exciting, and I just pedal comfortably, rather than use it as fuel to burn a match that I want to save for later.  

Once I get to the top of Palani, I turn left onto the King K.  I settle into my aero position and wait a few minutes to make sure that I’m comfortable and that my heart rate is down.  The feelings that I had are not going away.  In fact, they’re getting worse.  I actually think to myself, if this were any other Ironman, I’d pull the plug and quit.  But this is Kona, this is my dream, and that’s not going to happen. At least my GI tract is feeling fine, so I take my first fluids, and shortly thereafter my first gel.  When I get to the first bike aid station, I pull over to the right, stop, get a bottle of water, pour it on myself, get another  bottle of water, put it in the cage behind my seat. put another squirt of nutrition in my aero bottle, and fill the aero bottle up with water.  This all takes me ~30-40 seconds, but it’s well worth the time, it’s safe, and it is my plan to repeat this process throughout the day.  I look to my left, make sure it’s safe, and push off again.  I’d given this a lot of thought and decided that trying to do all of these things on the fly would cause me to go slower when I was fiddling with everything, and would be more dangerous as well.  I’m not worried about losing several minutes on the bike from doing this, as the act of staying hydrated and nourished will get me back all of those minutes, plus leave me in better shape for the run.

I continue my ride along the King K.  The course reminds me a lot of the original Boulder bike course. Lots of false flats and long gradual climbs.  I don’t worry about my speed, I just focus on maintaining a consistent effort.  I also take advantage of the fact that I’ve done 14 Ironman’s before.  I know what to do.  Stay in the moment, which really isn’t difficult today.  Hell, I’m racing in the Ironman World Championship!  This is my dream.  While I do my typical meditative thinking during the bike ride, I also just enjoy the lava fields and the ocean and the views.  This is much more beautiful than riding around Westlake 22 times, which I did just four weeks ago!  The ride is interminable.  I’m not going very fast, and when I get to mile 35, it strikes me how much further I still have to go.  The winds are picking up as well.  I can see people in front of me weaving from the crosswinds.  My feet are feeling some numbness.  This is actually something I’ve struggled with the past year, and I make a note to myself to consider the impact of ironman training and racing on the probable neuropathy that I will undoubtedly inherit from my grandfather and mother.  But that’s for a later blog, not for thinking during a race!

I’m on my way towards Hawi.  Just like I saw from my drive here, it’s not really a climb, especially not like the climbs that I’m used to doing.  Unfortunately, I'm going quite slow because of how I feel. It’s very windy, which means I need to stay relaxed and focused on the road.  I didn’t come to Hawaii to have any issues riding my bike.  My pace still is irrelevant.  Staying cool and hydrated is the priority.  Moving forward is the priority.  Avoiding burning matches is my priority.  My bike time will take care of itself, it’s not something that I’m concerned about.  Getting to Hawi and making the turn is another moment to revel in.  I make this my focus.  Because of how I’m feeling, I set small goals.  Getting to the turn around becomes my only focus.  I’ve watched this countless times on television.  Now I’m doing it. When I hit the turnaround, I feel a burst of energy.  I stop at the aid station, where I see a friend of mine from California. I pass special needs, where I didn’t have anything.  I’ve been around a number of other athletes the whole ride up to Hawi.  I never see them again.  The ride back is windy and undulating.  At times I’m able to go fast, at other times, I’m just focused on staying safe.  I continue, however to regularly focus on my nutrition and hydration.  I realize that no one has passed me since Hawi, and I’m passing people.

As I head back to the bike finish, I have some stretches of climbing and some downhills.  It’s hot, but continuing to pour water on myself, and especially on my arm coolers, is paying off.  I’m actually feeling better. I had set a conservative goal of 6 1/2 hours for the bike.  I’m going to go significantly longer.  Ironically, at one point, I misread my watch, and think that I’m heading for an 8 hour bike ride  At about Mile 80, I realize that this was a mistake and that I’m only looking to have a ride 45-50 minutes slower than planned.  I feel a boost in energy.  During some stretches I feel good about pushing the pace just a little, more to just have some variation in my muscles than anything else.  I never push too hard. As I hit the Queen K, I soon realize that the winds have changed, and I’m going to have headwinds the rest of the way in. Oh well.  Still, the ride back is going much better than the ride out.  It’s odd that I felt the doldrums at the beginning of the ride, but never over the last half of the ride.   I get back into town and realize that I’m about the finish the bike course at the Ironman World Championship!  Because of how I’ve been feeling, I’ve avoided giving any thought to my run.  There’s no reason to have doubts.  It will be what it will be once I get out on the run course.  In fact, I’ve begun to take the attitude that if I have a longer day, it’s ok, I want to enjoy every minute of this iconic race.  Why shouldn’t I?  I’ve prepared for this day, and it’s a day I’ve looked forward to for three decades.  I’m going to enjoy every minute of it!

Looking back at the bike, I stopped briefly at half of the aid stations, while slowly riding through the others.  I poured water on myself at every station, and maintained a solid hydration and nutrition schedule.  I took in about 1800 calories, and plenty of fluids and electrolytes.  I never peed, but I also never felt dehydrated.  In looking at the top athletes in my age group, the top 10-15 rode well under 6 hours.  They're amazing.  Once you get to those 15th and above, they were riding closer to 6 hours.  Here's what I found interesting.  my pace for the last 36 miles of the bike was similar to theirs!  I really did get energy back over the last half of the bike.

I arrive at the dismount area, unclip from my pedals and realize that I’ll be running the whole way around transition to the changing tent.  I stop and quickly take off my bike shoes, so I can run more freely.  On a positive note, I’m running, and my legs feel fine.  I grab my gear bag and enter the changing tent.  Off with my helmet and headband, off with my cycling gloves, off with my socks.  Dry off my feet, vaseline on the left foot, left sock on, left shoe on, vaseline on the right foot, right sock on, right shoe on.  Put my hat on my head, put my helmet, gloves, socks and shoes in my run gear bag.  Grab my race belt and hand my gear bag to a volunteer.  Ok, one more thing to do, run a marathon, and not just any marathon, the Ironman World Championship marathon!  My bike time is 7:19:50. Fifty minutes slower than "planned."  But actually pretty remarkable, considering how slow my first 60 miles were!

My transition is 8:08, pretty much as planned.

Before I leave transition, I think back to Ironman Chattanooga and how I forgot to fill up my water flasks.  I stop and get water, and am even able to put some ice in my ice bag.  I drink some water as well, and I’m off.  As I leave transition, once again, I appreciate the moment, the spectators and the location.  Starting the run has always been a big deal to me.  I know that I can finish.  Whether I can maintain a solid run all day is the real question.  How I start will impact how I finish.  There’s a short climb up Palani coming out of transition.  I walk this, and once I turn right, I start a slow jog.  My breathing pattern is key.  I will breath with every 6th foot strike, for at least the first 6 miles.  That’s my plan, and that’s what I do.  I stop at each aid station, refilling my flasks, taking in fluids, refilling my ice bag, and putting ice down my top and in my shorts.  It’s a routine I’ve refined over many races.  The run along Ali’i drive is one that I’m very familiar with.  I ran it with my friend Robert last year, and I’ve run the path three times since I got to Kona.  I’ve even got some Strava segments to make comparisons too!  It’s hot and humid, and so the key to the day is not running too hard.  I’m not wearing a HR monitor, because at this point, it wouldn’t make any sense.  But I know my effort. I stop at mile 2 to pee (note to self, don’t pour ice down your crotch just before you stop to pee!) Though I’m tired, my legs are fine. I know that I can run a marathon.  How the rest of me feels is irrelevant today.  I feed off the fact that I’m in Kona and living my dream.  At least there are some spectators along this part of the course, giving me a little extra energy.  I hit the turnaround on Ali’i and head back towards Palani.  That’s where the fun truly begins!  I actually identify a spectator who can send my wife a text.  She runs ahead and takes a photo of me as well!  

There is one hill prior to Palani that isn’t too steep, so I just slow down and run up it.  I’m ok.  I make the left turn and jog towards Palani.  This is the one section that I have already committed to walking.  Not only do I walk up it, but mentally I take another short break to appreciate what I’m doing.  This is an opportunity to take my time, recover a little, and prepare for the next major leg of this incredible journey.

I get to the top of Palani, turn left on the Queen K.  I already know that the next stretch is a bit of a false flat, but I get into a comfortable running rhythm.  I’ve already let my breathing speed up to every 5th foot strike.  While to some, this part of the run is “boring,” to me it’s the ultimate!  This is the part of the run course that I’ve watched on television for years.  The ocean is off to the left.  I’m in the moment, thinking about my family. As planned, I think about the races that got me here, especially the ones where I’ve persevered despite challenging conditions.  I’ve got on my 2012 Ironman St. George Finisher’s hat, it’s reminder that I can accomplish anything.  It’s also my fastest ever Ironman run.  Whether that changes today is up to Madame Pele.  Through Mile 12, I’ve kept my pace between 11 and 12 minutes/mile.  I’ll keep doing this as long as I can.  Well, that’s as long as I can.  There always comes a point in an Ironman where you have to make a decision on whether to keep pushing, and risk crashing and burning big time.  It can be the difference between finishing out the last miles with the Ironman “shuffle.”  I walk for a couple of miles, slowing down to 14 minute pace, before trying to pick up my effort again, which I do for a couple of miles, hovering in the 11 and 13 minute/mile range.  

I get to the famous Energy Lab. I’ve never been here before, but that’s ok. I get to enjoy it.  Again, I’ve “seen it” on television many times.  I try to run the downhill portion, knowing that I’ll walk the uphill. The sun is completely gone, but it’s still hot.  Ice continues to matter.  I take my small headlamp out of my race belt and put it on the bill of my cap, as well as attaching a couple of reflectors to my trisuit. I run into a few 75 years old, and try to keep up with them!   I’m heading back on the Queen K. Six miles, five miles, four…it’s getting real.  At this point, whatever pain, discomfort, fatigue that I have is irrelevant.  This is the last 4 miles of the Snowdrop Ultra, the last 4 miles of Ironman Chattanooga, the last 4 miles of countless 20 mile runs.  I let the mental side take over my body and go into cruise control. l actually hearken back to Ironman New Zealand and recall a strategy of alternating running for 20-40 strides  with walking.  I’m able to get closer to 12 minute miles again.  Before I know it, I make the right turn onto Palani and I’m running downhill!  This is amazing!  I make the right turn onto Ali’i Drive, and it’s real. I actually do this mile in under 10 minute pace! It’s surreal, the culmination of a 37 year dream.  I hear the crowd roaring, there’s no pain, there’s no discomfort.  I’m running down the finishing chute of the Ironman World Championship!  As I near the finish line, I hear Mike Reilly yet again, Michael Wasserman, 60 years old, you are an Ironman!

My run time was 5:31:04, my final time was 14:27:06.  While I always set time goals, I never judge myself on whether I hit those goals.  I only care about whether I gave it everything I had.  I know that I left everything out there today.  I honored and respected the Ironman World Championship, which was what this was all about.  On a side note, I was wrong about this being the icing on the cake. It is the cake!  

One final note.  This morning, after I got home, I took out my medal.  It reads "anything is possible."  I started crying.