Tweet
Hi everybody,
Well, I did it again. Ironman Cozumel was great this year. My wife signed up this year too. And my whole family came out to cheer us on. Here's the high (and low) points of this year's race.
Last year, I was surprised by how everything but my MS tried to stop me from crossing the finish line - tropical storms, heat, cramping, wind, etc. This year, MS decided to "participate" in my race. But we'll get to that later.
The swim start, like last year was total chaos. At the start, about 3,000 people unleash a year's worth of training, nerves, and expectations. I spent the first 800 meters trying to relax- it's a long day ahead. Don't let that guy ahead kick you in the face. Keep a good line to the turn buoy. Speaking of turn buoys - If you've every seen the movie "Thunderdome" you have an appreciation for what turn buoys are like in a triathlon. Get around the first two turns and now I have a nice long mile or so with the current. Name of the game here is to establish a nice rhythm. Feeling great. Hit the last turn to head for home and the current hits me like a brick wall. Felt like I was on a swimming treadmill. Working hard, but going nowhere. Eventually I finish the swim with a slower time than I wanted, but I'll make it up on the bike. Found out later, about 300 people did not finish the swim.
Run through the transition, grab my bike, stuff a PBJ into my mouth and pray to God it gets along with all of the salt water I swallowed during the swim. Don't want to be that guy barfing in front of his family as I mount my bike. My family already thinks I'm a nut.
As I get rolling on my bike, I start smiling a lot. It's hot, it's windy. But when do you get to ride your bike around an island with people cheering for you? My family is amazing - they had different posters on each lap. I really looked forward to seeing them on each of the three laps. About three quarters of the way through the first lap, I see a familiar bike ahead. How the heck did my wife get so far ahead of me on the swim?! Going to have to put some rocks in her swimsuit next year. All systems go for her. We chat for about 5 minutes riding with the wind, and then I'm off again. We'll see each other again on the run. On the last bike lap, I start to notice more carnage than usual. Once you get above mile 80, weird things can start to happen. People are tired. Pass a few bike wrecks. One looks pretty bad, but the ambulance is there right away. At the aid station at mile 90, an athlete almost collides with me. At mile 110, another guy hits a manhole cover and goes down hard. But my number was not up today. I rollled into T2 with a personal best 6 hour bike split. I felt like a German train - exactly on schedule.
On to the run. Specifically mile 6 of the run. The ground starts to become really unstable. Like the deck of a ship in a rolling sea. Look at my watch to check the time, and I can't see it. Crap. MS. So I start to walk and plan how I'm going to fix this situation. I look down at my race suit and notice I'm covered in salt. I've been taking salt pills all day - no cramping. But maybe my MS is acting up because I haven't gotten quite enough salt. One thing I've noticed during training is that my margin for error is really tiny with nutrition. If it gets just a little out of whack, the wheels come off with weird MS stuff. So I go in search of salt- pretzels, nuts, gatorade at aid stations - and at mile 13, I start to feel better. And I start to run again.
Running through town on the second of three laps, the crowd is crazy. People cramming the road so closely that we were running single file. Everybody patting you on the back and physically and emotionally pushing you forward. "Animo, Animo!" It was one of the most amazing experiences I've had. The people of Cozumel know how to host an Ironman.
At mile 23 of the run, I look at my watch. If I can pick it up just a little bit, I can meet my goal. But I'm getting dizzy again. My body says no. I'm tired. I can't see well. Just stop for a minute. Then I thought, "this is basically the same crap I deal with daily with MS. So just suck it up and run!" So I ran.
And as I heard the announcer say in Spanish "You are an Ironman!" I raised my hands over my head and saw I beat last year's time by almost an hour and a half. Not bad. Not bad at all. Oh yeah, and did I mention that my wife beat the pants off of me? Going to have to put some rocks in her running shoes too.
Now I'm off to get my Tysabri infusion in my Ironman finisher shirt!
Well, I did it again. Ironman Cozumel was great this year. My wife signed up this year too. And my whole family came out to cheer us on. Here's the high (and low) points of this year's race.
Last year, I was surprised by how everything but my MS tried to stop me from crossing the finish line - tropical storms, heat, cramping, wind, etc. This year, MS decided to "participate" in my race. But we'll get to that later.
The swim start, like last year was total chaos. At the start, about 3,000 people unleash a year's worth of training, nerves, and expectations. I spent the first 800 meters trying to relax- it's a long day ahead. Don't let that guy ahead kick you in the face. Keep a good line to the turn buoy. Speaking of turn buoys - If you've every seen the movie "Thunderdome" you have an appreciation for what turn buoys are like in a triathlon. Get around the first two turns and now I have a nice long mile or so with the current. Name of the game here is to establish a nice rhythm. Feeling great. Hit the last turn to head for home and the current hits me like a brick wall. Felt like I was on a swimming treadmill. Working hard, but going nowhere. Eventually I finish the swim with a slower time than I wanted, but I'll make it up on the bike. Found out later, about 300 people did not finish the swim.
Run through the transition, grab my bike, stuff a PBJ into my mouth and pray to God it gets along with all of the salt water I swallowed during the swim. Don't want to be that guy barfing in front of his family as I mount my bike. My family already thinks I'm a nut.
As I get rolling on my bike, I start smiling a lot. It's hot, it's windy. But when do you get to ride your bike around an island with people cheering for you? My family is amazing - they had different posters on each lap. I really looked forward to seeing them on each of the three laps. About three quarters of the way through the first lap, I see a familiar bike ahead. How the heck did my wife get so far ahead of me on the swim?! Going to have to put some rocks in her swimsuit next year. All systems go for her. We chat for about 5 minutes riding with the wind, and then I'm off again. We'll see each other again on the run. On the last bike lap, I start to notice more carnage than usual. Once you get above mile 80, weird things can start to happen. People are tired. Pass a few bike wrecks. One looks pretty bad, but the ambulance is there right away. At the aid station at mile 90, an athlete almost collides with me. At mile 110, another guy hits a manhole cover and goes down hard. But my number was not up today. I rollled into T2 with a personal best 6 hour bike split. I felt like a German train - exactly on schedule.
On to the run. Specifically mile 6 of the run. The ground starts to become really unstable. Like the deck of a ship in a rolling sea. Look at my watch to check the time, and I can't see it. Crap. MS. So I start to walk and plan how I'm going to fix this situation. I look down at my race suit and notice I'm covered in salt. I've been taking salt pills all day - no cramping. But maybe my MS is acting up because I haven't gotten quite enough salt. One thing I've noticed during training is that my margin for error is really tiny with nutrition. If it gets just a little out of whack, the wheels come off with weird MS stuff. So I go in search of salt- pretzels, nuts, gatorade at aid stations - and at mile 13, I start to feel better. And I start to run again.
Running through town on the second of three laps, the crowd is crazy. People cramming the road so closely that we were running single file. Everybody patting you on the back and physically and emotionally pushing you forward. "Animo, Animo!" It was one of the most amazing experiences I've had. The people of Cozumel know how to host an Ironman.
At mile 23 of the run, I look at my watch. If I can pick it up just a little bit, I can meet my goal. But I'm getting dizzy again. My body says no. I'm tired. I can't see well. Just stop for a minute. Then I thought, "this is basically the same crap I deal with daily with MS. So just suck it up and run!" So I ran.
And as I heard the announcer say in Spanish "You are an Ironman!" I raised my hands over my head and saw I beat last year's time by almost an hour and a half. Not bad. Not bad at all. Oh yeah, and did I mention that my wife beat the pants off of me? Going to have to put some rocks in her running shoes too.
Now I'm off to get my Tysabri infusion in my Ironman finisher shirt!
Comment