Ironman: You Are Ready

UPDATE: The author of this Ironman ode is Bob Mina and not the person I initially thought it was. She was very up front about it when I told her I put it on CMS with her name attached. Bob sent me an email verifying his authorship and that he wrote it for IM Canada a few years ago. He is happy it is still making the rounds and would like you to feel free to share it with others, I would add with proper authenticity.

I think the beauty of this excellent piece is that regardless of the IM venue, you are transported there with this ode. I told Bob that if it was changed to the first person, (I instead of You) it would be a perfect visualization for an Ironman.
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Right now you've all entered the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.

You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until next year to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lies before you...and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately needs, your mind cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won't be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body already does. Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong.

You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.

It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk into the water with 2000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY long is finally here.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.

The helicopters will roar overhead.
The splashing will surround you.

You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.

The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the shoreline grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what happening, then you’ll head for the bike.

The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff can't wipe the smile off your face.

You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.

You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?

You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like hours. You reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.


By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today.


You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for every inch of road. The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.

You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon! You'll roll back - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise
will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back, with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.

You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike. You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts.

You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've worked for all year long.

That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good.

That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it won't last.

You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating. Maybe you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.

You'll make it to the halfway point. You'll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be
where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.

Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on. The brilliant sunshine will yawn. You'll be coming up to those aid stations fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.

You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches you…and puts a medal over your head... all you have to do is get there.

You'll start to hear the people in town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, and when you left on the run, and now when you've come back.

You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over. You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?" You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.

You'll hit mile 25. Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.

You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but you will run. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps.

Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You'll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the night sun made just for you.

They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.

The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.

You'll break the tape at the finish line, 140.6 miles after starting your journey. The flash will go off.

You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly...be capable of nothing more.

Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.

It will suddenly hit you.

YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!

You are ready.

PSA: Come prepared

The weather for the race this weekend will be around 90 degrees. Expect single digit humidity and no clouds. If your spectating or know someone who is please make sure you/they are prepared by following some simple rules.

1. Sunscreen. In Arizona you can get sunburned in the shade from UV radiation so make sure people where AT LEAST 30 SPF. This is not the day for getting a tan. Apply specifically to forearms, legs, face and back of neck. Don't underestimate the power of an umbrella.
   
2. Water/ Food. Buy a gallon for each adult. Drink often. Spectators usually stand in the same spot for longer than half an hour, to do so without hydration is tempting a bad fate. Don't be in a position of looking for water. If your not traveling the course, have some food in a cooler or that won't melt in a car. Sandwiches, chips, fruit. Heat and boredom will make you hungry.
   
3. Hat, chapstick. If a lady has a wide brimmed hat then bring it. But everyone should try to keep the sun out of the eyes and top of head. A scalp can still get a nasty burn with a full head of hair. With the lack of humidity its a good idea to have something for your lips to keep them moist.
   
4. Shade and sitting. Seek shade where you can and use it. Also if you have a folding chair or camp chair use it if your spectating by car or not walking far. Again you may think an umbrella is funny, but you'll wish had one at one point.
   
5. Location, Location, Location. I will say right now the start for IMAZ is maybe the most beautiful you will find in Ironman. At 7am the sun is just up and still golden. The swimmers go into the sun and the water is shimmering.
   
1. Being in the expo area and watching the swim start from the Mill Ave bridge is amazing but there will be around 8,000 people there with you. Plan to cheer people out and then get a good spot to watch the exit from T1 on the bike. That can fill a whole morning with very little walking for people.
   
2. A good alternative for late arrivals or people wishing to miss the send off crowds at the expo should park at the Starbucks or a close location to Scottsdale Road's bridge and walk to the middle on the east side. Swimmers go under the bridge here, traverse the buoys and head back. There is almost zero people cheering from this spot and if the swimmer knows people will be there on the bridge it will be very easy to give them a shout out from the water two times. (Hint-tell your spectators about any identifier you'll have in the water: a color logo on the top of the swim cap helps (i.e. a M-Dot, flag, personal logo) or if your suit has any colored accents like pink or green. The buoys are a couple hundred yards past the bridge so a swimmer can be watched for several minutes and people can look directly on top of big groups.
   
3. There are several turns on main roads leading out to the bee-line for the bike. A lot of people will stage at McDowell and Country Club, which is where riders enter and exit the bee line, its about half way on the course from either direction. There is a gas station on one corner with a bathroom and with a map if pretty easy to get in and out of the area avoiding closed roads. Middle of the day is the hottest with the least amount of people at the expo but pro's will be back by just after 12pm.
   
4. On the run course, parking is hard to find, as it is mostly around the expo and in Tempe. For people with the energy or ability research a parking spot near an Aid Station and walk to that. Along the north side of the lake, there is only parking along the Mill Ave Bridge/ Curry Road area. Not as many spectators in this area but good shade and some restrooms in the marina area. There is a park with a bathroom on Curry Road where an Aid Station will be and a hill that a racer might walk up if tired. A good place to rest and watch. Also easy to get in and out of with a map and there are parking option.
   

There is lots of food along Mill Ave in Tempe. Grilled Expedition and the Bamboo Club are my favorites but for faster fare look up Slices Pizza, plus a dozens of other good spots. On Scottsdale Road is an In & Out burger and a Starbucks. Monti's is right across from the finish line and is a great place to get out of the sun at the expo. On Priest and Curry, just off the run course is a Starbucks, Pier 47 pizza and Moe's southwest grill. I love this place, fast and big burritos and taco's and will be easy to get to by car and roads. The menu names are worth the visit.

Have fun and remind people to cheer for anyone they see in a bright orange tri top that says AZTRICLUB. There will be at least six of us and were easy to spot from a long way off.

The Weird Week

The week immediately before IM is always a weird one. Taper doesn't just mess with me but with Mistress. No more 6 hour rides, no more 3 hour runs. This means more time at home and THAT means learning to live in the home that Mistress makes. She actually likes that I am gone long enough to let her get stuff done and to blow out my hyperactivity.

Sunday morning I was home at 8:37am. Pretty rare. My 90 minute ride was scheduled for 10am. I looked at my watch and said, "If I have a perfect race, I'll be coming out of the water right now." Mistress responded, "It doesn't take any more time to have a great race than a good race. So have a great race."

Ah, crap. I can't handle that kind of mind blower right now.

On the flip side its much different mentally for me than it was a few year ago when I almost drown in Canyon Lake. Its a good way for me to self check against where I was. One year later I swam a hard Ironman Florida course with 4' high swells in 1:54, then a 1:44 at Arizona with a viral infection in my lungs. To even consider a IM swim in the 90's blows my mind.

Here is praying for a great race.

...and exhale

Not just with this race coming up but just my whole life in general has been under some tremendous stress since New Years. Had this been my first IM, I don't think I could have done it. As it is, I cracked a couple of times and my stress envelope is pretty big.

Today seems sort of anti-climatic but about 75% of that non-race stress is gone, as of this very hour. Which is a very very good thing.

Who the hell knows the outcome on race day. I've prayed and trained and worried. Its all over but the physical action now. I know the wind will blow hard on the bee line. I know its counter-intuative to look forward to a marathon just so I can finish a 112 mile bike. But today, right now, I feel some peace.

Activism?

I came home tired last night to an exaggerated Mighty Mo proclaiming loudly in the kitchen to Mistress and the dog that at school, "Pokie Bugs are dying and we have to build hospitals to save them!" By the obvious look on the dog and the mom, this 5 year old (on April 24th) had been on his soap box for quite some time on the issue. Quite literally since he has a step-up box to reach the counter.

I scooped him up for his shower and he went at it with me, pledging all the money from his piggy bank and all the loose change on the counter tops. He reminded me that, "A Mann protects the weak." (part of his prayers)

From my questions I have found out that Pokie Bugs are:

• Not class pets
• They are outside by the fence on the playground
• They are dying!!!!!!
• When they die they become bones and skin
• Mistress and I absolute had to to stop their dying by building Pokie Bug hospitals.

Mistress called me this morning to let me know she has witnessed the graveyard of Pokie Bugs. They are not really bugs, their some kind of weed and as the weather heats up they are releasing their spores, turning brown and dying. The husk and stalk are the skin and bones.

Mistress took the opportunity to tell him that they are not bugs but plants and when they die they are sending seeds to grow somewhere else. This seems to have made him feel better now that he can use his money for toys and not hospitals.

No son you don't have to use your money for building hospitals, mommy and daddy are doing that for you already. You just keep that imagination going and keep your nose to the bugs.

Rocket Fuel

I sat in a meeting today for nine hours. Long meeting. I am one of the very few people who brings a laptop and I am able to work on spreadsheets and other important work during that time. As it began to wind down in the final half hour and 50 people started getting punchy, I began closing down my open files. The final one, a .pdf , had been up all day and I hadn't even looked at it. As I called it up I saw the front page of my Ironman Athlete Packet that I'd downloaded last night.

RIGHT ON!

Scanning the document, page by page my excitement began to bubble over. Words like 'Gear Bags', 'Special Needs', 'Check In Times', even 'Rules and Regulations', flashed in my eyes. I remembered to find my race number online. 854. All my Ironmans have been three digit numbers. I began to mentally go through my checklist:

Slow down.
Don't eat or do anything I haven't done in that last three weeks.
Train.
Meditate on my race day, go through every process in detail.
Relax.
What is my race morning rituals.
What is the right mix of calories on the bike.
How will I eat on the run.
What did not work last time.
What did work last time.
Balance: work, rest and friends.
Sleep.
Don't sabotage yourself.
I've come so far, don't stop believing.
It's only 2.4 miles, 112 miles and a marathon.
Its a not a dream, its my reality.
I am ready.
I am ready.
I am.
Ironman.

Calling all comers...

Ironman is only one day, seventeen hours to be precise, less if your lucky.

But for those of us that are part of the blogesphere and specifically the Tri-Blog Alliance, the party is just getting started for Ironman Arizona just shy of two weeks away. So I want to make sure as sort of the Blog Ambassador for Phoenix that I get an accurate head count of people racing or spectating.

Duane will be coming in to watch the race. He is staying at Andy's who is throwing a ribald baccus on the Friday before the Sunday race. Last time I saw Duane he was the Most Inspirational person on the course during Soma last October.

TBC and Megan. TBC is coming to watch Megan's first IM and show her all the places he got fired from and bars he got kicked out of. I've never met Megan but she deals with Cheese so shes got a high tolerance for pain and poo jokes. TBC and I are pretty frequent acquaintances, the last we saw each other was earlier this year, he was trying to get me drunk at an airport. He did a fairly good job too, except I still wouldn't go into the bathroom with him, "to hold his bag."

I must profess that my three closest blogging buddy's will all be in town. IronBenny, Nytro and Bolder. No offense to anyone else but I have spent hours hanging out with, racing with and on the phone with these three people and we all live in different states. I can absolutely say that each of them has profoundly affected my personal life in a positive way, more so than I have ever alluded to on CMS. The way in which we all hope to have relationships with people we have met through the blogs and comment sections. Bolder in particular is coming to support me but get away from the snow, and Nytro is coming to eat my chocolate, drink my booze and report from the field. Benny is racing and if Mighty Mo has anything to do with it, playing dinosaurs.

Stronger. I have poured so much of my spiritual thought into her and her family over the last couple years. Meeting her for the first time last Fall, it made me tear up a bit. Yeah I can be emotional like that. I wished I could have spent more time with her then and now but our kids will be able to play together and that couldn't make me happier.

Anyone that I have missed, and I know there are, please let me know. I am sure there is a bunch of New Mexico Outlaws coming to town and of course a dozen AZTRICLUB members who are racing at Ironman. I have been quite myopic lately and would like to find a way to meet everyone I can. I feel really bad that year I was so sick I never got to met Wendy Buckner and only fleetingly saw Brent who is just the nicest guy.