When I started this blog I thought I would be a more prolific writer. Turns out, training for an IM, working full-time and trying to see your family all take away from your ability to write random musings. It has been almost 6 months since I finished (yes, finished) the Wisconsin Ironman. I thought I would put down in words a story that many people told me deserves some telling, so here it is.
About a week before IM Wisconsin, my team coach sent an email to the team. It had a lot of good advice in it - things like, "You've put in the time", "Feeling crazy is normal now." It also included one statement that, at the time, made no sense to me at all:
“Ironman is patient. But eventually she looks you in the eye and you’d better be ready for the conversation”
Now, what kind of cryptic BS is that? We had been working our butts off for a year, and in the end, we get some coded message? What conversation? How is 'she' patient? Exactly what is that supposed to mean?
Does it mean at some point I'm going to be talking to myself? Well, that's no surprise - during training I had lots of conversations with myself. Most of them not pleasant, many of them nonsensical.
Does it mean I'm gonna wonder why I'm doing this? There again, no surprise! I've wondered hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. There wasn't a single answer, the reasons were many, some selfish, some not.
As it turns out, I found out the meaning that statement right around mile 8 of the run.
You see I am the father of two amazing daughters (Hence, 'Iron Dad'). I also happen to be married to an amazing woman. While I was training for the Ironman, my wife was mapping out the ideal route to get my daughters to as many places on the course as possible. On the day of the race, they found me eleven times. Yes, eleven. It was humbling. It was amazing. It was the thing that got me to the finish. The swim and the bike were great - I literally had a smile on my face the whole time. As I started the run, I felt amazing. My wife and daughters were waiting for me right outside of transition. I had plenty of time. I was feeling good. Then I hit mile 2 of the run.
To this day I cannot tell you why I crashed so quickly or so horribly. I had followed my nutrition plan, I was eating, hydrating and feeling good one minute. The next minute I couldn't keep anything down, my vision was going dark, and I could barely walk forward. From mile 2 to about mile 8, all I could do was walk slowly and chew ice chips. Every mile got more miserable. Every step got harder.
At mile 8 my family found me again. I remember thinking to myself, "Thank god. They can take me home now. I can't move another step." As I approached my daughters, I bent down and as they wrapped their arms around me, I said, "Girls, daddy is SOOO tired."
Then it happened. They kissed me on my cheeks. They squeezed me tight. They cheered so loud - "Daddy you can do this!", "Daddy you're an Ironman!"
Right then and right there I had the conversation. I looked Ironman right in the eye and I knew - I KNEW that I was finishing that race. I had to. I had two amazing girls cheering me on and there was no way on earth I was going to let them down. I stood up. I started walking again.
By mile 14 I was able to start jogging a little. By mile 20 I was walking/jogging. It wasn't fast. It wasn't pretty, but I did finish. And guess what? As I entered the finishers shoot with a crowd of people cheering me on, there were my wife and two daughters, screaming louder than anyone out there.
So I guess everyone does have a conversation with Ironman. My bet is that the conversation is different for everyone. For me, it was about my family and the kind of man I want to be. The kind of role model I want my girls to see. In the end, it was the most amazing experience of my life. I'd recommend it to anyone.
