IM Moo, Race Update #3

See that half-crazed expression? It's what victory looks like at an Ironman. It also signals the end of George's odd-year losing streak. 2009 is a FINISH!

George didn't do as well as he wanted, but he did do a personal best at 12:36:46. He finished in 799th place. We'll see tomorrow what the final count of finishers is, but he's definitely in the top half.

We did make a quick trip to the medical tent for some chicken broth and gatorade, but he's fine.

Unfortunately, our friend Keith didn't finish his first Ironman. His race went a lot like George's 2007 Lake Placid race, so we know the disappointment he and Mary feel. Man, it stinks. I'll be checking on several other people tonight to see their finishes, like Rose's husband, and will report those as well.

For now, I'd like to say thanks to all of you who have been reading and following and praying. It's been a blast sharing this experience with you, and I have more to share after we get home...especially photos.

Blessings,
Susan

IM Moo, Q & A

How do they manage the swim? Do they all go at once?

The pros do start ten minutes ahead of everyone else, but there are still several thousand athletes starting the swim at one time. The swim is probably the most dangerous part of the Ironman. People get kicked, hit, pushed under by people swimming over them, and generally treated like spawning salmon. Often, slow swimmers will seed themselves too close to the front, and that makes a bad situation worse.

How/what do they eat? I find it really hard to exercise vigorously for a good while after I've eaten--but they need the energy. I know some marathoners down Gu (or something like it)--is that what IMers do?

They all do different things. Some Ironmen load their transition bags with Big Macs and fries, sandwiches, fruit and other real food. Others, like George, rely on sports nutrition products (drinks, gels, bars), plus the bananas available in aide stations on the course. George uses a custom blended powder that is supposed to help him recover some of the salts he sweats out so heavily. George started his day with a peanut butter and honey sandwich. He’ll end it, more than likely, with a big burger and fries after the finish!

Both times George DNF’ed, he was severely dehydrated and cramping from loss of salt and potassium. He’s a particularly salty sweater, which makes it hard for him to handle heat like they are having today. He seems to be okay right now, but about half-way through the marathon is when he gets in trouble. I’m sitting on pins and needles for his third run split to post.

What is the longest training George did? Would he do, say, a 75-mile bike ride immediately followed by a 15-mile run? (I can't even walk right after a 45-minute bike ride, so I'm in total awe.)

I think George actually trains fewer hours than most IM participants. He tries to push harder rather than longer, but it varies every year. In 2006, he did RAGBRAI (a 600+ mile ride across Iowa in one week), and that helped him finish IM Wisconsin that year. This year, he did several 75-80 mile rides and one 110-ish mile ride about a month ago. Most of his rides are around 50 miles, though. He calls a 25-30 mile ride an “easy spin.” (insert rolling eyes here!)

He does do “bricks”: a ride followed by a run. His are not usually that long, though. The longest run George did was around 12 miles, but he had several injuries this year, so his run training was perhaps slower than usual because of that.

He swims at the YMCA several times a week, and takes his wetsuit out to a local lake for open-water swims a couple of times.

Most years, he participates in several shorter, Olympic distance triathlons starting in May, and some years, he does a half-Ironman. Most IMers would think his lighter training schedule crazy, but it allows him to balance work, training, and family very nicely. He’s very good about spending plenty of time with the boys, and will incorporate Nick’s triathlon training with his own this winter by having Nick ride his bike while George runs.

Any other questions? I'll try to answer them. Once George his back, he may correct my answers, LOL! My perception and his sometimes are different.

IM Moo, Race Day Update #2

Woohoo! George came off the bike just a bit later than when he predicted, and he was running uphill when I saw him. That's just evil for the race planners to have such a long uphill out of T2 (or the bike-to-run transition). Okay, evil may be a strong word, but wow, many of the runners looked beat when they were just starting!

Here he is just catching sight of four women screaming his name.

Here's the smile he mustered for the camera. Good thing I caught it, even if I did almost chop his head off. You try shooting a moving target with a Nikon Coolpix.


The smile went away quickly. He's tired, poor guy. He's just gone 114.4 miles. He's entitled to be tired.

The volunteers had smeared George with sunscreen, and as he ran away from me (up the dang hill!), I noticed he had lots of salt on his black tri-suited butt. I hope he heard me yell "Take SALT!"

A few amusing observations:

1. After a small group of runners passed out of T2 and couldn't hear me, I muttered, "You all still have a marathon to run. You guys are CRAZY!" A woman passing by on the sidewalk replied, "Amen, sister!"

2. If you can't find someone to talk to among IM spectators, you're seriously introverted. Everyone wants to talk, meet and greet, share information on their racer. On Friday, I met Rose, who teaches children with autism and sings professionally. Mary and I ran into her today and spent a few hours waiting for the guys out of T2, along with Rose's friend Kaarina. Put four women together with ripped dudes in sports gear running past, and you've got a recipe for a good time. All we needed was pina coladas, 'cause it was hot. Here's a pic of Rose and Kaarina:

Don't they look friendly? I tell you, I'm just lovin' everyone in Madison today.

3. It's hot. Africa hot. (Name that movie....) Okay, so it's not exactly Africa hot, but it's 82 and sunny. You try doing 140.6 miles in this heat. Just spectating is hot and sweaty work. Ten days ago, NOAA was predicting a high of 64 degrees. They lie. They lie like a bad rug. Oh, for a 64-degree race day!

4. I'll say it again. Ironman athletes are crazy. Insane. Mad. Loony. Nuts. And I love them all. Kaarina's boyfriend, Rich, had just passed through T2 to start his marathon a few minutes before the winner of the whole dang race finished. It's gonna be a long marathon for some folks.

5. This observation is not so amusing. Guys are already DNF-ing. We saw a racer whose race was over around 1:30. Ouch. Another racer came out of the medical tent as we passed who'd clearly been in a bad bike wreck: broken arm and hand, horrible road rash. George has DNF'ed twice and no two ways about it: it sucks. Men and women train hard for the better part of a year, spend gobs of money on gear and travel and registration fees, and sometimes, the outcome isn't what they hoped. Pray for them, please.

More when the race is done!

PS Several people have asked questions about the race. I'll try to answer them all in another post. In case you hadn't noticed, I am hugely impressed by these crazy athletes, and it's more than a little amazing that so many finish this grueling race. I'll share George's training schedule and other Ironman trivia soon. Stay posted!

IM Moo, Race Day Update #1

Wow. Four a.m. came really early. George hopped out of bed, downed a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and said he felt "chipper." I asked if that meant he was ready to go 140.6 miles. He emphatically replied, "I just said I was 'chipper.'"

We headed out to Minona Terrace. George was in the zone and not very talkative. I, on the other hand, had my mocha from Starbuck's and had to make myself shut up. We hung out inside for a while with our friends Keith and Mary.

This is Keith's first Ironman. Doesn't he look happy? He's gonna smoke George, by the way.

This hallway fills rapidly with people hanging out in the warmth, but this year, it's not quite so cold out, so a bit after 6:00, we headed outside and down the helix ramp to the swim start. George and Keith seemed eager to get going as they passed into the "athletes only" area. Mary and I hugged them and told them to have fun.

Wives say the dumbest things sometimes.

Sunrise over the lake was beautiful. Without a wide-angle lens, I can't really show how many boats, kayaks, and surf boards were out on the water already, waiting to keep a watchful eye on over 2,400 athletes.

I want this guy's job. Doesn't that look so peaceful? He was really useful once the race started. A swimmer got disoriented and started going off course. He redirected the guy, herding him back where he belonged.

Swimmers started getting in the water well before 6:30 for a 7:00 start. The pros get in first and start ten minutes ahead of everyone else at 6:50, but it takes over half an hour to get that many people to walk over the chip reader (a mat on the shore) and into the water. IM Moo has a deep-water start, so the racers are treading water for a while before the canon goes off.

The 7:00 start looked more like salmon spawning than anything else. Bodies churning in the water, bumping into each other, swimming over each other, kicking each other. No, thank you. I'll stay on shore.

This athlete ran into trouble right away. He had zipper failure on his wetsuit. The kayaks were on him in a flash, and the crew helped get the zipper back together.

The elbow in the air (foreground) belongs to Zipper Dude. He rejoined the race. What a bummer of a start, though.

This smiling, happy face belongs to Drew, who took our email addresses and will send me and Mary pictures he took with his fancy camera. He's done three IM races himself, and was super pumped to be shooting this race. It's easy to be happy when you're not one of the spawning salmon.

This smiling, happy face belongs to Nurse Fran, who wasn't technically on duty yet, but she couldn't resist keeping an eye out at the start anyway. About a minute after I took this shot, she ran off...

...because she spotted this athlete being brought to the dock. She was the first medic on the scene. God bless her and all the paramedics, nurses, and doctors out for the race today. Fran came back after handing her patient off to a doctor. She said he got kicked in the face and everything went black for a bit. He seemed fine and would be allowed to join the race if the doctor cleared him. Fran didn't wait to find out what happened, though. She came back to the shore and kept her eyes on the course, looking for someone else in need.

For spectators, a big frustration is finding just the right spot to see your athlete and cheer him or her on during transitions. Mary and I attempted to get on the helix ramp, which all the athletes have to run up for the swim-to-bike transition. We realized that wasn't going to happen. Too many people, too much shoving. We found a great spot inside where we could see the guys, but not one of the pictures turned out. At least George and Keith both heard us yelling for them.

I did snap a few very bad pictures of George getting his bike. That's him behind the woman in the foreground.

You can just see George's profile and the last part of his race number (1464) on his helmet. The blue handlebar tape is on his bike.

George's official swim time was 1:19. Keith came out at 1:10. So far, so good.

To follow George's times, go to Ironman.com and put his name or number (1464) in the Athlete Tracker. The tracker shows his splits, transition times and so forth. Later today, there will be video of the finish line, which I'll link to after George gets off the bike, which should be sometime around 2:00 p.m. Central Time.

IM Moo, Saturday Update

Tonight, on our way back to the hotel after a pasta dinner, George said, "Here we are on the eve of another Ironman.... What the HELL was I thinking!?!?"

I hear this every year.

This afternoon, George took his bike and transition bags to Minona Terrace in preparation for tomorrow. His bike is racked under the bridge over the parking lot.

Here's the view over one side of the bridge:

Here's the view on the other side:

In the end, there will be over 2,400 bikes racked and ready to roll. At an average of at least $3,000 each, the parking lot will hold over $7 million in bikes.

I'm not going to think about that. It hurts my brain.

Inside the convention center are two rooms full of transition bags...one room for the swim-to-bike transition, one room for the bike-to-run transition. The only difference is the color of the bags.

All is ready. Tomorrow's the day. Deep breath.

IM Moo Update: Nutty and Nice

I think we can all admit that doing a 140.6-mile triathlon takes a good dose of nuttiness. Doing an Ironman more than once requires total nuttiness. There are a lot of totally nutty people in Madison right now. The above picture was taken at Minona Terrace of the line to pre-register for NEXT YEAR's race. Only athletes competing in this year's race can pre-register. Regular registration begins on Monday morning and will likely fill the race quickly...within an hour or so, usually, though the recession is hitting IM races a bit.

George hemmed and hawwed about signing up for next year, but as far as I'm concerned, it was a no-brainer. He's totally nutty, he suffers from a primal need to do an Ironman every year, and guaranteeing a slot makes sense. So here he is, resting his legs while waiting to pay his fee and get yet another opportunity to abuse himself:



While waiting, I struck up a conversation with another IronMate. IronMates are a gregarious group, united in our awe and wonder that our significant others are so, well, crazy. This IronMate's husband is doing his fourth IM race and signing up for next year. His bib number is 1908, so if you follow the race tomorrow, check on his progress. They were very nice people, and I hope he does well.

In fact, I hope they ALL do well. Ironman isn't your average competitive freak show. Ironman competitors are nice. If they see someone struggling on the course, they help. A few years ago, Chrissie Wellington, a professional, got a flat at IM Hawaii. Though she was a favorite to win, her race was essentially over because no outside help is allowed. Bek Keat, another professional, gave Chrissie her spare CO2 cartridge to inflate the tire, and Chrissie went on to win.

That's what we call serious, world-class sportsmanship. Gives you hope for humanity, doesn't it?

Among the non-professional athletes (the majority of Ironman participants), this same spirit of mutual support shines through. Athletes share gels, salt tablets, and encouragement all along the way. Last year, an Air Force Academy student half George's age participated. George encountered him on the run, where the cadet was struggling. George paced with him for a while, trying to help him through the rough patch. George doesn't know if he finished, but I'm sure he remembers the retired Lt. Colonel who stuck with him for a bit.

Some racers who finish with really good times will clean up, eat, and return to the finish line to cheer the slower athletes on. A few even hang out until midnight. That's the cut-off for finishing. If you cross the line after midnight, you don't get the t-shirt or a medal or your name called out as an Ironman. You get nothing. Some of those earlier finishers hang out at the line to give their own medals to the folks who didn't quite make the cut-off.

140.6 miles. No one can do that totally by themselves. Family, friends, spectators, volunteers, and fellow athletes all contribute to every single finish called out by announcer Mike Reilly. But only the athletes go the whole distance: every stroke on the swim, every push of the pedals, every stride of the run. It takes a lot of nuttiness to push your body that far. It's a big warm fuzzy for humanity that there's also a whole lot of nice involved, too.

What's Happening in this Picture?

George just got back from driving the bike course with his friend Keith, who's here doing his first Ironman race. George checked out my last post, started laughing, and asked, "Do you want to know what I'm doing in this picture?"

"Sure." I took it because he looked so thoughtful standing in the water, hands on hips, looking out at the course. I'd title the picture something romantic and sentimental, like Athlete Contemplating His Challenge. My heart filled with love and admiration for him as I snapped this shot because he is taking on this huge race yet again, pushing his body to the limits just because he can.

Instead, George crushed this romantic vision. "I'm peeing," he said. "Keith was behind me, and I mentioned that I needed to take the traditional pee in the wetsuit. Keith smiled and said, 'I already took care of that.'"

Oh, God above, my husband knows how to kill my sentimentality and make everything real. Earthy. Urological.

Dudes! You can't live with 'em, and you can't romanticize them!