You Are Capable of More Than You Know
The journey of my first Ironman 70.3
The large 12 mile marker approached in the distance. 1.1 miles to go.
Run! You’re almost there!
I ceased walking and ran at a slow, exhausted pace. It was 90 degrees outside. Everyone remaining on the course suffered together.
We cheered each other on. A spectator on Windsor Road, the last long stretch of the route, shouted, “you’re a half mile away!”
The finish line at Windsor High School became closer. The crowd thickened. A women held a sign that said TOUCH HERE FOR POWER next to a large, hand-drawn star.
I touched it.
My pace increased. I turned left into the high school grounds and thought I was nearly done. The turn was deceptive. The finish line was nowhere to be seen. Another tenth of a mile to go.
Adrenaline was the only fuel left in my body. It propelled me around another corner.
I ran through the finish line as fast as I could.
It was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever experienced.
It was then that I remembered:
You can do anything you put your mind to.
Less than 24 hours prior, I was driving up the 5 freeway headed towards Windsor, CA.
What I was about to do became real.
Two years ago I was in the midst of training for my first triathlon: something I never thought I would accomplish. Ever.
It was a sprint distance, covering a total of 22.5 miles.
Here I was, two years later, about to do something significantly more daunting. Ironman 70.3 is a race not for the faint of heart.
Given this realization, I was calm. There was nothing left to do except grab this race by the balls and make it my bitch.
The following morning began at Johnson’s Beach on the Russian River in the small town of Guerneville. I waited patiently for the first 20 swim waves. Every six minutes a horn went off as a few more of the 2,300 athletes certifiably mad enough to participate in this sport began their long journey through Sonoma County.
A thick fog sat over the redwood trees surrounding the river. The air was crisp and cool. Words cannot describe how beautiful it was.
The second to last wave started. It was time.
All 132 remaining athletes (men 29 and under) entered the water. Testosterone was in the air. We chatted and joked about what we were about to do.
The horn went off.
The following six hours, eleven minutes and 30 seconds were beyond imagination.
Never have I spent such a long period of time living purely in the moment. I didn’t think about work. Or the long drive home the next day entailed. Or even the copious amounts of food in store for dinner that evening. I thought about what I was doing. I was in tune with every part of my body. I couldn’t stop gazing at the scenery.
The Russian River was warm, clear, and shallow. At the turnaround point after buoy #12, I checked my watch. 19 minutes. If I kept this pace, I could beat my anticipated time of 40 minutes.
I hauled ass for the last half mile. The swim finish approached. I swam until my fingers grabbed sand, stood up, and ran. 35 minutes. I’ll take it.
I transitioned in under four minutes, grabbed my bike, and headed off for 56 miles of fun and games.
The first six miles were a warm up. After taking a sharp right onto Sunset Avenue, there it was: the first steep hill of the course. To say I love hills is an understatement. I beasted it, passing a dozen or so cyclists on the way up.
The bike course was euphoria. With winding country roads and vineyards on every side, it’s no wonder this race sells out in four minutes every year. All I could think was:
this is one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.
On one particularly difficult hill, everyone concentrated on the climb. A woman shouted “Make some noise people! You’re all so quiet!” I mustered a soft shout.
While racing new courses, I have a habit of setting goals while in the thick of it. An hour into the ride, I had traveled 18 miles. If I kept this up, and then some, I could finish in under three hours.
It wasn’t meant to be. In the end I averaged just over 18mph, a solid pace for such a challenging course. Total time: 3:04:02.
And then it was time to run.
The first five miles were breathtaking. The course was shaded and though hilly, beautiful.
Then the trees were gone and there was only sun.
In the end I averaged a 10:48 pace. Not my best, but solid given the conditions.
I immediately drank four bottles of water, ate two pieces of watermelon, two pieces of cantaloupe, a banana, a peach and a cookie.
The human body is an incredible thing. I moved nonstop for over six hours, exerting my body to distances and forces the average person will never experience.
That’s what makes this fun.
It’s fun because it’s hard. It’s fun because it proves something. It’s fun because it’s remarkable.
Three years ago I was a sad excuse for a runner. Last week I traveld 70.3 miles using my body.
You can do anything you put your mind to.
