Racing towards an Ironman
It’s all about the journey
In less than a week, on September 9th, I’ll attempt my first full Ironman in Wisconsin. This is how I got there.
Prologue:
Not so long ago, injuries had overwhelmed me. Torn muscles, weak ankles, knee pain, herniated disk, etc, etc, etc. Yet somehow, someway, I figured out how to run. And kinda sorta learned how to swim. I started doing triathlons, including a couple 1/2 Ironmans, and even completed my first marathon. Before any of this, the idea of doing a full ironman was laughable. Now, suddenly, it felt possible.
If I had time to train.
I told myself that once my job settled down and my kids got older, maybe I’d give it a shot. But I thought about where I was a couple years ago. How long until my next major injury? Until I can’t run anymore? It could be years from now. Or it could be tomorrow.
The feeling gnawed at me. Will I look back later in life, when the opportunity has passed, and wish I’d found a way? Now may be a terrible time to do an Ironman, but it might be the only time. The least bad option. My friend Rishi was determined to do his first Ironman, and I decided to join him. I had to. I still had no idea how I’d actually find the time to train, but necessity is the mother of invention.
Create the problem, and you have no other option but to find a solution.
And for good measure, my friend Boden jumped on board. I was officially out of excuses. Late last year, we all signed up for Ironman Arizona in November 2018. Almost a year away, tons of time before I’d need to worry about pesky details like a training plan. And besides, my focus was on getting ready for the Boston Marathon! (turns out, there was no way to prepare for that experience)

I’d registered for some other races between June and August, which felt like a good ramp up before diving deep into 3 months of Ironman-specific training (whatever that is?). But in early May, things began to unravel. Rishi dropped out due to two torn rotator cuffs and a knee that wouldn’t let him run. Minor things like that. Arizona had been Rishi’s choice of venue, and frankly neither Boden or I were thrilled at the prospect of 11+ hours (likely more) of brown arid scenery.
Ironman has a transfer program, but of course there’s a catch. Besides the $50 fee, you must transfer to another race in North America, and in the same calendar year. Which left us with Cambridge Maryland (Sept 29) or Madison Wisconsin (Sept 9) as possible options. We ultimately settle on Wisconsin, for the iconic course and much easier travel.

Great, right? Yes and no. I’m way more excited about the course, but suddenly the race is just four months away. And I don’t even have a plan yet. And I have races scheduled throughout the next 3+ months. Should I skip those? Or use them as training session? Holy Stromboli…this is getting very real!!!
Chapter 1: Beating Boden (not really)
The first race on my “training calendar” is a half ironman in Victoria, BC in early June. Boden and I planned this last year before a full ironman was even discussed. A third friend Kier was supposed to join us, but had to bail because of a work conflict.
Side note: seems like my “friends” frequently find reasons not to race with me. It’s always “it’s not you, it’s me!”, but it sure seems like it’s me. Maybe I should be taking this a bit more personally?
Whatever. At least Boden will race with me. Although maybe that’s only because he beats me consistently. Athlinks (a website that tracks race results) has a “rivals” feature, which basically just compares your race results to your friends. But in a true rivalry, you win some and you lose some. As you can see, I’m not really Boden’s “rival” so much as his stomping mat.

Three triathlons and the Boston Marathon, and never really very close to beating him. Although, without bike issues at Seafair last year, I could’ve at least made it interesting. Maybe Victoria could be the one‽ My swimming has really come together, and if I can beat him out of the water by several minutes and hold him off on the bike, who knows?
I had a great race overall and — like Seafair — beat him in two out of three disciplines (the swim and the bike ). But the run is where his bread is buttered. He had the 2nd-fastest run in our AG, and beat me by 7 minutes overall. So make it 0–5.

Post-race was cold and raining, and I found myself shivering and nauseous. I ended up in the medical tent, angling for an IV. Instead, they offered bone broth and juice. Time eventually healed all wounds, but it wasn’t a great omen for this whole Ironman thing in barely three months
On a positive note, despite a more challenging course than Santa Rosa, I did have a personal-best (PR) 5:05:35 for a 1/2 ironman. And I didn’t fall apart on the run. So I have that going for me…which is nice.
Chapter 2: OK, so what’s the plan?
There’s no rest for the weary. With Victoria complete, ironman training must now begin in earnest. But where to start? I found a basic plan on the internet, which basically called for 9 workouts each week:
- Swim: 3/week. Total weekly distance of 5,000–10,000 meters
- Bike: 3/week. Two short(ish) 45–75 minute rides, and a long ride maxing out at 100 miles. And a couple “brick” runs immediately off the bike
- Run: 3/week (excluding the bricks). A mix of short/easy 5–7 milers, 45–75 minute interval runs, and long 8–18 mile “endurance” runs

I didn’t have the mental capacity, tolerance, or schedule flexibility to strictly adhere to the workout types (e.g. intervals), or to the sequencing. But I figured out the rough hours these workouts would equate to, and then just targeted to hit those weekly numbers.
The grand total would be about 11–14 hours/week, with a peak of 16 hours. This is probably unrealistic, but I have a long history of setting unhittable goals and coming in far short. There’s no shame in shooting for the stars and landing on the moon. I mean…you still landed on the freaking moon!
Chapter 3: Western Regional Championships (technically, but not really)
One problem with the plan — how do I pepper in the races? Usually I’d taper for each race, and then slowly ramp back up. But I need to add some serious mileage (especially on the bike), so no tapering. Instead, I‘ll push extra hard, using the races to test how my tired body performs. Because, you know, I’ll probably get at least a little tired during the Ironman.
Three weeks after Victoria, I raced in the “California Triathlons” Olympic race in Livermore — aka, the “Western Regional Championships” (so-called because it has extra qualification spots for the “Age Group National Championship”).
Typing this all out, it’s clear how serious people (like me I guess?) take all this nonsense. Lofty terms like “Championship” and “Olympic” suggest an elite accomplishment. Let’s all calm down. It’s just a race folks.
In the three weeks between Victoria and Livermore, I spent about 25 hours training — more than 1/2 of which was on the bike. It’s a little less than plan, mostly because I shortchanged the swim. Which feels pretty stupid given my swimming history. But I stuck to my “no taper” policy, putting in 60 miles on the bike and 10 miles running in the 2 days before the race.
Amazingly, tired legs didn’t hold me back. My swim (30:56) was disappointing (what else is new), but I was great on the bike (1:08:08) and solid on a tough run course (40:58). Despite tough competition, I took 6th in my Age Group (out of 49) and really felt pretty OK afterwards. Maybe I’ll be ready for this Ironman after all!

Chapter 4: To race or not to race:
In a bit of luxury, I’d have four full weeks until my next race. My favorite race. The Seafair Triathlon in Seattle. It’s the one race my friends don’t bail on. Boden will be there (smelling 0–6), plus Kier, Molnar, Crook (back again), and — bonus — Tom (who I haven’t seen since high school). And for kicks, two college friends will be doing the sprint distance as their first ever tri. Doesn’t get any better than that!
Actually, it does!
It’s also the trip where I bring my sons (aged 5 and 7) to visit my mom. Being with her is like having the world’s greatest au pair, but with no hours restriction. So for 11 days I’ll have ready childcare and a mostly flexible work schedule — perfect conditions for ramping up my training.
What could possibly go wrong?
Our flight was scheduled to land at 7pm on Thursday, after which I’d drop the boys at my mom’s house and head to Leavenworth with Kier for an 18 mile hike the next day. What better way to train than a 12 hour hike! We get to the airport and find our flight (which was on-time an hour ago) is now delayed. By four hours. FOUR HOURS!!!! Did I mention I have two young kids with me?

The kids actually rolled with it, and Grandma was cool to pick us up shortly before midnight. But now instead of an evening drive to Leavenworth, I head to Kier’s house in Seattle for 3 hours of sleep before waking up to make the 2+ hour drive to the trailhead.
The hike was exhausting, but amazing. It’s called “The Enchantments” and definitely lived up to the hype. Lake after lake after lake, plus gorgeous scenery and even multiple momma and baby goat sightings. But by the 17 mile mark (of what would now be a 20 mile hike — we got lost), we were dying to get off this mountain.



“Let’s run the rest!” I wisely suggest. It’ll save us a bunch of time, plus would use different leg muscles. This is definitely a great idea. An hour from now, when we’re drinking a beer, we’ll no doubt look back fondly on this decision.
It was a glorious two miles. Pure joy. Until…snap! My left ankle bent 90 degrees. Hard. It’d been 15 years since I had a serious ankle sprain, but it was a regular occurrence in my teens and early 20’s. So I know the difference between a tweak and something more serious. And this was the latter.
Crrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppp!!!!!!!
There’s only one way out, and that’s to walk the last mile. It’s sore, but I’m just worried what it’ll feel like tomorrow, and how much training time I’ll lose. Days? Weeks? Is the ironman still possible? Seafair? Surely the SF Marathon is off the table.
DAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!
Surprisingly, it didn’t swell much. And only discolored a little. Is that good news — like somehow my ankles have gotten super strong and resisted the injury? Or bad news — like it’s actually broken and I’m totally screwed?
Kier had me popping Advil, and I was able to swim and ride with just a little soreness. And walking wasn’t really a problem. I got an x-ray, and the doctor found no fractures, just a seemingly old “ossicle” (which sounds delicious).
Me: “Can I do a triathlon this weekend?”
Doctor: “Probably. Just stop if it hurts.”
Me: “Marathon the following weekend?”
Doctor: “OK, let’s not get carried away here…”
You heard the man — let’s race!
Actually, maybe a short test run first. Friday morning I set out, and immediately felt dull pain and soreness. By the end of the block, I was really pessimistic. I popped onto a dirt running track and settled into some slow laps. The soreness faded, and it felt not totally terrible. Two mile test passed.
OK, for real this time — let’s race!
Chapter 5: Beating Boden (with an asterisk)
I woke up Sunday at 4:30am with the familiar “why the hell am I doing this” thoughts flooding my tired brain. And with a busted ankle, those thoughts got louder and more convincing.

We started late (as usual) with our swim wave kicking off around 7:15am. I had an OK swim, managing to crash into Crook during a turn, and later having a mystery swimmer (Boden) grab my bad ankle. I’m out of water very fast (22:52!!! Woo hoo!!!) on what turned out to be a really short course — 1,300 yards instead of 1,640 (Doh!). So not really an epic pace, but whatever. I see Kier just ahead of me at transition, and Boden follows shortly behind.

Boden and Kier both beat me out onto the bike, although Boden’s “flying start” method goes south when he struggles to get his feet into his shoes while riding. I heckle him as I zoom past.
Normally, I’d be pushing hard to try and grab 3rd place (behind Molnar, two-time reigning champ of our AG, and Boden). But Tom is a strong swimmer and figures to battle Molnar for the top spot. This should bump Boden to 3rd, and keep me off the podium yet again. My weak ankle is another excuse, as if I needed one. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be slacking. Boden may have a grip on 3rd, but I can at least make him earn it. And if a couple things go my way, who knows.
Boden and I jostle back and forth for most of the course, and Tom and Molnar are only about 3–4 minutes ahead (thanks short swim!). Maybe we could catch them on the run? Unless something unexpected happens. Something like, oh, I don’t know. Maybe like an ambulance blocking the road to deal with a medical emergency. This unexpected delay cost me about 30 seconds of wait time, but it cost Boden closer to a minute. So that puts Tom and Molnar further out of reach. But Boden was now square in my sights.

Final bike split, including the delay, is 54:54 (20 miles). Solid. I follow Boden into transition, and amazingly follow him right back out again. Usually he picks up 30+ seconds in T2, so maybe this isn’t his day. He seems startled when I run him down 1/2 mile in. I can’t beat him, but we can at least run together for a while.
My ankle is holding up well. Just a little sore. Unfortunately for Boden, his knee wasn’t doing so well. After a mile or so, he drops back.
Boden: “I have to slow down. My knee”
Me: “Are you OK?”
Boden: “I’ll be fine. Catch Molnar”
This is definitely NOT how I want to beat Boden. I hate seeing friends get injured, especially the friend who’s supposed to do a full Ironman with me in a couple months. But now suddenly, I have something to race for.
I cross paths with Tom about 2 miles in at the top a hill, and then Molnar shortly after. Tom is out of reach, but I’m closer to Molnar. The uphill felt fine, but the downhill was rough on the ankle. Not sure if I should be going slower? Or faster?
Approaching the hill on the second (final) lap, I’m hoping Tom and Molnar are both far ahead. Then I can take it easy. I’m relieved to see Tom is still well ahead, until I hear him say “he’s right in front of you!”
I see Molnar ahead, and settle in for a big final push. I take the downhill somewhat gingerly, and pull up next to Molnar on the flats with about 1/2 mile left. I’m hoping we can run together for a while, but he says “nice run” and lets me go.
Holy Alex Foley! I’m in 2nd place! That was way beyond any expectation. But I can’t relax because Molnar could decide to retake me, and Boden wasn’t too far behind either. About 5o feet from the finish, I squint at the runner in front of me and notice the “40” on his calf. Son of a dingo!! I push, but it’s too late. He takes 2nd, two seconds before me. Two seconds! 15x longer than the time I spent waiting for that ambulance!

Final run split — 40:53. Fastest in my AG, but 2 seconds to slow. Rather than dwell on that, let’s focus on the positive:
- My Athlinks rivals page will look a little less pathetic at 1–5— even if that win does come with an asterisk. (I’d gladly forfeit the victory to make Boden’s knee better)
- My ankle held up. It’s only 6.2 miles, but if there was something seriously wrong with my ankle, I’d have felt it. Right? I hope so. Only one way to find out for sure…
Chapter 6: The 26.2 mile test
My ankle put a serious dent in my training. During the past two weeks, I managed only about 12 total hours of training— less than half my plan. Even if my ankle is now ok — a big if — I still need to worry about being fit enough to complete this ironman.
The SF Marathon is only one week after the Seafair tri. My plan was to bike hard Saturday, then run a target IM marathon pace Sunday on tired legs. But now, with my legs out of form and my ankle compromised, should I really run a full marathon? Or maybe a half? Or skip it entirely? All week I vacillated, and even at Saturday’s packet pickup, I was unsure whether I’d run.
I ultimately decided on a “play it by ear” strategy. I’ll start the full race, and if my ankle (or anything else) acts up, I’ll bail at the halfway point. A solid plan, albeit with one major problem. I can’t be trusted to quit a race, even when I know I should. Competitiveness gets the best of me.
The marathon started at 5:30am (seriously), and I settle into an 8 min/mile pace — my (delusional) goal for the ironman. My ankle aches around mile 3 from a slanted road, then again at mile 8 on the Golden Gate bridge descent into Marin. From mile 10 to 20, I mostly felt pretty OK. But some steep descents in the Haight made my ankle ache, and trying to protect it left my quads ripped to shreds.
The last few miles were rough on the legs. Every step hurt, and I should have stopped and saved my muscles. Focus on Wisconsin, eyes on the prize. But in the moment, it’s just too hard to quit. I cross the line at 3:35:21, not far off my goal run split for the ironman. My cardio held up great — I was never very tired. But my legs. My legs let me down. I might need to adjust my expectations a teeny tiny bit for the ironman.

Most importantly, the ankle held. It’s still tender and doesn’t feel 100% structurally sound — which might be mental as much as physical. But now I know it can take the pounding to get me through 26.2 miles of running.
No more excuses. No more complaints. No more drama. Just six weeks until race day. This is starting to get very, very real.
Chapter 7: One last fling (before the real thing)
OK, maybe just a little more drama. Exactly halfway between the Marathon and the Ironman, I had my last training race — the Oakland Olympic Triathlon. Last year I had a great race and took 2nd place in my AG. But this year, I did an anti-taper — ratcheting up the intensity and entering race day both physically and mentally exhausted.
My swim was terrible. Almost 32 minutes (vs. less than 24 last year) and my neck was raw from the wetsuit — a consistent problem lately that no amount of body glide can solve. I’m resigned to a painful Ironman swim.

As a volunteer pulled me from the water, I felt a tweak in my hip flexor. It’d been bothering me since the marathon, and so I brushed it off. But as I ran my bike through T1, the front wheel turned and I stopped suddenly, causing a much more serious pop in my hip. It now hurt to walk, much less run. I thought about bailing, but figured I’d at least start the bike and see how it felt.

After a few minutes, the pain was gone and I put up a pretty solid bike split — 1:05:09 — just under 23mph. But as I ran through T2, the pain returned. A sharp pain at the start of the run faded to a dull ache, but never went away. I still managed a fast run split of 39:21 (6:20/mile), but was pretty worried about the hip. It’s one thing to gut through an Olympic distance, but the Ironman will be more than 4x longer. If my body’s not right, it’s going to be a very, very long day.

The post race massage saved me. She mostly worked my quad, but the next day my hip flexor felt so much better. I still have some pain and aches (especially running downhill), but it’s managable. Crisis (hopefully) averted.
And with that, my “races as training” is complete. I’ve spent the last couple weeks tapering (sort of), and all that’s left to do is the actual Ironman.
Wish me luck!
You can see a find a full list of race recaps here (if you’re into that sort of thing): Joe’s race recaps
