IM Florida 2009
The long journey to completing my first Ironman began about a year and a day (Nov 2008), before the actual race. A.J. and I knew that Dad was going to sign up and we thought that it would be pretty cool to say that we have completed an Ironman also. So on that morning following the 2008 race we all sat at our laptops ready to register not really understanding what the hell we were getting in to. I graduated high school as a fairly accomplished basketball player at Northwest Whitfield High. I had scored over 1,000 points in my career and was the forth leading scorer all-time. In 2007-08 I attended the University of the South "Sewanee" to play basketball. After a year of the rigorous academic demands at Sewanee, I decided that it would be best to concentrate on my aspirations to attend medical school, so I gave up playing basketball. During my second year at Sewanee, I spent much more time in the books and less time engaging in any physical exercise. My grades were on the rise, however my lifestyle was nothing to be proud of. At this point in time, I was 5'11" about 183lbs- About the only physical activity I engaged in was weightlifting and occasionally pick-up basketball. It was at this point that I decided that I wasn't ready to grow up yet. Med school and the real world could wait. I missed competing. These thoughts and the timing of Ironman Florida registration led to the "knee-jerk" reaction to register that would ultimately change my life. As soon as we registered I started doing short rides with A.J. and Dad, maybe 2 hours maximum and mostly on the weekends. About 2 months after registration I broke my ankle while ice-skating in Boone, NC. As I lay on the ice I remember saying to A.J., "shit, there goes ironman." Luckily Dad is a physical therapist so he got me back on my feet in about 6 weeks. Needless to say, it was March and I was back where I started 180 lbs. As I picked training up and the summer rolled around, I started to watch my eating a little bit. Between the increased training and my 9-5 job in rug mill, I had lost about 20 lbs and now weighed 162lbs-(still a big guy in our household). During the late summer, the workouts really increased in distance. I was running 15 miles, cycling 80, and swimming 1 1/2 hrs at 5:30 a.m.. It was this training that I remember most. During a long ride (3hrs), I would be turning myself inside out trying to stay on A.J.'s wheel while he would be soft-pedaling and talking to Dad. There would be times at the end of rides where I would tell them "go on and get you workout in. I can find my way back home." Not once did they ever take me up on that and It's a good thing, because I didn't know where the hell we were. They would slow down and ask me questions like, "Are you sick? Are you bonking? Need something to Eat?" In their eyes there had to be a problem. It didn't occur to them that I might just be exhausted and that normal people don't ride bicycles at 25 mph for 3 hrs! Training rides like this one were absolutely miserable and sometimes I couldn't wait for IM to be over with. I was sick at waking up at 5 a.m., running and ridding 2-3 days a week, and most of all not being able to drink sweet tea! But before I knew it we were making final preparations for the trip to Panama. Equipment check, functional workouts,etc... There were a little anxiety when we got there but that was buffered by the atmosphere created by my Uncle Pat and Ben- two former IM Florida finisher, as well as other family members that came down!
The Race
As A.J., Dad, and I woke at 4:45 race morning, Dad told us that he was sick and wouldn't be racing today. A.J. and I immediately tried to talk him into racing, but as we would come to find out even the slightest of problems can be the cause for a long day. It wasn't until we were standing on the beach in our wetsuits looking into the water that it hit me, "Dad wasn't here." For the better part of a year, the old man had been in the pool most mornings, rode 3X as much as me, and ran 3X more than me and A.J. combined. In our eyes, he was most likely going to Kona, but now something as small as the cold has robbed him of all that he worked so hard for. It was definitely an emotional start, but as soon as the gun fired, I remembered Dad's most important advice, "Focus and stick to the plan." The "plan" for the swim was to survive. I wanted to avoid getting kicked or having my goggles ripped off. As all 2000+ people charged into the gulf, all hell broke loose. It felt like I was swimming in a washing machine. As soon as the swim broke up a little bit, I was able to get into a rhythm and finished it in 1:25. When I mounted on my bike, I remember that the "plan" was to get my HR down and then stay in a designated HRZ for the majority of the bike leg. I was able to control my HR for the most part, and finished with a avg of 19.8 mph. When I got off the bike and looked at the clock, all I needed was a 4 hr. marathon to finish at 11:00! So I started the run leg very conservatively. When I was approaching the 3 mile marker, I passed A.J. coming the opposite way at the 10 mile marker! I knew now that if his legs could hold up that he might go to Kona. Seeing him flying inspired me to pick it up a little bit -a huge mistake! After I jogged the majority of the first 13 miles, the second half was a majority walk with a little bit of jog. I finished the marathon in like 5 1/2 hr giving me a finishing time of 12:34. As I crossed the line It wasn't a sense of relief that I felt, instead a culmination of all the torturous, yet wonderful days that me, my brother , and my dad spent together training for this day passed though my mind. I thought about how much I enjoyed the hard days of training, the 5 a.m. wake-ups, and the adventure of the testing the limits of my mind and body. Some people look to Heaven for a life changing experience, but my life changing experience occurred along a road though a "wonderful hell" alongside my brother and Dad. An experience that I will never forget.
