An alarm clock going off at 3:30 in the morning when you're deep in sleep is never an easy thing to deal with, but I was instantly awake and alert, my mind already prioritizing what needed to get done, in what order, and by when. First, I hit the bathroom for my first movement of the morning (very important) and a quick shower. Next, I was mixing six bottles worth of Gatorade Endurance (both lemon lime and orange) spiked with
Nuun. Since the
Nuun likes to take it's time to dissolve in bottled water, Mrs. P and I headed down to get some breakfast. The hotel was opening the kitchen for business at 4:00 AM just for us. I put in an order for scrambled eggs and potatoes (and bacon) and started toasting two slices of bread. I was able to eat a meal very similar to what I would have eaten at home before a long training day. I drank a lot of water the previous day to hydrate and so went easy on the liquids. I had no desire for a full bladder in my wetsuit!
After a few final preparations, including finalizing my special needs bags and waking up Jr., we were off to drop off said bags, inflate my tires, attach nutrition to my bike, and find a spot to chill.
I can't tell if Jr. P is worried about what I'm going to be doing or just still tired. Probably the latter! Here he is waiting while I drop off both my bike and run special needs bags.
I had a lot happen this day. I wouldn't call some of the things happen "mistakes" but rather things I will learn from. The first such "learning opportunity" happened before the swim. The race would like all the athletes to walk down the helix to the swim start. There is a place to deposit your final bag, a dry clothes bag, which will hold whatever you were wearing that morning. I didn't know this. We found a nice spot for the family to sit and watch the swim down on the bike path that runs along the water. It was a nice spot with an unobstructed view. All I had to do was walk down the path to enter the swim start. What I didn't know was that I was now well past the bag drop area. When I asked a volunteer where my bag should go, he pointed upstream of all the athletes coming my way. I thought he was kidding! I slowly made my way up the side
We found a nice spot for the family to watch the swim. Right down on the bike path.
Sunrise approaching over Lake Monona.
Jr. P having the true breakfast of champions while I ponder what will be happening in the water.
Time for some final photos together.
Eventually it was time to don the wetsuit.
Had to have a Captain Peanut Butter Cup pose!
As much as Mrs. P enjoys this photo, I am NOT wishing I had hair. If I did have hair, I would still cut it off. I was applying sunscreen to my head. Somewhere I would probably forget later and the volunteer sunscreen appliers would miss.
Getting closer to 7:00!
Swim cap on and I'm ready to go!
A lot would happen this day, almost all great! The rest I wouldn't exactly call mistakes, but rather learning opportunities. The first of these opportunities happened as I made my way to get into the water. Because I was entering from the water's edge rather than coming down the helix like everyone else, and I had one last bag to drop off, I ended up being well past the bag drop area. I needed to literally squeeze my way upstream of all the other athletes heading down to the water. It took forever and ate up all the time I had given myself to get comfortable in the water. This would hurt me badly. I knew I was losing a ton of time, but there was nothing I could do about it. I began to worry I wouldn't even be in the water by the time the cannon went off.
A look at the Monona Terrace with every space taken to watch the swim.
I did make it into the water before the cannon, but only by about 30 seconds. I turned around to see a ton of people still trying to get into the water. I knew they would be behind me. I was planning on being behind them. I was going to be swam over.
BOOM!
Strong swimmers may not mind the "washing machine" but I sure do. In all my other tri starts I've gone towards the back of my wave. I'm slow and I know it. There's no point for me to get in anyone elses way. There was nothing for me to do this morning though. Just start swimming! I put my face in the water and that's when disaster struck. The water was cold and I had no warm-up. All my anti-drowning instincts kicked in at once in a panic. My throat closed up and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stand to have my face in the water. My form was gone. I had people swimming over parts of me as they passed. I was probably hit and kicked but I don't really remember. I just remember thinking that if I don't get my shit together not only am I not going to finish the day, I won't be finishing the swim.
I began to breaststroke. With my head out of the water at first until I could regain control of my breathing. Eventually lowering my face into the water. I would look around and see three or four swimmers hanging onto a kayak, coughing. I wasn't coughing at least. I hadn't inhaled any water. I could be in worse shape. I made my way a little further, most of the swimmers by now leaving me behind. I remembered where to look for the family and gave a wave to Jr. and Mrs. P. "I have to get going," I told myself. Once I regained my breaststroke form I transitioned into my freestyle. It felt odd and uncomfortable, but manageable.
I would see this group out on the run course working an aid station later.
I'm happy to admit, not only did I NOT pee in my wetsuit, I didn't have the urge to go at all on the swim. I had the same experience at the Great Buckeye Challenge three weeks earlier. Just didn't have to go.
It took me much of the entire first straight of the swim course, nearly half a mile, to regain my composure and get into my form. I could hear swimmers ahead of me mooing as they rounded the first buoy, an IM Wisconsin tradition. I didn't join with them, but rather let out a short matter-of-fact moo as I made my way around the buoy. That helped me relax even more. I was into my normal breathing pattern and I was sighting on every 6th stroke of my left arm. While there were still people around I had to avoid swimming into, the field was thin enough to work with. My next worry was being caught by the faster swimmers as they did their second lap. I was caught, but they were good enough swimmers to navigate around us slow swimmers. And I even did my own bit of passing! That back side of the course seemed to pass much quicker than the way out. I felt like I was moving pretty well, but I was still worried about how much time I lost at the beginning. I was working with VERY narrow margins here. Swim cutoff is 2:20 and my last 1.2 mile open water swim was over an hour.
I swam hard and scared. Not of drowning, but of not making the time cutoff. I was doing what I trained to do and I did NOT want to miss my chance to continue on this journey when it hit dry land. I pulled hard through the water. I kicked, but not too much. I could feel my legs getting tired and I didn't want anything cramping on me. I kept thinking about my family and friends back at home and what they would think if I couldn't even manage to get through the swim. I thought about the sign below, which I saw just before entering the water.
So I just swam. Repetition. Stroke. Sight. It was very much mechanical. All I needed to do was make decisions based upon what I saw when I sighted. And then another "moment" happened. A woman appeared out of nowhere right in front of me. My reaction was to come to a full stop instead of bumping into her. As I did that my left hamstring completely seized on me. It was a full blown muscle cramp in one of the large muscles and it HURT! I had the presence of mind to wave down a fellow in a kayak. He asked if I was alright and I told him it was just a leg cramp. After it passed I tried to swim away, only to have it hit again. I grabbed back onto the boat. Once again I tried to stretch and massage it out. This time I was successful, but it still hurt. I gingerly began swimming again knowing full well I lost another couple minutes dealing with it. Back into swim hard mode, but upper body only. I couldn't risk another cramp in my legs. I pulled even harder through the water than before. I was just swimming scared.
Now, I should mention I had my watch on and I could have checked the time. I could have seen I wasn't as far behind as I feared. In fact, I wasn't behind much at all. I didn't want to know. If I wasn't going to make it, I didn't want the disappointment yet. If I had lots of time, I didn't want to slack off. I wanted to swim scared.
Swimming blind and scared must have worked. My swim time was 1:53:00! That's faster than any split I've done in the pool! And that's ON TOP OF a crappy start and a rest midway through! And here I was worried about not making cutoff!
After going through the wetsuit strippers I spotted Mrs. and Jr. P ahead waiting for me. I tried to mouth my time to her. I was just so relieved to be out of the water and thrilled with my time I wanted to share! Up the helix we now went. Round and round on the concrete in our bare feet. I'm no barefoot runner and it hurt! Once inside transition went smoothly. I had my own personal aid in the changing area. Fortunately for him I didn't need to "get naked," just don my jersey, New Belgium Fat Tire to celebrate being in a state that has Fat Tire, helmet, gloves, glasses, and socks. I carried my shoes on the long jog to get my bike, stopping at the sunscreen appliers for a coating. I ran down transition with another fellow, joking about how much easier it is for us to find our bikes because everyone else was gone already. Before I knew it a volunteer was handing my bike to me and shooing away the yellow jackets who had found my Gatorade filled bottles.
The twisting descent of the other helix was interesting. Round and round we went. Again. Soon I was heading out of town. As Madison is a smaller city, it didn't take long to get out of town either.
What can I say about the bike? It was long! 112 miles is a long way! But we had perfect conditions for it so I tried to enjoy it as much as possible. Another "moment" happened early into the bike. I noticed a sharp creaking noise coming from somewhere. It went on for miles and I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Then, as I was reaching to grab one of the re-fill bottles from behind my seat, it happened. I pulled on the bottle, but instead of it coming out of it's cage, it tipped my saddle forward. One of the bolts had come loose underneath my saddle. I found a volunteer at an intersection and asked if he would hold my bike for me. I finger tightened the bolt that was loose and pulled an allen wrench from my bag to tighten the other. I don't know if a shake-down ride would have found that problem, but it may have saved me a few minutes on the bike.
Another "moment" on the bike came when I noticed I had a brake pad rubbing against my front rim. "Not again," I probably said out loud. I stopped and took care of that in a matter of seconds, but now some riders I had just passed went right by me.
I was careful on the bike. I know the drafting and blocking rules and I didn't want to break them and risk a time penalty. Time was what I needed this day. Passing was sometimes hard for me as I would have more speed than someone going downhill only to be equal going up the next one. I was very careful.
The climbs coming into Verona on the loops were hard. Not as much the first time through, but definitely the second time. In fact, I saw more than a few people walking their bikes up those hills on the second lap. I rode them. Out of the saddle, yes, but I rode them. The crowd support on those climbs was amazing on the first lap. People lined both sides of the road and made a TON of noise. I heard lots of "GO FAT TIRE!" on those climbs. At one point I passed a group of guys DRINKING Fat Tire and cheering! It was great! Unfortunately most had left by the time I came around again. But that was OK too. It was good to climb in the quiet at that point and not push too hard.
I was drinking and eating all through the bike. I was very diligent in consuming the calories I knew I would need for the run later. Some things, like nutrition, I planned. Others, like getting stung by a bee, you just can't plan for. Somewhere between the big climbs and Verona on the second lap a bee hit me on the side of my face as I was in a full aero tuck descending a hill. It must have gotten hung up long enough by my chin strap to sting me. I brushed it off but the "sting" remained. After feeling around a little I found and removed the stinger. Little bastard! I've never been stung by a bee. Hornets, yes. Wasps, yes. Not bees. I was going to find out if I was alergic to bee stings. And soon! The pain subsided and I had some swelling begin locally, but no adverse reactions.
I had been keeping an eye on the time and doing mental calculations and recalculations since half way through the bike. I knew I would have to keep the pressure up to finish in time. The breeze we had earlier in the day turned into a gusty wind, making it difficult to ride into for miles at a time. Eventually I reached a point on the course where I KNEW I would make it back in before bike cutoff. Another huge relief. All I needed to do was stay upright and avoid any mechanical problems.
Jr. and Mrs. P entertained themselves while I was out on the bike. They had plenty of time! The Capital was open to visitors so they were able to go in and look around.
They also went shopping, stocking us up on Milwaukee Pickles and New Belgium beer!
And I guess Jr. P paid a visit to the Cold Stone Creamery to get his favorite food group!
I returned to the Monona Terrace, made the climb back up the helix, and ended my bike leg with about 20 minutes before the cutoff. All I could think of was that I had it. I'm a runner. Not a swimmer. Not a cyclist. I run. I was going to run. I wouldn't admit it then if I would have been asked, but I knew at that point I had this thing!
Bike to run transition went even faster than T1 except I wasted time in a port-a-potty trying to "go." It wouldn't, so I got up and left. I wanted to run light. I carried a few gels with me and my own Gatorade/Nuun mix in my hand held bottle plus powder to re-mix later. That was all. I ran out of transition in full "hunter" mode. My first mile split? Sub 8! Way too fast! I might be able to bang that kind of time out in a half IM, but this is a different animal. I had to actually slow myself down! Pace, pace, pace!
The run was fun! Crowd support was amazing the entire way! The volunteers at the aid stations were superb! Even though I eventually got a little nauseous, I had a great time. Another "moment" happened early into the run. I developed a slight nose bleed. No big gusher, just a little trickle. I was more worried about someone on the medical staff spotting it and stopping me. I was too close to reaching the finish to be waylaid by a tiny nosebleed.
As you can see by the people behind me, the long day was taking it's toll and running was turning into walking. I wanted to run this marathon, not walk it!
Running down State Street heading out on the first run loop.
Approaching the turn-around on lap one.
A little later, approaching the turn-around for the second time. I was tired by this time and told Mrs. P that it was getting hard. I didn't want her to worry too much.
Finishing the run from this point was tough, but even though I felt bad, I felt better than just about everyone else I saw out there. I was still running. Most were not. I reached a point where I didn't want any more gels or Gatorade, so I would walk through aid stations and get pretzals or chips and cups of water. I'd pop in a chip and take a swig of water and make mush that went down easier. It worked. My stomach didn't have a problem with that and it got me some calories, but more importantly, salt.
That was my formula. I ran aid station to aid station, walked through getting snacks and water. I tried the chicken broth earlier but it was just too strong. They had fruit but I wasn't interested. The Coke ran out but I found one last cup of root beer at one aid station and chugged it down. They handed out glow necklaces but must have run out because I never got one. I just ran on, trying to take it all in.
There was one spot on the course where all the signs everyone's loved ones had made were lined up. I spotted Jr. and Mrs. P's right away and it made me a little emotional, as it does now when I think about it. Just past the signs was a sponsered message board. We would run across a mat and a message would pop up on a large screen. Very motivational. When I was running out there in the dark I thought about a lot of things, like I usually do when I'm running. I won't get into any of them here in detail, but I realized exactly where I was, what I was doing, and what it meant to me. And that made all the training, all the hard times, all the fear and nerves totally worth it.
At Ironman, the crowd grows the later into the night it gets, and there was no shortage of spectators about as I approached the finish line. I spotted Mrs. P immediately because she had hung my Reese's PB Cup shirt on the hand held sign they had made and was waving it so I couldn't miss it!
Crossing that finish line and hearing Mike Reilly (voice of the Ironman) was an event I will never forget and one I would like to happen again! "Daniel DeRosha from Cleveland, Ohio, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!" I don't think I felt anything as I crossed that line. If I didn't see a photo of me running across I would swear I floated over!
I was happy to be done, but sad that it was over. I just spent 15+ hours in motion and traveled 146.2 miles, but I couldn't believe it was over already.
Later, in the recovery area, the pizza and lemon lime soda weren't tasting too good. I needed calories, but I wouldn't get any down for a while.
Jr. P displaying my finisher's medal while I finally have success in the bathroom. Who knows, I may have run faster if I wasn't carrying that load around!
I had one dizzy spell when I thought I was about to pass out trying to tie my shoes. All that and tying my shoes takes me out? I guess it happens. We walked back to the hotel where I got into the shower and just stood there. The water felt really good. I smelled and felt sticky all over and that water just felt wonderful. We watched the final finishers on the webcast from the room as I sipped down a chocolate milk. That would be all I would get down that night. I fell asleep fairly easily and must have slept soundly as I don't recall waking up much. Go figure!
Final thoughts coming in Part 5.
At some point I ran for a bit with Marsha. She was out to run 100K (62 miles). Her longest run to that day was 50K so she was making quite a leap in distance. The great thing about a 24 hour (or even a 12 hour) run is that it makes that jump easier to do. Everything you need is right there for you. If you need to stop and rest, you can!
Final totals: Me - 62 miles, Mrs. P - 54 miles! She did more than she thought she could, but would pay the physical price for doing it. I felt good and was happy I didn't overdo anything. I was sore and tired but not hurt. Jr. P got to witness something that even most marathoners think is crazy: a 24 hour run.
After the run was over, we headed back to the hotel to get all my "stuff" together. Today we needed to put our bikes into the transition area and drop off our swim-to-bike and bike-to-run transition bags. I needed to make some decisions like what I would be wearing on the bike (based upon the hour-by-hour weather forecast for Sunday), what nutrition I would carry with me on the bike vs. what I would put in my Special Needs Bike Bag, and what I would need for the run. I also needed to make sure everything else was placed in the appropriate bag: bike shoes, socks, helmet, glasses, gloves, and running shoes, socks, hat, and hand bottle. Once each bag was at least triple checked, we were once again heading the few blocks over to 
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