On November 22, 2017 I made the (depending on who you talk to: stupid, insane, idiotic or exciting) decision to register for Ironman Arizona in 2018. The following year was filled with a variety of ups and downs that I could write a book about. For the benefit of anyone reading this, I’m just going to cover my experience during the race.
The morning began the same way every big race morning for me has…..way too early. The only “nice” thing about it was my body was still on East coast time and we were in Arizona. Jeff Moore was an awesome Sherpa for me, E and Barb greeting us with coffee and helping us get breakfast before making the 10 minute drive to the race site. The air temp was chilly but not terrible, so a hoodie and soccer pants were perfect. As we drove in, E had to play Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” out loud due to losing a wager to me (I’ll save that for another day), which gave us all a good chuckle….especially when E asked “How long is this song, anyway?!?!?”.
Arriving in transition went way easier than any other race I’ve attended. By the time I was done with setup there was still an hour to go until the pro’s started. The only “concern” I had was I felt like I could get my front tire to inflate properly but, after asking 2 other athletes to check it, I felt I was set and pulled on my wetsuit and headed for the swim start. Now, I need to preface this by saying the water in Tempe Town Lake (the site of the 2.4 mile swim) has been described as dirty, not something you’d want to drink, a biohazard(a purposeful exaggeration by a friend) and COLD. Yes, cold is capitalized for a reason. Ironman rules allow for a wetsuit to be worn (and still qualify for awards) at temps under 78 degrees. As triathletes, we like to wear a wetsuit because you swim faster. In this particular case, the wetsuits were needed for SURVIVAL. The announced water temperature at race time was 60 degrees. I can almost guarantee it was colder at other points in the swim. The shock of the cold water hitting my face literally took the air out of me initially, but after that wore off, I managed to get myself into a decent rhythm and settle into my swim. On long swims, I have a tendency to “play” a song (or 2 or 3) to keep me moving or pass the time and it works great……unless you happen to have “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” stuck in your head! The last thing you need is a song about a ship that wrecks and sinks in cold dark water, with the entire crew drowning. Anyway, as I was withing the last few hundred yards I glanced at my watch and was happy with the time I was making, despite how cold I was. After being helped up the ramp at the swim exit, I made my way on the quarter mile back to transition and realized I literally could not feel my feet. I’d never experienced that before and decided to walk instead of run for fear of doing something to my feet on the concrete and not feeling it. Once in transition I grabbed my gear and headed into the (wonderfully) heated tent, found a chair and went about drying off and changing into my bike gear. I took a bit longer than usual because putting bike socks on feet with no feeling isn’t easy. After finally getting my socks on, I grabbed my bag with my wetsuit and swim gear, dropped it off, grabbed my bike and headed out on the bike course. Just before exiting, I heard a familiar voice calling me and I saw E on the WRONG side of the fence wishing me luck. He saw the puzzled look on my face, told me he was pulled from the water with hypothermia but was ok and to get moving.
Since I started racing triathlon 6 years the bike has been my best of the 3 disciplines and I went into this race feeling it would be the same, since my indoor trainer rides included video prep of the course and long rides were done in 3 loops to mimic the course. Heat wouldn’t be a terrible factor with temps in the low to mid 70’s and I trained on far hotter days at home so I felt confident. Over the first few miles of the course, in addition to noticing I still couldn’t feel my feet, my stomach was starting to bloat and I was getting nauseous. I made the decision to stop at the first aid station 5 miles in and try to regroup. I knew I had inadvertently swallowed some of the lake water during the swim, but felt that if I could could get something light on my stomach in addition to electrolytes that might help, so I took in a banana, some BASE salts and headed back out. The bike course is 3 loops, the first half being a steady climb out of Tempe into the desert before a sharper ascent the last couple miles before the turnaround. I made it to about mile 12 and had to get off my bike again. My stomach was bad, I was dizzy and now my back was starting to act up. I wanted to quit, there was no way i could continue feeling this bad. After a few minutes to get my bearings again, I got back on the bike and struggled up the hill to the turnaround. The group running the aid station had appropriately enough set it up with a zombie theme….and I was one more added to the bunch. I couldn’t get off my bike fast enough and made a beeline for a port-o-john. After returning to my bike, I stopped and talked with a teammate while eating a few pretzels to try and settle my stomach. I knew my average speed had been horrible coming in but when I got back on my bike I was now averaging 11 mph. If I didn’t get it together I was done. Even worse for me was the fact I knew people at home were following me and most likely very concerned with no way of knowing what was occurring. The nice thing about having to climb uphill, is getting to ride downhill. As I headed back into town, I was able to rest while riding at 25mph without pedaling. This helped some but I was unable to stay in aero very long because of my back pain, which cut down on me being able to make up as much time as I’d hoped. I stopped at one more aid station aon loop one and took a Hot Shot (a supplement in a bottle about the size of a 5 hr energy drink that stops cramping) in the hope it would help my stomach and back. By the time I began the second loop of the course, I was beginning to feel my feet, my stomach was no longer giving me fits and my back was “ok”. My average speed now was up to just shy of 14mph. I made up my mind that if I could get it to 15mph by the start of loop 3, I would keep going. Although I wasn’t feeling great and I visited a couple aid stations to stretch, I was making up time….but that voice in my head was back again, telling me to pack it in. I managed to quiet it for awhile by focusing on the fact that I had already bought a hat, visor and coffee mug and I really didn’t feel like going through the effort of selling the hat and visor and smashing the mug.
On long rides, it’s always good to be able to keep yourself amused. On this particular one, just before the incline got steeper, on each side of the rode were numerous big cactus'(cactuses? cacti?) that each looked like they were giving me the finger, so I laughed, saluted them back and began the climb towards the turnaround for the second time. This time a stop wasn’t needed and I decided that conserving energy was still the smart play downhill, since I was certain my back would start up again. After an abbreviated stop at bike special needs to reload my nutrition, have some sour gummy bears and Mountain Dew, I was back on my bike. My average speed was now up to 14.5 and I felt pretty good…..then my back started up on me again. At the turnaround I wasn’t averaging 15 but I felt like I could still get through and began lap 3. Halfway towards the turnaround for the final time, I heard a noise coming from my front wheel…..I looked down and saw my tire was going flat. After moving myself into the center strip full of dirt, sand and scrub brush (since I decided to flat on the one section with no real shoulder) I managed to get the tire changed and reinflated without much difficulty at all. Of course the SAG support showed as soon as I was done, telling me that wasn’t smartest place to change my tire, since I could have gotten something else in my other tire( I was more concerned about rattlesnakes). I thanked her and headed back out. I wondered how long my front tire had been soft, since I felt like I was moving faster and after passing “Middle Finger Field” the climb didn’t seem as bad, despite the fact I was pushing the pace a bit. I stopped quickly at the turnaround to grab some pretzels and thank the volunteers. They let me know I was about 25 minutes ahead of the cutoff at that point, so I got back on my back towards town and straight into a HEADWIND! I’d been warned the winds in the desert could be tricky, so now in addition to everything else I had nature smacking me in the face. Regardless, I was comfortable that if I didn’t flat again, I was going to beat the cutoff since it seemed that aside from my back, my medical issues were behind me……..I was wrong. Just after beginning the final descent, I felt a twinge in my calf, so I stood in pedals to stretch and prevent full on cramping, when I did that my quads and hamstrings felt like they wanted to join the party….so I sat again and tried to stay in aero as long as I my back would allow. Eventually I had to sit up, which led to repeating the whole cycle of cramping only this time my groins were feeling left out and decided to cramp too….No amount of Rocket Fuel or BASE salt was going to help me since this was a result of having to recruit muscle groups to compensate for my back. I just gritted my teeth and held on until I mercifully got back to the bike dismount with 20 minutes to spare.
After handing my bike off to one of the volunteers (who are all FANTASTIC), I heard E yelling for me asking how I was and how my back was…after I told him I needed Visene (oh yeah, I forgot to mention that just like Ironman Maryland, the air coming through the vents in my visor dried my eyes out and gave me very clouded vision) I also told him my back was fried ( I didn’t say fried but I’m keeping it family friendly.). E told me to hang in there and I headed into the change tent. Since I opt for comfort on the bike, this meant I ha to do a complete change out of my bike shorts and cycling jersey into my triathlon kit and running shoes. Ordinarily not a big deal. as i pulled my kit on, I asked the volunteer how much time I had to get on the run course and he initially told me about 2 minutes, so I was preparing to just grab my shoes, socks and belt to run past the timing mat and then sit down and finish getting dressed when he told me I actually had 20 minutes. He also told me that I had to be at the halfway part (13.1 miles) by 9pm and the 20 mile mark by 10:30 or I would be swept from the course and be a DNF. I tied my shoes, put on my race belt and away I went…
I tried an easy jog as I started the run and my legs essentially laughed at my stupidity, so I backed down to a walk. I pretty much decided that I would need to alternate between walking and some version of a run/jog/shuffle the rest of the way to even have a chance at finishing and tried this out for the next mile or so and it was working. About this time I caught up to another runner who sounded like he was carrying tic-tacs because the noise he made as he ran was the same as when you shake a box of tic-tacs. We talked for a little while and since we were on the same lap, running the same pace so we decided to hang together to try and push each other across the finish line. His name was Angelo and we were both the same age, he was from California and enjoyed racing Ironman. We spent the next miles telling each other racing stories and laughing about things we’d seen while gradually getting closer to halfway. Shortly after crossing the bridge, I heard some loud, upbeat music playing and knew we were close to the BASE tent so we had to run. Matt wasn’t there but the crazy enthusiastic volunteers asked me if I needed salt or rocket fuel and then ran a bottle back to me! Exactly what the doctor ordered. As we continued on, Angelo commented on how cool the BASE people were; it was even better when we came back through a few miles later. Coming thru the tents this time, Matt was back and I got a big smile when I heard him yell “Pat, we’ve been waiting for you!” and he ran after me to get one of his trademark selfies. Angelo and I continued on and as we passed halfway our strategy appeared to be working since it was still well ahead of 9pm…..now we had just shy of 2 hrs to run 7 miles for the next cutoff. After the turnaround and heading back towards the bridge, we decided to run from the Hoka archway to the swim start to see how we felt and also try and gain some time. I was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t feel any worse. It turns out we picked a good time to run too, since just as we stopped for our walk break, E came zipping up on a Bird scooter he rented. He stuck with us for a little while, giving me updates on Barb and telling me that my projected finish was now showing 11:50pm (a dramatic improvement over what had previously been there). After refusing to give us his scooter, he said he’d see us at the finish and zipped away. We reached the 20 mile mark with time to spare, gave each other a high five and pressed on. Even though we knew with the time remaining we could walk and be across by 12:30, we wanted to try and beat midnight. It was also freezing out and I was exhausted. When it was time to cross the bridge for the final time, Angelo asked me if I was up to running across the bridge and then the entire mile plus to the finish. I told him I could run the bridge and would need to walk before running again since I only had a couple bullets left in the gun; he graciously agreed. As we got closer, the noise from the crowd grew louder and we could hear Mike Reilly (The voice of Ironman) calling everyone’s name as they came in. Angelo checked his watch and said if we wanted to beat midnight, we’d need to run. My final run up the hill began as a somewhat pained slow jog and then the adrenaline took over; my stride lengthened and i came around the corner to the finisher chute. I decided to have a little bit of fun and imitated Hulk Hogan cupping my hand to my ear repeatedly on each side as I jogged in and every time I did it, they got louder. The I heard those magic words again “Pat Hall, you…are….an Ironman!” followed by a big high five from Mike Reilly.(at 11:59:20pm) I did it…….what had seemed absolutely impossible to me 10 hours before had happened.
I was asked by my doctor just before leaving for the race how I kept going when I was exhausted because he wanted to try and understand the mindset. My response was I tell myself “Just keep moving”. I’ve told people quitting isn’t an option for me. I’m telling you right now, I was ready to quit. As I was there dizzy, nauseous and bent over my bike on the side of the road I was as close to quitting as I’ve ever been. I was beaten, done in by something I couldn’t plan for or control……and then I remembered “Just keep moving”. I got back on the bike. I still felt like hell, but I was moving. I still wanted to quit, but I was moving and as I kept moving I thought about a poem I’d once heard about not quitting but couldn’t remember all the lines……I thought about the ‘Rocky’ quote at the beginning of this…..I thought about my family that has put up with so much of my BS while training for the race. I thought about someone I consider to be one of my best friends who wasn’t able to complete the race because of hypothermia. I thought about all of this and made up my mind that I wasn’t quitting. They would have to drag my ass off the course to get me to stop. In the end, it paid off. I’m prouder of this race than any other one I’ve done because I didn’t quit.
-Pat
Keep Going
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must—but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow—
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out—
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit—
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.
Edgar A. Guest
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