Ironman Recap Part II: Hopeless, Bleak, Despair

(Author's note: I've tried to self edit the hyperbole and exaggerations of this narrative. I've written my true experience the way I remember it.)

Chalk Hill got it's name because, over the 25 years of the Vineman Ironman, spectators have written participants name in chalk on the road. During the first loop, when I felt so good, I passed a bunch of people. I did notice, however, that my name was not written anywhere on the road. If I ever did this again, I would go write myself a message on the night before. I know if I had that idea this year I would have written my mantra and "Urmanium, there is still hope."

Chalk Hill Part Deux

I arrived at the base of Chalk Hill thinking if I could just get over this hill, I'll almost be done. So I put my bike in the lowest gear and started spinning. After a while, I went from spinning the pedals, to rolling, to turning, to churning, to pushing, to stagnating. I realized that if I didn't stand I would just fall over to the side. So as I stood, the "guitar strings" tightened. Luckily I got out of my pedals to put my feet down. Then both my legs cramped from my toes to my thighs; I could not move. (Right here you might want to cue up "High Hopes" sung by Frank Sinatra, but it would probably by better to cue Hopeless, Bleak, Despair by They Might Be Giants.) I don't want to make any comparisons to pregnancy, so imagine the pain of the worst calf cramp that woke you up in the middle of the night and multiply that by all the muscle groups from your toes to your thighs in both legs, then multiply that by a number that would lead you to yell, cuss, scream, and cry all at the same time, then try to walk to the shade of a tree so you can rest but you don't move, except for your eyeballs rolling back in your head. There I stood; hopeless. I can't even walk up this hill. I think I'm done.

There was another guy parked on Chalk Hill just like me, but he actually moved to me. He gave me some sodium and potassium pills. Well, he told me they were potassium. This is how desperate I was; I took drugs from a stranger.  We stood there together to let the drugs take effect, we watched other cyclist suffer past us(their names were probably written somewhere in chalk), and then we walked up together. My drug dealer took off once we reached the top, but I had stay up top to make sure my legs were functioning before I descended. So it was "all down hill" from there. Don't get the idea I didn't suffer the last 14 to 16 miles. The route passes a cemetery and it looked like comfortable alternative; a nice final resting place.

The Run

I got in and out of transition 2 as quickly as possible. I changed my clothes because I was sick of that sticky, stinky triathlon top. So I changed to the Urmanium shirt for strength, and my lucky United Rentals hat, I had found on a training run in the almond orchards, for luck.

I knew my cheering squad was just at the start of the run so I thought I would give it a try. The legs seized again as I reach Elaine, "it's going to be a late night." It was around 4:30pm.

Loop 1
The marathon is divided in three loops and people were talking about how, worse case scenario, they could still walk and make the 11:15pm cut off time. I figured, if I wasn't running, I was going to have to joke my way through this thing. A lot of people were walking so they had to listen. Most conversations were about the bike and the Sun. I told people I was considering sitting down until the sun went down and then run as fast as I could. Most people didn't catch the sarcasm and told me that this was a bad plan. I walked with a dude from a team of 25 who came from Hawaii. Together we questioned the calculations for walking the whole thing and determined that it wasn't going to be that easy; there would have to be some running involved.

When I got to the first aid station I yelled, "DO YOU HAVE ANY HOT COCOA?!" This was my joke at each aid station on the first half of the loop. I used the variation, "Is there any soup, I'm freezing?" Most people thought this was funny. I got one teenage girl who looked at her friend, rolled her eyes, and mumbled something about "weird" and "so hot outside". Her friend told her it was a joke. After the first half of the loop the joke was over because you loop through the same aid stations, so I started making calculations, and the joke really was over. I realized that I was going to have to start running at some point. I tried running but kept cramping. I ran a couple times for 60 steps then I finished the first loop. As I finished loop 1, the race announcer says over the PA system, "Peter Urmston, you have 2 hours and 25 minutes to make the 9:15 cut off time.

To Be Continued

Ironman Recap 2014 Part I: DDNF

At the mandatory prerace orientation, the race director asked if anyone was worried about the heat for the next day's race. There were some mumbles and nervous comments. All anyone knew is it was going to be a hot day. He then proceeded to list the cutoff times. As a joke, I took out my little notebook and wrote down the cutoff for the 2nd loop of the run--9:15pm. It was funny at the time.

Saturday morning we were up early going through our preparations and excited for the day. We were staying in a house less than a mile away so we rode our bikes to the start. I found my rack and started getting everything ready. A volunteer came by with his sharpie marking race numbers for people. I knew I was in good spirits because I had him put a happy face in the zero of my number 607. I really had no idea how things would go. Deep in my heart I hoped I could have a better time than 5 years ago, outwardly I expressed that I didn't even deserve to finish, but this was contrary to my mantra for the race--DDNF. One thing I knew; the day would be long. And at the same time, I had no clue.

The Swim

The swim was pretty uneventful. I had a couple goggle malfunctions. I had put my goggles on top of my swim cap and didn't really get a good suction, so I switched it at some point during the swim. Luckily the river was shallow and I could just stand up to switch it. There were some nice relaxing times where I got a

good site on the bouys and got lost in thought, but at a few points, the course narrowed and it got crowded. I'm pretty sure I was swimming straight. I felt great at the end of the swim, it was slower than before, but I had been doing a lot more bike training. I got out of the swim, a volunteer helped pull off my wetsuit, and off I went for a quick transition.

The Bike

I was confident a functioning bike would not be my problem on this race. Just a short week or two before, it started falling apart. My seatpost broke on one ride, my handlebar tape was falling off, I needed a new chain, and worst of all was my front derailleur shifter broke.(I just wrote derailleur correctly without spell check because I learned a lot about derailleurs.) Anyway, I decided since I had a triple chainring, and I could at least shift between two, I would be OK. And I was OK. The bike is two loops for 112 miles. I felt so great on the first loop that I decided I would go for it. I kept up my nutrition fine, and as long as I felt good, I peddled away. I finished the first loop more than a mph faster than planned, Elaine and the rest of the group were surprised to see me so early, and I was thinking that I had a good buffer for the second loop when it would start to get hotter.  This was my big mistake.
I still felt great when I picked up my special needs bag. I was so excited to pick up my peanut butter sandwich and the frozen Coke I stored away. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't eat the sandwich. I threw half of it away. I was going a little slower, but I still felt fine as I reached mile 70-80. Then the little things started to bother me. Why is my hand so sticky? Why can't I zip the zipper on my shirt down? Why is everybody cheering for this Lisa girl? Why haven't I reached the next aid station yet? What is with this headwind? Why are these sunglasses so dirty? Why am I going so slow? Why does my bike keep shifting by itself? Why does this gel taste so gross? Why are my drinks all warm? Then, Is that a cramp in my thigh? Yes, that is a cramp. Next thing I knew both thighs were cramping. I drank more of my drink mix with sodium and potassium. Everything just got tighter and tighter, like the tuning of a guitar string.

At the aid station just before the big climb, Chalk Hill, I got off my bike and tried to stretch out and cool down. Then a truck drove up with a racer and his bike in the back. The racer got out and went to sit in a chair. The driver radioed the SAG van to come pick him up and take him back in to town. I started to think that maybe I could get in the van with him. It would be so easy and nobody would really blame me. I don't know if I can finish this thing. I shouldn't be out here in the first place. I even said out loud to the highschool girl who was volunteering. "I'm thinking I could just get in the van with this guy and go." Earlier, she was looking into my face and asking me if I was OK. She said, "No, you don't want to do that." "Yea, but Chalk Hill is coming up and my legs. I have no legs." She says, "You are going to finish this race. Don't DNF." When she said my mantra, "DDNF" , I knew I was going on. So on I went to Chalk hill.


TO BE CONTINUED