Well, here is a thumbnail sketch of my experience at Ironman Wisconsin, 2006.
The short version - By The Numbers:
Finish time: 13:52:40 - I'll take that, considering all the hurdles!
1947th out of the water (never said I was a good swimmer :-)
1307 (or something like that) finish place. Kind of fun passing 600 people on the bike and run...
2478 people began the race, and about 300 failed to finish. Not bad, considering the weather...
Weather: 55 degrees, 15-20 mph winds, rain all day (Yuck!)
The Meandering Version - Training:
From the start I was told that the key to Ironman is overcoming adversity. It isn't about "if", it is about "when" something goes wrong. Well, my hurdles began even before I signed up for the race (in September of last year). Despite some reservation, we decided to go forward with our plan. It was the right choice, and I began to look forward to December when I hoped to begin my training. The biggest hurdle came early March when I herniated a disc in my lower back. Having overcome the issues involving family priorities, timing and finances I thought this was the final blow. For 12 or so weeks I was unable to train and simply wallowed - eating myself in a nice state of "huggable squishiness."
On Memorial weekend I did a couple of lake swims and survived. That is when I thought, well, maybe we'll go, do the swim and then hang out at the finish. After that I started riding a bit and thought I'd do the first loop of the two loop bike course before dropping out. Eventually I thought - maybe I'll even survive the bike ride. All this time I was undergoing a series of injections for my back that were helping more than anything else had, relieving much of the pain. My leg was still numb, however, making running virtually impossible. It was in early July when someone suggested I walk the marathon. Crazy, I thought, but the idea simmered a while and I then offered it up to my wife. She rolled her eyes and said "you are so predictable!" :-) By mid-July I was able to do a "walk/jog" as feeling was somewhat restored in my leg and in early August I managed 16 miles of this routine (walk a quarter mile, jog for 3/4). Too much, too quickly, I guess. The following week on a short run I "tweaked" my right calf and was unable to run for the remainder of the days leading up to the race. I used the time to do lots of stretching and some extra cycling, but it surely raised my anxiety level! Oh well, we'll just have to wait and see...
The Meandering Version - Race weekend:
We arrived in Madison on Friday early afternoon and were greeted with a HUGE line of athletes waiting to check in. It was a 2 1/2 hour process. While somewhat frustrating, it gave us the opportunity to share stories and get to know those around us. I discovered others had their own hurdles, their own anxieties, doubts, hopes and expectations. The weekend turned out to be about lines - lines, lines everywhere. We learned to accept it, and even enjoy it as an opportunity to get to know more and more people.
Friday night we drove a good portion of the bike course, during which my wife said "ok, I decided you are officially insane." Someone counted 80+ hills on this course. Only 7 or 8 (3 or 4 done twice, as it is a two-loop course) are really tough, but the sheer number of hills is daunting...
Saturday morning I did a brief swim and bike to get comfortable with the swim start and do a final check on my bike (and to burn off some nervous energy). This is where I discovered how tough the swim would be. There was a strong current and really choppy water because of the cool temps and strong winds. With swimming being my weak leg, this caused me more anxiety than I really needed ;-)
Anyway, I checked in my bike and my transition bags and we were good to go. Saturday we spent bumming around town and generally trying to stay relaxed. Madison, by the way, is an awesome town. It is the capital and home to University of Wisconsin, and also very compact. Very clean, friendly, pretty, and easy access to lots to do and see.
The Meandering Version - Race day:
Up at 3:30 (Yup, as in a.m.) so that we could arrive by 4:30 to get a parking spot (Pam didn't want to have to rely on the shuttle's). Body marking and final preparation begins at 5 a.m. By 6:30 we are at the water's edge anxiously waiting. There is a drizzle, but the water appears to be calmer than the previous day (still turned out to be pretty tough). 7a.m. sharp and the cannon is fired, signaling the race start. 2478 people in one mass start. Can you say "insane"?! 2.4 miles of feeling like I was in a washing machine. Between the choppy water and the number of athletes, I rarely was able to take 3 or 4 strokes without having to make an adjustment to move away from another competitor. The first 5 minutes of the swim I was nearly hyperventilating and my arms felt like led pipes. It was truly overwhelming. After that, however, I settled in and determined to take it as it came remembering how hard I worked to get to this point. Seeding myself in the back was a mistake, however. Too many other slow swimmers that don't know how to swim in a straight line in the back. Finally, I came out of the water, like I said up top, near the back. I was excited to have completed the leg, though I was 20 minutes slower than I anticipated being.
The first transition involves a run up a 3 story helix into the convention center to get your transition bag and then into the changing room. Dressed for the bike I was on my way. Not expecting an all day rain, I was not properly dressed. I ran outside, realized it was raining for the first time and told myself to just be careful - lets not crash in front of all these people ;-) The roads were pretty treacherous because of the rain - which never quit... Painted lines become like ice, so every turn was nerve racking. Some of the twisting downhill's left people with some serious road rash and people were suffering flat tires left and right. My computer stopped working about 25 miles in due to the rain, so I lost my sense of pace pretty quickly. No worries, though, I simply kept telling myself to hold back, to spin, and to take it all in. The country side is beautiful (despite the weather) and the crowds that congregate on the bigger climbs were "Tour de France 'ish", complete with messages on the roads, goofy outfits, lots of cowbells and such. It was inspiring to have all those people out on the course in such nasty weather. The volunteers, especially, were amazing...
My bike leg finished about 25 minutes slower than I hoped, but given the conditions, I was fine with that. Pam misunderstood my goals, so she was quite worried about me, thinking I was one of the horror stories that were being reported back at the transition area. Only by the grace of God did I even make it to the start line. I was fully aware that everything else was just an added blessing, so I was really enjoying most everything involved with the experience. Though I did grow quite cold...
The second transition was tough. My fingers were so frozen I had a hard time getting my helmet off, let alone changing for the run. Consequently, this took a few extra minutes. I knew the best place to get warm was on the run, so despite all the talk in the transition area about "hanging out to warm up", I pushed myself to get out there.
The run was magical. My body held up well. My back felt fine all day and my calf never even twinged. With the lack of run training I was expecting my legs to just quit on me at some point, but they never did. The tight looping course allowed me to see my wife 6 or 7 times and that really helped. I walked the uphills and ran most everything else. Again, the fans and volunteers were so inspiring - hanging out all day with us in the wind and rain and cold. At one point just after the half-way point in the run my wife saw me and I was walking. Wrapped up tight in her Columbia jacket and holding an umbrella I hear her say "You better finish this &@# race, 'cause I didn't stand out here in the rain all day for nothing!" I laughed - and then I started running of course ;-) giving her two thumbs up and a smile as I went by. At mile 16 I started running with someone that was sharing my pace and run/walk strategy. Sharing the work, we managed to pick up our pace throughout the last 10, finishing strong and with a smile. As I rounded the last turn, heading for the finish line I spotted Pam. Soaking wet from the rain, I could still see the tears running down her cheeks. We were about to do it - we were to become an Ironman and an Ironmate!
I was fine until I crossed the finish line. Then the emotion hit, the realization of a years worth of work and struggle. I felt as good as I have ever felt while my body was quickly shutting down. My back locked up, my legs cramped up, and the chill became overwhelming. Yet it was all ok. "Charles Cova - You Are an Ironman!" is a wonderful thing to hear over the loudspeaker. I say this not as a proud or boastful statement. It is a very humbling thing, actually. In what seemed like a movie playing in fast-forward, images of all of the family, friends, volunteers, circumstances, and especially "God moments" that had to come together to enable me to cross that line. It is an amazing gift, one that I hope to cherish for a long time to come.
"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith". May God grant me the strength to continue fight the good fight, 'cause I'd love to do this again!
Thanks, seriously, for all of the words of encouragement, advice and prayers. Thanks for all of the patience and understanding to those I've neglected. I hope and pray that this Ironman journey has made me a better person. It has been said that "Ironman doesn't change character, it reveals it." If that is true, may it be revealed in such a way that I may use this newfound confidence to better serve, to make a positive difference in the world around me.
