You get a lot of advice when you get when you decide to do an Ironman. Because training for it takes all your energy and focus, it comes up with everyone you talk to. They all have some opinion on it. Some people who have done an Ironman before want to tell you what to do. Others don't understand why you would want to do an Ironman and think it's a pointless and stupid thing to do. Most of the advice you get is ignored or filed away in case something unexpected happens. There was one exception, however. A couple weeks before the big day, I got the best piece of advice, which carried me on that day. After a relative failure of a training day, I posted on Strava. A friend said, 'Don't do what 90% of IMLP people do, which is hammer the bike, walk the run, then say they had a great swim and bike and almost made it. Slowly slowly catchey medal…’ Suddenly my perspective changed. I stepped back and evaluated what I really wanted from the day. I didn’t want to walk my way to the finish line. Coming from who I was 4 years ago, my biggest goal was to finish and finish strong.
I was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis when I was 20. It had started when I was 16, but nobody could figure out what it was for 4 years. It affects my spine, hips, ribs, knees, and pretty much everywhere else. Back in 2018, I wasn't in bad shape, but I certainly wasn't fit. I was in a fair amount of pain most of the time. I was on a good treatment plan with the right medicine, but I'd still have bad days. Walking would feel like something was stabbing and prying into my hip joint. Breathing would feel like someone had wrapped spiked belts around my rib cage, and any effort to expand my chest would be torture. I'd pretty much resigned myself to that being my future.
Swimming was always recommended, but I never pursued it because it was never convenient. I wondered how much of a difference swimming would make in my life. One day, I found myself living around the corner from a pool. This gave me no more excuses not to try swimming. I still remember that first day going in for the noon lap swim. I swam for about 8 lengths of the pool before I had to get out to rest. I was worried that I might pass out. The lifeguard checked if I was okay. I said I was, but I wasn't really sure. My brain was layered in fog, and it felt like no air was reaching my lungs. I kept working to suck in as much air as I could hold. I just sat for a few more minutes and slowly things cleared and I was back to normal. How was I ever going to do this?
Google is an incredible resource. It’s my go to every time I’m trying to figure something out. I turned there again: how to start swimming. The first few articles revealed some fundamental mistakes. The biggest was that I was kicking way too much. After my failed first attempt I had to give it at least one more try. I had to see if maybe trying some of these things would make it more reasonable. Not surprisingly, having done a little research and planning, this next attempt went much better. I could swim.
I wasn’t suddenly a great swimmer but I could do a few laps without being crushed. I kept at it. Occasionally I’d go back to Google for more technique advice and kept getting a little better week after week. One incredible lifeguard, Hercules, would give me tips on slow nights. He probably made me 10% faster in one night when I was the only one in the pool. Suddenly I was the guy going to bed early excited to get to the pool in the morning. I belonged swimming in the fast lanes. I actually felt like a swimmer.
I was getting better and having a lot of fun but I had reached that plateau where I needed something to work towards beyond just getting a little better. All of the big leaps had been made. I wasn’t going to have any significant improvements from that point on my own in the pool. I’m someone who gets a lot of satisfaction out of having something to work towards and I needed to set a new goal to keep me motivated. Then one day my brother mentioned a friend who was looking for someone to train for triathlons with. That got me thinking.
I’ve always been a biker. Now I’m a bit of a swimmer. Having struggled with walking from time to time, running was my biggest hurdle. Was it even possible? Could I run the 3.1 miles I’d need to for the shortest race out there? There was only one way to find out so I ordered the cheapest running shoes on Amazon assuming I’d get very little use out of them.
How do you run with arthritis? My lower spine has fused itself to some degree and is working on fusing itself to my hips. My knees have a constant dull ache, and my ankles are constantly stiff and sore. I read every article out there on running with pain and arthritis. I don't recall where I found the advice, but one thing that seemed to make sense was to focus on running under 8:00 minute miles. The logic was that running under 8:00 minute miles would put less load on my joints because my limbs would naturally need to be at angles that naturally caused distribution of the force evenly across my joints. This seemed reasonable and better than any of the other options I was seeing, so I decided to go with that recommendation.
Now I had my goal: run 3.1 miles at less than 8:00 minutes per mile. I started running, going as far as I could at that pace. Weeks went by, and I was able to go half a block. More weeks went by, and I was able to go a full block. Even more weeks went by, and I was able to go around the block. The incredible thing was that it wasn't painful. I could feel the arthritis pushing against my joints, the pressure starting to build. I knew I was at the edge of a flare-up, but I also knew my condition well and how to avoid it. After about 6 months, I finally achieved running 1 mile in just under 8 minutes without pain. Suddenly, I was looking forward to going for a run. It turned from something I feared to something I enjoyed.
I found a training program and started following it. The training program included sprint workouts and interval workouts. I was learning how my heart rate worked with my running. I was also learning how to use my heart rate to judge my effort. I followed the training program every day, rain or shine. After nearly another 6 months, or 1 year from the beginning, I planned a route that was 3.1 miles. It was time to see if I could run 3.1 miles. As you can probably guess, I was successful. I reached that goal. I continued to work, train, and push myself to see what I was capable of. Eventually I realized that the only thing that could stop me was myself and my own beliefs. And so, in July of 2022, I found myself on a beach in Lake Placid, New York.
By the time I arrived at Lake Placid, I'd done a few races, including a half Ironman, a marathon, and a 24-hour triathlon. I learned that the most important thing for me was nutrition. 've had miserable days and incredible days. I went from no plan to a decent plan that I didn't follow. Then, I followed a decent plan and knew how things went across all those options. This time I decided to ask for real, professional advice. I didn't want this experience to be a memory of dehydration or bonking and walking for hours. I wanted to do everything I could to succeed. I heard about the Core Diet on my favorite triathlon podcast, the Crushing Iron Podcast. I reached out to them to get an official plan. It wasn't the most efficient process. It took several months to get the conversation started and then more to get the plan. But once I got the plan, it was great to have something down on paper to guide me. When I don't have a plan, I am very uncomfortable. My brain is working non-stop trying to work out what to do. Poking holes in the last idea, coming up with new ideas, it never stops. Going into a race, there are hundreds of opportunities to do that. It is exhausting. This plan just eliminated a huge chunk of that. Don't think about nutrition, just do what you were told and you'll be okay.
You always practice what you’re going to race with. Nothing new on race day. I had the plan just long enough to give it some trial runs in training. I then used it on a 70.3 when I did the Patriot Half with Ed, Carmelo, and Fabian. We had a great day. The race was so much fun, and I finished with a personal record of 5:00:43. That was my first opportunity to test my carb loading strategy. Based on the plan, I had to eat a lot all day. I've never wanted to eat less than I did that day. The carb loading strategy worked. I followed the in-race fueling plan exactly and never felt like I was running low on energy. The only issue I had was that I felt a little bloated and uncomfortable the whole day. I wish I had flagged that as something to investigate further but I figured it was just my body getting used to things.
On race day at Lake Placid, I again followed that plan. I ate a lot of food two days before the race and then again the day before. I woke up and ate a quart container of apple sauce with a banana and some protein powder. I drank Tailwind and ate a protein bar. I got to swim start and I felt like I was going to explode. Ed looked over at me and said something like “Dude, you look fat!”. My stomach was more full than it’s ever felt. It was as if someone had hooked me up to an air pump and I was seconds away from popping. But I followed the plan so I didn’t question it. I figured it would all work out as the day got going.
During the race I followed the plan, drinking a bottle an hour and a gel every half hour on the bike, gels, fig bars and gatorade on the run. I added a lot of water because it was hot out and I was sweating a ton. Everything went in but my stomach still felt like it was going to explode. I had to hold off on some of what I was supposed to do on the run because there was nowhere for it to go. I was so uncomfortable but the only thing I could do was keep going. I finished strong and had the energy I needed throughout the day but it wasn’t comfortable. There is definitely something that I need to work on there to figure out how I can do that without the discomfort.
The longest part of the race is the 112 miles on the bike. That was definitely the longest part of my day. The course is two loops with a good amount of elevation. Most of my training was with that in mind. I found all of the grueling climbs and hilliest routes in my area to prepare me for race day. I tackled the Devil’s Kitchen, one of the steepest climbs in the country. I made sure every route had at least as much elevation per mile as the race would. I felt good coming into the day, I knew the hills wouldn’t be a problem. But cycling has always been my least favorite discipline. I hate sitting inside on a trainer. I'm also not very comfortable with the attitude of some drivers who fly by without leaving much room, even though I'm good about finding back roads and lightly trafficked routes. It’s not a mentally relaxing way to spend time. There is always a low hum of concern when I see the indicator pop up that a car is coming behind me (the Garmin Varia radar light and Hammerhead bike computer are an awesome combination). It’s not like swimming or running where my head feels clearer at the end. It always feel like work. I don’t get the feeling of calm I do from the others. I did a couple 100+ mile rides and knew I would finish. But if I want to get better, I need to figure out a way to enjoy cycling more.
I finished the first loop in just over 3 hours, about half an hour ahead of where I was expecting to be. I knew I’d gotten caught up in the race atmosphere. I’d over-biked that first loop but I felt good, I still felt strong. Then, about halfway through the second loop, I hit a hill and my legs started to feel tired. In that moment my plans for the day snapped back into my head. I stopped worrying about catching that guy in front of me. I stopped panicking about the person who just cruised past me. I remembered my top priority was to run the entire marathon. I remembered the only thing that could stop me from doing that was overdoing it on the bike. I sat up, took a deep breath, and reassessed where I was. I was way ahead of schedule and was putting the rest of my day in jeopardy. That’s when I decided to pull back a bit and enjoy the scenery and spectators. I thanked everyone I saw for being out there. At one point a woman who was going up a hill behind me joked that I was the mayor out there. It was fun. It got my mind off being concerned about my time and focused on what I was really out there for: having fun. I ended up finishing at almost exactly the time I expected going into the race. It felt good having executed my plan in the end.
All that was left was running a marathon. No big deal, right? Run. The. Whole. Marathon. I just kept repeating those words. No walking outside of an aid station. I had to keep my legs turning over no matter what. And I did it. There were moments where I didn’t think I was going to make it up a hill. I was hearing that voice in my head saying “just a little break here”. I just kept focusing on my cadence and ignored it. Not worrying about my speed, not trying to push it. Every time I didn’t think I could keep it up I’d just think about keeping my feet hitting the pavement quickly. Eventually fear would fade into the background again.
I loved the spectators and the volunteers. I shook it like a polaroid picture with a group playing Outkast. I high-fived a crew from Brooklyn every time I passed them. That was the moment I got to see the other Brooklyn Tri Club people as we ran past one another. I got to see John who I’d been training with for this race (by with I mean occasionally ending up at the pool at the same time and checking in on how things were going occasionally). I ran with K from BTC for a while until I hit a bit of a wall about 4 miles from the end. Through all the pain (half of the bottom of my left foot was a blister about 3 miles in) and struggle I did what I set out to do. I ran through the finish line and became an Ironman.
Being such a big day for me, my parents, brother and his girlfriend flew out from Wisconsin. My older brother brought my niece and nephew up to watch. My friend Ed was there the whole time to support me. He walked me to the starting line. He listened to my nervous ramblings that morning. He collected my stuff and walked me to the hotel at the end. Knowing they were there was a huge lift. It’s incredible how much energy you can get from seeing a friendly face. Simply knowing you’re about to or might soon is enough to pick you back up. Every time I knew I’d be coming up to where they were all of the tiredness would evaporate. Hearing them scream your name pushes you along like a wind. The occasional surprise Ed sighting on the side of the road during the bike ride was always invigorating. There’s no amount of training that can give you as much of a boost as having a good group of people with you cheering you on and supporting you. I’m incredibly lucky to be surrounded by the people in my life.
This was an incredible experience. Now I know that I am capable of doing that. Now I know that I could push harder and be okay. I learned a lot from that day. A lot about myself, a lot about how much I have inside myself. But I also learned that this isn’t my ideal style of race. It was a beautiful area to race in. The scenery was absolutely incredible, breathtaking in some places. But there was something very constricted about it as well. I don’t know if it was the scale, the sheer number of competitors. It may have been the format, being two loops of each course. Something just felt like it could have been grander, like more could have been explored and discovered. You run a few miles up a road, turn around and run back and then doing that again. Comparing that experience to the adventure of the NYC Marathon where you see something new all day long is like night and day. Even though it’s an adventure in a city, and a city and places I know well, it still feels like a discovery around every corner. I really want to look for races that are adventures. Races that are explorations. Races that are once in a lifetime experience. Something you’d never be able to experience outside of that context. This was fun and I’m very glad I did it but I’m looking for something different next. In about 6 weeks I’m running 70 miles through the mountains. I’m hoping to get that adventure experience there.